Against the Shadows IV - A Faded Glory Story Hour

[Old One]

Interlude - Rowan's Log

Greetings All!

Whenever I get a write-up from one of my players, I always like to post it here! This is the action from Rowan's viewpoint:

Rowan's Story

We were tracked the entire way out from Glynden. Each of us was becoming edgy, and the violent rainstorm didn't help. Having reached what we thought to be the best drop point in the thick drifting fog we came face to face with a large war-party of Nervi and Almani tribesmen hot for our scalps.

The timing could not have been better for the assassin that had dogged our steps. As we released Kothric and began trying for a hasty retreat into the fog, a poisoned arrow sliced out of the woods striking him down. It was all we could do, pouring healing draughts upon healing miracles and treating the wound to try and keep him in this world. I'll find the bastard responsibleif I have to track him from Oar to the Northern reaches and everywherebetween.

Things only got worse. It was obvious the tribesmen wouldn't stop toquestion us until our heads were separate from our bodies, and Kothric was in no shape to speak for us. Somehow I feel he would have had he been conscious. During the trip to return him to his people I think he began to realize we meant him no harm, and maybe, just maybe he gained a small bit of respect for us because of it. At least he seemed to appreciate Sextus' humor and good nature. He also seemed to warm to Quintus except for that bit of a spooking he got when presented with tales of the shadowlord and offered the medallion. Too bad Kothric stayed unconscious. Without his word we were mere foxes to be run to ground by the hounds, and run we did.

Rose caught sight of the assassin a couple of times, but the wily devil still slipped away in the direction of the ridge line where we eventually found an old fortress. Good thing it was there. It bought us time, but then if not for a miracle of Corellion even the fortress wouldn't have saved us. Somehow Rose's lover, the one that caused all the barbarian trouble to start with, turned up, babe in arms, inside the fortress. I'm sure the assassin is in the fortress too. I don't think it was her. Nobody's good enough to shoot and run while also carting around a suckling infant, and manage to ditch the bow where it can't be found when cornered. Besides, it was that woman, touched by Corellion, that turned into an enormous bear and saved us. I was
expecting to die fighting in that fortress.

The barbarians won't stay gone long. Sextus is gravely injured, as appears to be Rose's lover. He and I also bear nasty wounds and I think Lew and Quintus may have injuries as well. We spent our miracles and healing draughts trying desperately to save Kothric. I hope that gesture doesn't go unappreciated, especially if the tribesmen recover their courage.

~Rowan

 

[Old One]

Interlude - Quintus' Journal

Greetings All!

Here is Quintus' Journal from last session...

Quintus' Journal

As usual, crows followed us west on our mission to return the captive barbarian Kothric to his people. We became aware of an additional watcher shortly after starting our journey. Rowan circled back a few times, trying to surprise this unwanted guest.

After several failed attempts we were forced to admit that this shadowy presence had woodland skills superior to ours. We decided to take no further action on the matter other than maintaining a sharp watch for activity.

Our course followed the northern edge of the Thuringen Wood. We kept its outer trees to our left and open plains to our right. Our intent was to follow this course for several days and free Kothric at the forest's eastern edge.

Through Lew's translation, Sextus kept up a running conversation with our prisoner. The barbarian seemed to find Sextus amusing. My brother has that effect on people. As his defenses dropped Kothric opened up a little. He told us that he was convinced our barbarian had somehow crossed the Thunder River and abducted Asralla, the woman pledged to marry Kothric whose affections Rose had usurped. He also accused Rose of stealing the "Artosiak" - a "Necklace of the Bears" important to savages that venerate the bear totem. Sextus recounted Rose's time in Glyndyn, mostly on a sickbed.

I believe Kothric accepted that Rose could not have abducted Asralla, a journey of many days, without us noticing.

I tried convincing Kothric that his people share a potential danger with ours. Something cold is starting to embrace the north. Spring is late. Chill winds blow. We recently located a shrine dedicated to an ancient evil. I attempted to persuade Kothric to take a coin, looted from the shrine, imprinted with Ashai's evil symbol. I wanted him to present this coin to his shaman as evidence of the growing evil. Kothric refused the coin, seeing it as a foul totem. However, I think he will relay the message.

Following Kothric's suggestion that it carried evil, Lew and I examined the coin more thoroughly. It has been infused with minor forms of Alteration and Abjuration magic. Another puzzle to be worked on later.

Concerns about ravens, shadowy pursuers, odd coins and other problems fled as we neared our destination. Rowan came to me gesturing toward a group of barbarians gathering on a ridge before us.

Our party erupted with conflicting suggestions on what to do. One thing I knew for certain, they should not see Rose. I urged him to hide in the forest and was relieved when he quickly complied. Rowan, Lew, Sextus and I were still debating our best course of action when Kothric spoke up.

"You go," he said.

His attitude toward us had been changing the last few days. Good treatment and Sextus' company had eased his hatred toward our group, Rose excepted.

We had no time to decide if his improving attitude included letting us live if we freed him.

The decision was easy. Our small group, mostly villagers, stood no chance of outrunning the savages. I removed Kothric's manacles. He looked at his hands then in the direction Rose had gone. I felt a moment's fear, then a surge of relief as he began calmly walking toward his people.

In the driver's seat of the cart we had been using, Lew quickly turned and headed home. No one argued. However, Lew's gaze immediately snapped back in Kothric's direction. The priest was off the cart and running toward the barbarian before I could turn and look.

When I did look, I felt utter horror. Kothric was face down in the mud, an arrow quivering in his lower back. Anger toward Rose surged through me - had the barbarian decided to resolve his dispute with Kothric? That misguided emotion was pursued
hard by a moment of clarity regarding our shadowy pursuer's intent.

I think all of us reached the same conclusion instantly. Rowan, Sextus and I all followed Lew in hopes of aiding Kothric. If he lived, maybe we would.

The others started pouring healing spells and potions into the badly wounded barbarian.

Cursing, I watched more and more tribesmen appear. In their tongue I yelled that someone was trying to assassinate their chief. My words were useless.

"Kill the Steelmen," issued from two score throats.

"Run!" I yelled.

Rowan took the lead, Sextus and Lew behind him. I stayed slightly behind to use my magic on any pursuers who came too close. Rose had disappeared.

The forested terrain sloped upward, making the running very hard. In between glances at our pursuit I could see Sextus and Lew flagging quickly. When they could run no longer, our party would stand and die.

Abruptly, Rowan shifted his course toward even higher ground. I trust the ranger and did not question his decision. One part of my mind imagined he had found a place of refuge. The rest of me struggled to embrace my own doom as I saw Sextus reach his limit. He came to a halt and doubled over, breathing in uncontrolled gasps.

I stopped by him and turned to face our pursuit. We brothers would die together. It seemed that this day the Scipio line, a family once honored by Emor's Emperor, would end on an unnamed wooded slope.

However, Sextus gazed in the direction of Rowan and the others. He grinned, seeming to draw strength from the sight, and loped off in their direction. Turning to follow, I saw the outline of an ancient fort the forest was slowly reclaiming. Its walls and towered were shrouded in ivy and ravaged with age. But by the Light, they were walls and towers!

Bursting through the entranceway, I saw that sometime during our flight, Rose had rejoined us. He and Rowan were convinced that someone had entered the ruins just prior to our arrival. They started hunting immediately; convinced that Kothric's assailant was here with us. Lew, Sextus and I struggled to seal the iron gate as our savage pursuers pushed from the other side. I heard myself screaming in frustration and fear as the beam that would bar the gate slipped from my hands and crashed to the ground. Rowan returned and the addition of his strength allowed me the time to
recover the bar and seal the gate.

Ivy started shaking immediately as barbarians used it to climb the crumbling walls. This situation just seemed to keep getting worse.

I sent Lew and Quintus to open a set of doors that led further into the fortress. As our pursuers began to crest the wall I hit them with spells. I tried to be patient and use each casting to its best effect. However, my body quaked as some cruel part of my mind assessed my chances of survival.

One victim of my sleep spell dropped over the wall and into the courtyard with us. As he rose, shaking off both fall and spell, another of those thrice cursed black feathered arrows slammed him, apparently dead, to the ground.

Lew and Sextus started calling to me. They had opened the gate. I ran to join them as barbarians began swarming into the courtyard. They were forming up to charge when Rowan and Rose burst from a building to our right, hauling along a brown cloaked figure. With savages ready to slake their thirst on our blood just paces away, this struck me as an odd time to be taking prisoners.

They ran through the gates with such abandon that our whole group got tangled. The brown cloaked figure fell and issued a wail similar to one of my baby sisters. The coward had the nerve to shoot from hiding, but not to stand up to us.

(Corey's note: Intent on scheming a way out of our situation, I totally missed the significance of the "wail." I was totally shocked at the end of the session when some of the less "lumpheaded" players explained it to me!)

Despite the open gate and his charging brethren, Rose and his prisoner just kept running toward a third, and final, defensive enclosure. I cursed him and turned to sealing this gate. The barbarian charge slammed into the other side and it was immediately clear that we would lose the shoving match. I stepped back and loosed another sleep spell through the gate's opening. It had the desired effect and we got the bar in place.

(Corey's note: Quintus really got peeved with Rose for running. I'm not a believer in the "lets all just get along" theory of party relations, as long as it is kept light and all the players are aware that it's just the PC. Out of character I have to say John does a tremendous job of playing Rose.)

Rowan and I ran for the third enclosure, which was dominated by a large tower. I could see Rose kicking away at the tower's door. It gave way as Rowan and I reached the enclosure's gates. For the second time today I had vision of a bloody last stand.

Behind me the barbarians breached the gate, one bolted through and immediately engaged Lew. I hollered at the priest and Sextus to run, but in my heart I knew that Lew, our friend and spiritual pillar, was about to die.

Sextus started to comply but something, perhaps a hero from one of his tales, possessed him. In the face of a massed barbarian charge, he calmly leveled his crossbow - the one whose sights are never aligned properly - and shot the savage who was preventing Lew's escape. Moving with speed and dexterity that I had never seen in him before, he dodged javelin and ax and the two safely entered the final enclosure.

Mother, yells I, would have to skin him for risking himself like that. After I hugged him for saving Lew, of course.

Rose had opened the tower for us and we quickly ran inside. A small ladder led to an opening in the ceiling. Rowan quickly went up. Sextus dove through the door and landed on the floor near me.

Now I saw Rose's prisoner. No, not a prisoner. She was something else. He looked at her with a softness I had felt only around Abrigal, my former fiancee. I was trying to process this when she shoved a bundle into Rose's arms and ran to meet the engage barbarians.

The next few minutes remain a hazy blur of action taken to fast to recall.

Outside, powerful magics erupted and two massive bears fought a brutal duel. I remember climbing to the second level and, firing through arrow slits, using my crossbow to kill at least three of the savages.

Everything came back into focus when, from the first floor of the tower, I heard Sextus groan. I stuck my head though the ladder opening in the floor just as my brother landed on his back below me. Blood washed freely from a horrific wound. A savage, with my kin's blood on his weapon, was turning to join a comrade who was already pressing a deeply wounded Rose.

I yelled for Lew, the only one among us who could save my brother. Summoning the last of my energies, I hurled a ball of arcane power into Sextus' assailant. He staggered, and the action distracted him enough for Rose to end him with a dagger thrust.

Displaying his usual talent for bloodletting, Rose finished off another savage who had forced access to the tower. As Lew pushed past me to climb down to Sextus, I heard the sounds of retreat from outside. It seemed that somehow we had fought off the attack.

Lew's hands glowed and healing energy flowed into Sextus.

My borther's eyes flickered open and stared straight into mine. I smiled down at him, feeling both relief and tremendous gratitude to Lew.

"Will this be good enough material for that epic song you are always ranting about, brother," I said.

That's when my ears picked up the sound of a baby crying.

~Quintus

 

[Old One]

Session 6 (Part One)

When we last left our intrepid band, they had just fought off (barely) an attack by a mixed group of Nervii and Allmani inside an old hillfort. Rosë’s lover, Asralla, helped save the group by activating the totem known as the Artosiak although she perished at the end of the battle, leaving Rosë to deal with her loss and their two-month old son! Bruised, battered and low on spells – the heroes debated their next course of action.

Sacrificial Lamb?

Rosë knelt for a long time next to the cooling body of his lover, clutching the Artosiak. Rowan and Lew soon joined him, with Rowan looking expectantly at Lew to do something to help the barbarian woman. Lew quickly determined that she was well beyond his power and sadly shook his head. They left the Brigante to his grief and returned to the interior of the tower. Inside they found Quintus sitting on the floor – Sextus to one side and the crying baby on the other. After briefly regaining consciousness, Sextus had slipped into the slumber of the almost dead.

Rosë joined his companions in the tower, badly injured and heartbroken. Quintus showed him how to hold the baby (since he had lots of practice), then returned to the top of the tower to watch for returning barbarians. Meanwhile, Rowan and Lew moved to the small building that resembled an Abbey of Osirian. They found that it was indeed a small, simply appointed church. While examining the building, Rowan noticed several shallow grooves in the stone floor near the lectern. Surmising their purpose, the sharp-eyed ranger rolled the lectern back, revealing steep stairs that descended to a short hallway that ended in an alcove. They returned to others to appraise them of the “bolt hole” that they had just discovered.

During their absence, Quintus heard numerous horn calls coming from the general vicinity they had first encountered the tribesmen. When Lew and Rowan returned, he appraised the group of the calls and an intense debate commenced as to their significance and the next course of action. A variety of plans were discussed, including immediate flight, hiding in the alcove underneath the lectern in the church and sending an embassy to return the Artosiak to the tribesmen. Rosë was quite adamant that he be the one to return the totem. He insisted that his actions, nearly a year before, had put everyone else at risk and that he should be the one to return the talisman and suffer the wrath of the tribes.

Quintus was just as adamant that he be the one to go – since the animosity shown by the tribes towards Rosë was so intense. In addition, the sorcerer reasoned, IF Kothric still lived, then he might negotiate with Quintus, since there was a small amount of goodwill there. In the end, they decided that Lew, Rosë and Sextus would hid in the alcove while Rowan and Quintus attempted to locate the tribesmen and return the Artosiak. After gathering a small amount of equipment from the fallen barbarian warriors, the group split up.

Rowan and Sextus made their way down off the ridgeline, moving as carefully and quietly as they could. The morning mist had burned off and the spring sun was shining brightly. Halfway down, they heard another series of horn calls and the sharp-eyed Rowan spotted large numbers of tribesmen milling about in a clearing several bowshots away. The ranger’s heart sank when he realized that several score tribesmen were in the area – even more than they had battled earlier. He and Quintus beat a hasty retreat up the hill.

Meanwhile, Lew, Rosë and the unconscious Sextus made their way down to the alcove with the crying baby. Once they reached the alcove, two curious things happened. First, the infant, who had been crying loudly to that point, ceased its wails. Second, Lew was felt a powerful “presence”…he could not really put a finger on what it was, exactly, but he felt more at peace than he had in several days. Examining the alcove, he and Rosë determined there was the outline of a concealed door at the end. Lew gathered his holy power and directed it at the door.

A clear outline shone for a moment in a pale whitish-blue light, clearly delineating the door. Then the light sputtered and faded – the portal remained closed. Rosë set his shoulder against the door and pushed several times with all the strength that remained in him, but failed to budge the unyielding stone. Lew remembered reading about certain portals that required the recitation of a particular prayer or phrase, along with the channeling of holy power. Digging out his prayer book, the priest began to recite all of the prayers common to Osirian. Rosë, frustrated, badly wounded and tremendously fatigued, sat down on the cold stone floor, cradled his infant son in his arms and promptly fell asleep.

While Lew attempted to open the portal and Rosë dozed, Sextus stirred fitfully. The bard found himself in murky, tangible darkness. He pushed against it and soon found himself “swimming” through the darkness – a sensation akin to swimming through black oatmeal. Ahead he saw a pinpoint of blue-white light and moved towards it, stroke after stroke. As he neared the light, it flared brighter and a disembodied voice intoned, “Do you serve the light?”

Sextus replied, “I do!”

“Dost thou serve the light?”

The normally silver-tongued bard stammered, “I…I…I try to help people. I am kind to my family. I…I…I try to lead a good life.”

“Then speaketh – ‘I serve the Light’!”

The flustered bard called out, “I serve the light!”

Sextus felt a wave of peace wash over him and both the light and the darkness receded as he fell into a dreamless slumber.

Rowan and Quintus returned with the grim news of more barbarians gathering below. It was quickly decided that Quintus would await their coming at the top of the tower, while everyone else hid in the alcove. Since he was unscathed and still had some small amount of magic left, Quintus reasoned that he stood the best chance of escape if things proceeded poorly.

Awkward “good-byes” were made and Quintus rolled the lectern in place after the others had descended into the alcove. Dusk was falling as he reached the top of the tower and he settled down to wait for whatever might transpire. He offered up a quick prayer to Osirian to watch over his brother and the rest of his family.

The sorcerer did not have to wait long. As dusk met night, a long line of torches began snaking up the ridgeline. Within half a turn of the hourglass, three-score barbarian warriors marched through the gates and assembled before the towers. At their head was a tall, gaunt man dressed in furs with the pelt of a great bear covering his head and neck. In his left hand, he bore a gnarled wooden staff hung with all manner of fetishes. His eyes were bandaged and two bloody circles where visible at eye level. Two well-armed warriors guided the man. Angry muttering rose from the gathered warriors as they viewed their fallen brethren.

(DM’s Note: Rosë took some time earlier to arrange the fallen tribesmen in the ritual burial position used by the tribes.)

The muttering rose as Quintus cast a spell illuminating the area around him and revealing his position to the tribesman. The gaunt man raised his stave and commanded silence. The multitude quieted and the shaman looked up towards Quintus with sightless eyes.

“Where are the Artosiak and the traitor? Produce them or die.” the shaman said in a cracked and raspy voice, barely above a whisper.

Not a very promising start to the negotiations, Quintus thought grimly. Taking a deep breath, the sorcerer began to speak.

He related, in Gallic, what he knew of the talisman, its theft and the respective role’s of Asralla and Rosë. He offered heartfelt condolences for the loss of the brave warriors that lay below. He told them that he, alone, of all the companions, remained behind to see that the talisman was safely returned to the rightful owners. For several minutes, he held the barbarians’ rapt attention as he continued his story, relating information about the mysterious assassin who had shot down Kothric. He reminded the shaman that they had used healing magic on the Warlord’s son and done everything they could to save him. He asked if Kothric lived and, if so, how he fared.

(DM’s Note: I rolled the Diplomacy check for Quintus and rolled a natural ‘20’!)

The shaman indicated that Kothric did live, but was still unconscious and he parried Quintus’ other assertions, insisting that Rosë had been involved with the theft and had bewitched Asralla, who now lay dead as well. Quintus stuck to his story and repeated that he wanted nothing more than to return the talisman and return home. Belsag stopped for a moment and conferred with his warriors in hushed, hurried tones. Quintus stood stock-still, sweating profusely and trying to prevent his bladder from voiding from repressed fear. Then, the sorcerer heard a scraping and rustling sound from the backside of the tower.

Visions of assassins and black arrows darted through Quintus’ head. In a panic, he called to the barbarians that he was coming down and he descended the ladders to the ground floor with all haste. He stepped into the shattered doorway and faced the throng of hostile faces, scarcely five paces away, heart beating out of his chest. The shaman whispered to the warriors on either side of him and took a halting step forward. The bodyguards raised javelins, sighting on Quintus. “Give us the Artosiak or die!”

Quintus opened his mouth to reply and heard the scuff of boot leather against stone. Turning slightly, he saw a hooded and cloaked figure standing at the back corner of the tower. The glint of metal reflected in the light cast off by the tribesmen’s torches and the figure stepped towards him. The sorcerer managed to supress a scream, but both his bowels and bladder emptied in fear. The figure raised a hand…

To Be Continued…

Next: Session 6 (Part Two) – The Journey Home and Beyond

Old One

 

[Old One]

Session 6 (Part Two)

The Journey Home and Beyond

Quintus began to shout. “There is the assassin! He is the one who shot Kothric! Aaahhh!”

The terrified sorcerer backed out the doorway as the figure approached and a dim recess of his brain identified the clink of metal-on-metal as the barbarians raised their weapons to cut him down.

The cloaked figure filled the doorway and a ringing command echoed across the compound. “ENOUGH!”

The figure’s hood fell away, revealing Kothric!

Quintus’ addled brain feebly attempted to grasp how the warrior had gotten behind him. The overwrought sorcerer could do naught but stand, slack-jawed and extend his right hand, which held the Artosiak in a white-knuckled grip. The barbarian nodded at him with the slightest hint of a grin, to the talisman and pushed past Quintus to stand before the assembled tribesmen.

“The Steelman speaks the truth! I have come to know this!”

The Shaman’s face clouded over. “He has slain members of the people. He must die!”

“You do not command here,” Kothric replied. “We have our totem and it is well past the time we should be back across the Great Water!”

The Shaman opened his mouth again, but Kothric cut short his angry retort. “Do not dispute my will on this matter. There will be time enough to discuss this later.”

With that, he turned towards the stunned Quintus, nodded again and strode through the throng of tribesmen. Many looked at Quintus with undisguised hatred and fingered their weapons before grudgingly turning and following their leader. Last to go was the Shaman and his bodyguards. Quintus felt that even though the holy man’s eyes were bandaged, the Shaman could still see him. Within a few grains, Quintus was alone in the inner courtyard with his whirling thoughts and the dead.

He climbed back up in the tower to ensure that the tribesmen were truly gone. Satisfied, he rushed to the small church and rolled the lectern back, hastily descending to join his companions. He breathlessly related his tale and if any of his companions noticed his stained trousers, they didn’t let on. They quickly decided to stay in the alcove overnight, to give everyone a chance to rest and recuperate. The night passed uneventfully, save for some muffled noises above during Lew’s watch.

The following morning, Lew called upon several favors of Osirian and returned Sextus to wakefulness. He also prayed to Osirian to allow him alter one of his miracles – one that allowed him to create water – into milk suitable for the baby. He performed the miracle, but it produced only cool, clean water. Quintus feed it to the baby and it seemed to soothe the infant somewhat.

Once he was up, the irrepressible bard began babbling immediately about his dream. The others informed him of their inability to open the portal at the end of the alcove and he suggested they try the phrase the “presence” had bid Sextus speak. Lew shrugged, gathered himself and channeled the holy might of Osirian towards the door while shouting, “I follow the light!”

The outline around the door glowed brightly and the stone structure slid open silently. The lantern light revealed a large chamber with about 40 burial shafts sunk horizontally into the wall in vertical rows of three. Bodies swathed in burial clothes occupied most of the shafts and a large metal disk lay in the center of the floor, runic inscriptions running around the diameter. The air was stale and dry and Quintus commented that the chamber had probably been sealed for many years.

He and Lew made their way carefully into the room. Lew determined that the carved runes were a dialect of the Celestial tongue, but he had difficulty deciphering the exact meaning of the words. While they examined the writings, Sextus cast Detect Magic and focused his attention on the metal disk. The spell indicated that it was magical and Sextus soon picked up strong Necromantic emanations. Suddenly, a bluish-white mist started rising from the center of the metal disk!

“Brother!” Sextus called out, “The disk is giving off a strong aura of Necromantic magic.”

Quintus and Lew looked at each other in alarm, then bolted from the chamber in unison. Behind them, the mist began to coalesce into a shadowy form. Sextus made out vaguely human features before Lew called again upon the strength of Osirian and intoned, “I follow the light!”

The portal, dimly glowing, swung silently back into place and blocked their view of the burial chamber. “Perhaps we can come back and check on this later,” Lew mumbled. The others nodded in mute agreement and then they gathered their meager belongings and prepared to depart. Rowan exited first, short sword ready. He found nothing…no war band, no assassin…just a slight breeze that heralded the arrival of a gentle, but steady, rain.

The others exited quickly and decided to search the rest of the compound for any usable foodstuffs or equipment, especially grain that they could use to make a thin broth for the baby. Once they exited the underground alcove, the child began to cry immediately with great wails of hunger. They noticed that all of the bodies were gone and Lew surmised that the barbarians had returned during the night and spirited them away (even Asralla’s).

After a half-hour of searching, they located an old storeroom with some rotted grain in moldy sacks. Lew instructed the others to fill several pouches with the grain and indicated that he could purify the grain with a minor miracle before they cooked it. While the others searched, Sextus wandered about the hill fort, examining the various structures and looking for clues as to its origin. He determined that it was an outpost for an auxiliary cohort (probably the 2nd Cohort of the Rustica Auxilia) and had been abandoned for at least 30 winters.

As the others prepared to depart, Sextus stood in the center of the outer courtyard and boomed, “I hereby claim this holding for the family Scipio!” Turning to Quintus, he quipped, “There brother, that should solve our family’s housing problem…plenty of room here!”

Quintus shook his head, suppressing a grin. “Not a bad idea, Sextus. We shall have to think on that.”

With that, they departed the hill fort and headed for home, Rowan in the lead. The journey back to Glynden was uneventful, save for the occasional appearance of the pesky raven(s). Rowan secured several bird eggs at the start of each day. The yolks were boiled with the purified grain and water provided through Osirian’s miracles to create a very, very thin gruel to feed the child with. The solution seemed to work well, since the baby’s bowel movements were both regular and fragrant.

They saw no sign of pursuit, either from the barbarians or the assassin, but were slowed by constant rain and frequent stops for feeding Rosë’s son. During the journey, Quintus inquired as to whether or not the lad had a name. After thinking on it for some time, Rosë said that the child’s name would be Gordius Vercinox, after Rosë’s father and grandfather.

That required additional explanation, since Rosë indicated early in their relationship that his father was unknown. The others shook their head in amazement as the Brigante revealed more of his heritage. Sextus immediately recognized the name Gordius, but could not place it exactly. Rosë said that Gordius had been a great Warlord of the Steelmen and that jarred the bard’s memory.

Gordius was a tribune of senatorial rank that had been mustered out of the Legions for “accounting irregularities” just before Emperor Legatus IX recalled them. He stepped into the power vacuum created by the departure of the Legions and created a short-lived “Empire” centered on the city of Lords. Styling himself the “Emperor of the North”, he led a large army into the Western Wilds, shortly after taking power to “teach the heathens a lesson”.

The expedition was a disaster. Ambushed by a coalition of tribes, the army of the “Emperor of the North” was decimated and less than one hundred of the 25,000 men that followed Gordius across the Thunder River returned. His rashness stripped most of the rest of the able-bodied men from the Theme, making it easy prey for subsequent barbarian attacks. Everyone assumed that Gordius (and his enchanted blade) were lost with the rest, but Rosë claimed that Gordius had been captured by Vercinox, Warlord of the Brigantes, and kept as a slave. He won the heart of Gailia, daughter of Vercinox, and soon begat a child upon her. Furious, Vercinox had Gordius thrown into a pit with wolves, but he slew them with his bare hands. Then Vercinox had him staked out on the “Hill of Sorrows” for the eagles to eat, but he loosed his bonds and escaped. Rosë concluded his story by saying that he didn’t know what happened to Gordius after that, but that his mother, Gailia, thought he had escaped back to the land of the Steelmen.

Sextus, who had been following the tale closely, stopped for a moment and said in disbelief, “Let me get this straight. Your father is the so-called ‘Emperor of the North’ and your grandfather is the Warlord of the Brigantes?”

Rosë stopped for a moment with a perplexed look on his face. He had never really thought about it that way before. A sheepish grin spread across the huge barbarian’s face and he began to blush. He nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Sextus shook his head slowly, “Rosë, are there ANY other secrets we should be aware of?”

It took them five days to get back to Glynden and they arrived cold, wet and tired. Rowan slipped away to visit his mother, Lew made for the Abbey and Sextus, Quintus and Rosë went to the Scipio home. A lump of fear caught in the brothers’ collective throats as they found their family’s ramshackle house empty and abandoned…

To Be Continued…

Next: Session 6 (Part Three) - The Joy of Family

Old One

 

[Old One]

Session 6 (Part Three)

The Joy of Family

Quintus, Sextus and Rosë rushed to the Abbey. They were tremendously relieved to find that Father Thomas had arranged to house them in a small caretaker’s cottage behind the Abbey, in exchange for housekeeping and cleaning help. Their relief was tempered by two other pieces of unwelcome news. First, their father had slipped into a coma several days before they arrived back in Glynden, shortly after his last dose of krithroot. Secondly, their sister Sabrina had gone missing.

After leaving little Gordius in the care of Quintus and Sextus’ mother and sisters, the group quickly gave Father Thomas a synopsis of their adventure. They then sought out Kyndalyn to tell him of the delivery of Kothric, the battle at the old hill fort, the assassin and the loss of the buckboard and team. They also showed him the black, barbed arrow they had removed from Kothric. He examined it closely and seemed very troubled by the prospect of the unknown assassin. They also called his attention to the mysterious arrow that had warned the gnolls of the ambush Kyndalyn and the party had set for them some weeks before. Kyndalyn agreed to make inquiries about the arrow and told them he would try to smooth over the loss of the buckboard and team with the Council of Elders.

Rowan took the arrow to his sometime employer, Rivthyn the Bowyer to ask his opinion. Rivthyn indicated he thought the arrow was of Felevar make. He indicated that he would make some additional inquiries and study it further.

Meanwhile, Quintus and Sextus fanned out around town; making quiet inquires about their sister. As they proceeded, Quintus warned Sextus to be discreet. “Brother,” the bard replied with an injured look, “discretion is my middle name!”

After plying the tavern patrons with drink and song, quizzing the gate guards and talking with members of the militia, they discovered that her probable location was the Castellan Jucadius, about a 6-hour walk to the south. Furious with their wayward sibling, they made plans to travel to the villa the next day to fetch her home. Returning to the new Scipio quarters, Rosë reached an agreement with the Matron Scipio to care for the baby, including arranging for a wet nurse. Greatly relieved, Rosë retired to the tavern to consume large quantities of ale, mutton and potatoes.

Lew spoke with Father Thomas late into the evening, discussing the growing power Osirian seemed to be infusing him with. The elder priest quizzed his acolyte for an hour or so. Satisfied with the answers, Father Thomas informed Lew that Osirian had shown him great favor and that it was time for Lew to prepare to be elevated to Acolyte of the Second Mystery. Father Thomas smiled and told Lew to get a good night’s sleep, for he would begin the 3-day vigil of fasting and prayer the next day!

Quintus, Sextus and Rosë departed early the next day and traveled to the Castellan Jucadius. They were stopped at the gatehouse of the well-fortified villa by a pair of surly gate-guards and gruffly asked to state their business. The ever-diplomatic Quintus strongly encouraged the guards to send his sister out to speak with them. After a hasty conference, one of the guards departed, while the other continued to watch the trio with thinly disguised disdain. Sextus paced back and forth while Rosë glowered at the guard with his most intimidating look. Quintus remained calm and steady.

After fifteen turns of the minute glass, Sabrina appeared, escorted by the other guard. She was dressed in an elegant, low-cut emerald green dress that exposed far too much skin for Quintus’ taste. Halting before her brothers behind the still-lowered portcullis, Sabrina crossed her arms, tossed her hair and demanded petulantly to know what they were doing there.

“We were worried about you,” Quintus replied evenly. “Father has taken gravely ill, mother is beside herself and you have run off to be with Orsen Jucadius. This is all very unseemly.”

“I am tired of being cooped up in that stuffy town,” she snapped. “Orsen loves me and treats me well. Look at the fine things he gives me.” She twirled gracefully as she spoke, revealing the open back of the dress. “Don’t trouble yourself over me. As you can see, I am perfectly happy!”

“What are his intentions towards you?” Quintus pressed.

“That is none of your business!” She replied haughtily. “You have been here and can clearly see that I am fine. Perhaps you should run along now, brothers.” With that, she turned and strutted away without so much as a backward glance.

Quintus, seething internally, said quietly, “Let us depart. We have found out what we came to find out. She has made her own bed – let her lie in it.”

He spun away and stalked down the trail. Rosë followed him, but Sextus stepped up to the iron bars. “Tell your master that if he makes my sister cry, he will pay dearly!” The diminutive bard whispered in a low, menacing tone.

The gate guards exchanged startled glances and slowly nodded their heads. Satisfied that Orsen Jucadius had been duly warned Sextus followed his brother and the barbarian down the path, whistling a bright and happy tune!


Most of the party spent the next couple of days purchasing new equipment, practicing new skills and honing their expanding abilities. On the evening of the third full day after their return, the joined Lew and a small gathering of the faithful as the cleric was invested with the status of Acolyte of the Second Mystery. At the end of the simple, yet moving ceremony, a small nimbus of blue-white light appeared above the cleric’s head. It circled lazily down to Lew, landed on his brow and flared brightly for a moment. A soft blue glow diffused throughout the room as Father Thomas presented the newly elevated Lew. Hearty congratulations followed and the band retired to Nan’s tavern for a celebratory dinner and to discuss their next course of action.

Several travelers had arrived from Oar the day before and told a harrowing tale of being assaulted by a mixed band of humans and gnolls near the ruins of Greenspire. The brigands fought under a crimson and black banner and had slain eight members of the group. The band hotly debated traveling to the area of the ruins, following up on the now-cold trail of “R” and the missing miners from Clan MacGlowen, returning to the hill fort or embarking on another quest.

They speculated that the bandits were somehow allied with “R” and the Cult of Ashai, since the livery that both possessed was very similar. The group decided to travel to the 5th and 6th mine traces, attempt to find “R” or the missing miners and perhaps refill their dwindling coffers.

(DM’s Note: Three of the PCs advanced to 3rd level after Session 5 and training costs ate up much of their combined funds. Quintus loaned Rowan some money so he could complete his training in some new skills.)

They set out at first light the next morning and were greeted by a beautiful spring day. They passed the spot of their initial encounter with Kothric and his small war band, but found no trace of the encounter or the large bag of mining equipment that Rosë was forced to drop and abandon during the battle. The ubiquitous raven made several appearances during the otherwise uneventful journey, although it stayed well out of bowshot.

Just outside the 5th mine trace, they came upon an abandoned mining camp of a dozen tents. All of the tents were empty and it appeared that most of the equipment had been ransacked. They did come across two torn tunics bearing the rust, green and brown plaid of the Clan MacGlowen. Just past midday, they slipped into the gaping mouth of the mineshaft. The initial cut opened into a wide chamber from which four other shafts radiated.

Choosing the right-most shaft, the group advanced cautiously, Rowan on point. The first shaft sloped down steeply and had a crude rope handrail attached to the right side of the wall with pitons. After descending 50 or so paces, the shaft ended. Several abandoned pick-axes and mining buckets littered the end of the shaft, but it was otherwise empty. They retraced their steps to the large chamber, although Rowan thought he heard a scraping sound as they reached the chamber.

Several minutes of inspection showed no signs of anything amiss, so they advanced to the next shaft and proceeded down it. This one was fairly level and Quintus picked up several trace veins of tin in the walls. After 50 or 60 paces, the shaft opened up into a very large, wide chamber that bore signs of significant recent digging. Again, several buckets, spades and pick-axes were in evidence – but no miners or signs of a struggle. Increasingly nervous and perplexed, they made their way carefully around the chamber, circling from right to left. They found another shaft leading out and Quintus’ experience told him that it probably led back the entrance chamber and was the third of the four shafts.

They hadn’t gone five paces into the shaft when Rowan heard a noise echo from up the shaft. Weapons were readied and the group closed their formation. Rowan couched low and moved forward, short sword ready. About ten paces from the end of the shaft, he felt his left hand hit something. Looking down, he saw, to his horror, that his left hand had hit a thin metal tripwire, which was attached to the wall on each side by a metal ring. Fortunately, he had not pulled the wire loose!

After a hasty conference in hushed tones, they decided to return to the second shaft and depart that way. Again, Rowan heard faint noises ahead and proceeded with great caution. Unfortunately, he discovered another tripwire and this time, he pulled the right hand ring from the wall. The ring landed on the stone with a faint tinkling sound that echoed loudly in the ranger’s ears.

Rowan froze in place, tensing his body for whatever diabolical trap as going spring on him. After several moments, nothing happened. Rowan breathed a tentative sigh of relief and waited a little longer, his mind turning rapidly. “This was not here when we passed through the first time,” he said quietly to his companions, “else we would have tripped it before.”

He stood, flattened himself against the right hand wall and inched past the area the tripwire was in. Still, nothing untoward occurred. He waved the others forward to his position. One-by-one, they slipped by the spot and soon all were clustered near the mouth of the shaft. Rowan turned to his friends, fear reflecting from his eyes in the lantern light.

“Someone…or something…is stalking us!”

To Be Continued…

Next: Session 7 (Part One) - Of Crossbows and Kobolds

Old One

 

[Old One]

Session 7 (Part One)

When we last left our intrepid band, they were creeping around the 5th Mine Trace and had encountered several tripwires and kept hearing faint scuffing noises. Unnerved and paranoid in the extreme, they contemplated their next course of action.

Of Crossbows and Kobolds

After carefully bypassing the area around the 2nd tripwire, Rowan led the group back out into the main entrance chamber to the mine. A quiet, yet heated discussion began as to their next course of action. Lew and Quintus were both spooked and wanted to leave the mine immediately, since something was obviously following them around and setting some type of trap behind them. Sextus argued that leaving an “unknown” behind was foolish and they should deal with whatever was stalking them now, rather than wait until later. Rowan and Rosë were non-committal. Quintus, suddenly aware that their whispered voices were echoing through the mine chamber, suggested they take their discussion outside.

With Rowan leading, they moved back to the abandoned mining camp, formed up in a defensive circle and prepared to continue their discussion. The sharp-eyed Rowan noticed a large raven perched in a tree watching them. This time, however, the foolish bird had chosen to perch within missile range. Both Rowan and Rosë snapped off quick shots with their bows. Rosë’s arrow sailed wide, but Rowan’s aim looked true, arriving just as the raven took to wing. Several black feathers drifted earthward and the bird let out a panicked squawk, dove low to the ground and flew northwards with all possible speed, quickly passing out of range. “That’ll teach you to spy on your betters,” Rowan mumbled. “Take that back to your mistress!”

The group quickly returned to their discussion. Quintus and Lew pressed for returning to town, then traveling south to Oar. Quintus enumerated the reasons:

• To warn the caravan traveling up from Oar about the possibility of a major bandit attack
  
• Peruse the library at the Cathedral in Oar about the Cult of Ashai and get a better idea about what they were dealing with
  
• Attempt to find Lew’s brother Marcus and affect reconciliation between them

Rowan nodded in agreement and Rosë shrugged his massive shoulders. Sextus, however, argued vehemently that they should at least try to find out what was stalking them, commenting, “I would rather deal with this now, while alert and prepared, than have something attack me when I am in my night clothes on the way to the privy!”

After a few more minutes of discussion, Quintus and Lew grudgingly acquiesced and they prepared to return to the mine. Rowan led, as usual, but they placed Rosë at the back of the formation to deal with anything that tried to sneak up on them from behind. They moved off down the 4th and final shaft. Quintus illuminated the passage with arcane light every 20 paces or so to ensure they didn’t have to fight in the dark. They passed through a rather unstable looking area (although the Scipio brothers, utilizing their mining and engineering knowledge, pronounced that it was safe to proceed) and continued down the long mine shaft. Rowan noticed several faint tracks in some rock dust as they moved through a small chamber, but could not determine their origin. After a quarter of an hour, they reached the end of the shaft, which opened into a large natural cavern.

The party entered on a corner and the chamber stretched out ahead of them about 30 paces and to their right al least another 30 paces or more. Stalagmites and stalactites dotted the room and at least two massive natural stone pillars supported the ceiling eight or nine paces above their heads. Rowan thought he heard the faint trickle of water, but the sounded faded quickly. The dull glint of metal was visible just at the end of their lantern light directly ahead. After a hasty conference, Quintus and Rosë advanced to examine the metal object. They found 3 partially full mining buckets and a pick ax in the corner of the chamber, but nothing else. Quintus noted several cuts in the far wall of the cave that revealed rich veins of tin. The pair returned to the group, which then deployed and started moving across the cavern. “Stay alert, everyone,” Quintus warned. “This is a great place for an ambush!”

Prophetic words.

Rowan was 20 paces into the chamber when he caught a flicker of shadowy movement ahead. Rosë, Quintus and Sextus all heard a faint yipping sound. Lew was engrossed in the braided design on his boots and neither heard or saw anything. The chamber exploded in a flurry of flying crossbow bolts and chanted spells!

Before they could act, magical slumber overcame Rosë and Quintus and they slumped to the floor. Rowan ducked behind a stone pillar as several crossbow bolts flashed through the spot he had been standing. Numerous shadowy shapes, small and quick, flitted about the chamber, peppering the companions with missile fire. A confused battle ensued.

It soon became apparent that they were facing two groups of opponents, one that had followed them down the mineshaft and the other that was attacking from the darkness on the far side of the chamber. Arrows and bolts flew furiously back and forth while Quintus traded Sleep spells with at least two hidden casters. Half the actions of the party were spent shaking slumbering companions back to wakefulness as Rowan, Rosë and Lew succumbed in turn. In addition, most were soon wounded by crossbow bolts.

Sextus took a moment to enchant a crossbow bolt with arcane light and launch it into the dark part of the chamber. The well-placed bolt illuminated several of the small creatures crouching near a small, round hole in one wall. Quintus (the only one with a good angle) saw them duck into the hole and close a hidden door. Meanwhile, the arrows and spells of the party started to turn the tide and soon half-a-dozen of the small creatures had fallen, either dying or asleep. Rosë engaged three of the creatures with arrow fire as they peeked their heads around the corner from the small chamber back up the mineshaft the party had passed though earlier. Quintus’ foresight in illuminating the area with arcane light helped the barbarian see his opponents, but their clever use of cover prevented him from damaging them seriously. The trio responded with equally ineffectual crossbow fire, although one did hurl a greenish arrow of arcane force at the warrior, causing a minor wound.

The rest of the party advanced across the large cavern. As they neared the spot several of their opponents had fallen, the small door opened in the wall and two heads poked out. Rowan made out reddish-brown skin and glowing red eyes with vertical black pupils on the vaguely dog-like faces. He brought his bow up to fire, but the pair disappeared into the tunnel with a startled “yip” and slammed the door shut. “I think these are called ‘kobolds’,” Rowan announced. “I remember the ‘Old Man’ describing them to me. He said they are pretty sneaky, use lots of traps and are pretty good miners.”

Quintus and Lew converged on the area while Sextus moved to examine two others that had fallen by another pillar. The bard found one of the two was alive, but sleeping. After a short internal moral struggle, Sextus raised his crossbow and sent a bolt into the creature’s skull from half-a-pace away. The missile tore completely through the small head, spraying a welter of blood and brains across the floor. Near the other bodies, Lew retrieved one of the crossbows and some bolts from one of the dead while Quintus and Rowan watched the area of the hidden door. The ranger examined the wall, determining the outline of the door, but could not find a way to open it. Sextus joined them, eying another one of the fallen creatures, finger tight on his crossbow trigger.

A quick philosophical discussion ensued. Lew could not recall any church doctrine relating directly to kobolds, but he argued that they should at least take the creature hostage, question it and give it the chance to repent from its ways (if, in fact, it was evil). The Scipio brothers did not like the thought of any loose ends, but they finally agreed with Lew. “Well,” Quintus reasoned, “we can always make it walk in front and use it as a trap detector!”

Sextus moved to truss up the sleeping kobold while Lew covered him with a crossbow at point-blank range. The little creature work with a start, glowing red eyes darting about, but it offered no resistance. Quintus stepped forward and began to question the kobold in a low, menacing voice. It was soon clear the creature could not understand the sorcerer, but Quintus’ tone and manner were clear and the kobold started quaking uncontrollably and soon befouled itself. Quintus grasped the rope securing the captive roughly, hauled the little creature forward and motioned towards the secret door in the wall. The sorcerer made his intentions clear through stabbing hand signals and the terrified kobold scooted forward and used its snout to push a small section of stone at the juncture of the floor and wall. An audible click resulted and Quintus pushed open the unlatched door, revealing a narrow circular corridor little more than a pace across.

(DM’s Note: I rolled a 20 on Quintus’ intimidate check, for a total of 26! Needless to say, the poor kobold literally messed in its pants…)

While the other four party members were bullying the poor kobold, Rosë’s opponents had ducked behind a corner and disappeared. After a minute or two, the impatient barbarian moved down the mineshaft towards the small chamber, long bow ready. When he reached the room, he found empty. Momentarily perplexed, Rosë quickly reasoned that there must be a secret or hidden door along one of the walls, since he could have seen any escape attempt down the hallway or across the room. He backed up several paces and readied an arrow to shoot at whatever emerged from the wall.

Quintus thought briefly about trying to crawl down the narrow tunnel but quickly discarded the idea. 'I just know there is a chamber back there filled with treasure,' the sorcerer mused to himself. 'I guess it will have to wait for another day!'

He moved back to the mine shaft to instruct Rosë to join him while Sextus called upon a magical power that allowed him to detect hidden and secret doors and began to slowly move around the chamber. Rowan kept watch on the hole and Lew guarded their trembling captive. Rosë turned slightly to speak with Quintus and failed to notice a group of kobolds sneaking down the mineshaft from the direction of the main mine entrance.

He shouted in alarm as crossbow bolts landed all around, but they all miraculously missed. A shrill cry rose from the kobold group as one of the creatures fired a bolt into the back of his comrade’s head, killing it instantly. The barbarian gritted his teeth and fought of the desire to lay down and sleep as a kobold sorcerer targeted him with arcane slumber. Rosë reacted quickly, sending an arrow screaming down the hall and into one of the crouching crossbowman. The missile hit the unfortunate kobold high in the chest and tore through its right lung, killing it.

Quintus, at the extreme end of his range, responded with a sleep spell of his own, dropping the two remaining crossbowmen. The kobold sorcerer dropped to one knee and shook his fellows vigorously before springing to his feet and rushing back down the corridor, away from the barbarian and Quintus. The other two crossbowmen awoke, shaking their heads groggily, then followed their companion towards the mine entrance. Rosë fired at the retreating creatures, but the arrow skittered along the ceiling before dropping harmlessly to the floor. The kobolds disappeared around a bend in the mineshaft and were gone.

Sextus located another secret door on the opposite side of the room from the first and they induced their captive to open that one as well with threatening gestures. Their lanterns revealed a square-cut passageway, perhaps two paces by two paces, that led to some steep steps that headed down. Rowan again caught the faint sound of trickling water. Quintus left Rosë to guard the mineshaft and returned to get the others. They quickly agreed that the best course of action was to return to Glynden and let Father Thomas and/or Kyndalyn question their captive. They quickly salvaged what gear they could from their fallen foes, obtaining: several decent crossbows, some bolts, a handful of silver and copper coins, three freshly killed rats, two half-eaten rats and two half-eaten lizards. The kobolds’ armor was made of cured giant rat hides, with the tails still attached. They found no other talismans or symbols.

On their way out of the mine, they found another secret passage in the small chamber where Rosë’s earlier opponents had vanished. They left that one open (as they had all the others), reasoning that if they doors were closed when they returned, then the tunnels would probably be occupied again. Pausing momentarily to gather the useful gear of the kobolds that had fallen further down the mineshaft, the party hastened forward and exited the mine. Rowan immediately noted tracks and a blood trail leading of the northwest. The ranger estimated that five or six of the diminutive kobolds had departed in that direction. The companions briefly considered following the trail, but decided to return to town, question their captive and proceed based on that information.

They pushed hard to make it back to town before the sounding of the gate horn. About a half-hour from town, with twilight rapidly approaching, the tired band failed to notice a black speck dropping from the darkening sky. Sextus’ vision filled with flared black wings as a large raven, shimmering with a silvery sheen, swooped under his nose and hit the kobold that Lew was leading. Electricity crackled in the cooling evening air and the little creature’s body went rigid as sparks flew from its body. The bird cawed once, a taunting sound that seemed to be laughter, then began to flap away.

Momentarily surprised, Rowan and Rosë recovered and fired at the fleeing bird in unison. Both arrows found their mark and the bird careened toward the ground cawing and flapping weakly. The raven recovered just before it hit the earth and flew drunkenly towards the north. Quintus and Lew added their crossbows to the arrows of Rosë and Rowan, but all of the missiles flew wide and the raven disappeared into the gathering gloom. Sextus threw himself on the kobold, which was still throwing off small sparks, and attempted to stabilize the creature but it was too late.

Whatever secrets the little creature held in its mind were now gone. Dejected, frustrated and tired, the party deposited the smoking body in a small copse of trees before pressing on the final half-league to Glynden. Their steps quickened as they caught the smell from the evening cooking fires and they entered town ten turns of the minute glass before the sounding of the gate horn.

As he passed under the sturdy gatehouse, Quintus wondered to himself, 'How powerful is that bird’s master…?'

To Be Continued…

Next: Session 7 (Part Two) – Poison, Accusations and a Trial

Old One

 

[Old One]

Session 7 (Part Two)

Poison, Accusations and a Trial

Over mutton and onion stew, the group pondered their next course of action. Sextus wanted to take several days to refine a fighting technique he had seen Kyndalyn the Younger use. Of course, he was short on funds (as usual) and hit Quintus up for the required coin. They decided to travel to the seaport of Oar, about three week’s travel to the south, for three purposes:

• Research the library at the Cathedral of Osirian in Oar for more information on the Cult of Ashai
• Attempt reconciliation between Lew and his brother Marcus
• Warn the trading caravan of the increased bandit activity around the ruins of Greenspire

While Sextus trained, they put the down time to good use. They rented a mule and made several trips to the 5th mine trace to retrieve the abandoned equipment there. The teamster knew of their failure to return the buckboard and team from the Kothric affair and levied a very large deposit. As they approached the site for the third time, they saw a thick column of black smoke rising into the air. “Damn kobolds,” Quintus mumbled.

They didn’t even bother to go the rest of the way to the 5th mine trace, assuming the remaining supplies had been burned. The supplies they did recover, along with some weapons salvaged from the kobold fight, helped refill the ever-lightening money pouches of the party, due in large part to Luella’s skillful bargaining.

Quintus accompanied by Rosë, trekked south to the Jucadius villa to visit his wayward sister – after collecting small gifts from the rest of his family to show the girl that everyone missed her. Sabrina remained adamant that Orsen Jucadius was her true love and made it quite clear that nothing Quintus (or anyone else) could say would change her mind. She did accept the gifts, however, and Quintus thought he detected a small tear in the corner of her eye as she turned away. She also informed her brother that Orsen and the other “Swords” had departed for the Oar road earlier that day to search for the gnoll and human bandits. “Remember, Sabrina…you are always welcome in our new home.”

With that pronouncement, Sabrina broke and ran for the main villa. Satisfied that he had done all he could, he and Rosë returned to Glynden. Over ale at the inn that night, Quintus wondered aloud about his father’s condition. Lew set his mug down and replied, “Is it possible your father has been poisoned?”

Quintus sat motionless, flagon midway between the trestle table and his lips and stared at his friend. The sorcerer’s mind whirled with implications and incriminations. “Can you determine this?” Quintus asked in a quiet voice.

“Indeed,” replied the cleric. “A minor miracle from Osirian can reveal the taint of poison.”

Within half a turn of the minute glass, they stood at his father’s bedside and Lew called upon the power of Osirian to show any poison that affected the elder Scipio. “It’s there,” Lew said slowly, “it is very faint…but your father is definitely under the influence of some type of poison!”

‘Josephus!’ That solitary name burned through Quintus mind and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to immediately seek the woodsman out and denounce him. Father Thomas was quickly summoned and he confirmed his acolyte’s findings. “I apologize for not thinking of this earlier,” the abbot said quietly. “I didn’t even think to check for this.”

With an exterior calm that belied the rage building within him, Quintus asked Rowan to fetch Kyndalyn. With Father Thomas and Kyndalyn present, Quintus laid out his theory and accused Josephus of poisoning his father using krithroot or some other poison. “Josephus is a valued member of the community and I consider him a friend,” the constable replied evenly. “To what end would he do such a thing?”

“Perhaps to clear the way to court my mother or for some other purpose,” Quintus replied testily. “All I know is that no one but Josephus has had such an opportunity. I wish to make a formal charge against him!”

Kyndalyn looked uncomfortable with the prospect, but, after conferring briefly with Father Thomas, agreed to bring Josephus at first light to answer the charges. Temporarily mollified, Quintus quickly prepared for the “trial” the following morning. He arranged for Rowan and Rosë to guard the Scipio home, while he, Lew and his mother joined Father Thomas in the abbey’s infirmary with his prostrate father. Sextus he stationed at the infirmary door, in case the trapper, once accused, attempted to flee. Satisfied with the arrangements, he paced nervously, awaiting the arrival of Kyndalyn and Josephus.

While they waited, Father Thomas, imbued by the light of Osirian, purged the poison from the elder Scipio’s body. The crippled man did not immediately regain consciousness and Father Thomas indicated that it could take some time to see if he would fully recover.

The woodsman knew something was afoot as soon as he entered the room. His eyes darted about, quickly assessing the situation. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed, hands dropping away from the hatchet and heavy fighting knife at his waist. He slowly withdrew a large piece of tobacco from his belt pouch, tore off a chunk, folded his arms across his chest and waited.

Kyndalyn cleared his throat uncomfortably and began. “Josephus, your service to the town these past few winters has been exemplary, yet we have a serious accusation before us. Quintus Scipio, will you please repeat your charges.”

Quintus felt the woodsman’s eyes boring into him in a cold and steady stare as he condemned Josephus for poisoning his father. He returned the stare, but felt an almost uncontrollable fear welling up inside him.

Kyndalyn spoke again. “Father Thomas will call upon a miracle of Osirian to ensure that the truth is spoken hear. Will you, Josephus of Bremerton, submit to this?”

The trapper nodded, never taking his eyes from Quintus.

Father Thomas stepped forward and invoked the miracle of Osirian. An almost imperceptible glow filled the room and Quintus felt a mild pressure in his mind and knew he would have to reply truthfully to any question asked of him. He saw Josephus flinch ever so slightly and the woodsman’s jaw line set in stubborn defiance.

Father Thomas and Kyndalyn began to question Josephus. To Quintus’ amazement, the trapper denied any knowledge of or involvement in the poisoning of the elder Scipio. He answered in short, clipped tones, his rising anger apparent in his voice. He punctuated his answers with deliberate arcs of tobacco juice. Lew thought idly that it would take a lot of scrubbing to clean the infirmary floor!

Suddenly, midway through the questioning, a thought leapt unbidden into Lew’s mind. He hastily excused himself and departed, making for the Scipio home in all haste. He quickly conferred with Rosë and Rowan, then hastened back to the infirmary. He arrived just as Father Thomas and Kyndalyn exhausted their questions. Leaning close to Quintus, he whispered, “What about Abrigal?”

Quintus’ eyes snapped to his friend’s face and a look of confusion, mixed with frustration and anger, played across the sorcerer’s visage. Quintus cut off all further commentary in that direction with a curt shake of his head. He looked up to find Josephus staring at him, eyes dark with fury.

“Are we done here?” The trapper drawled, arcing a glistening stream of tobacco juice in the general vicinity of Quintus’ feet.

Kyndalyn and Father Thomas exchanged worried glances and the abbot turned to Quintus and shrugged his shoulders. “By the light of Osirian, I find no deception in his words.”

Keenly aware of the magic still suffusing the room, Quintus made a truthfully worded, if insincere, apology to Josephus. The trapper merely grunted in return and looked at Kyndalyn and Father Thomas, in turn, before returning his gaze to Quintus. Despite the venom in that glance, Quintus did not turn away, but returned in full measure.

Josephus strode to the door, where the diminutive Sextus stood guard. The bard held his ground for a moment, staring up at the broad shoulders and scarred face of the woodsman. “Mind if I leave,” Josephus said in a quiet, yet dangerous voice.

Sextus moved aside and Josephus left the infirmary, almost colliding with Rowan and Rosë, who were crowded around the door, ready for trouble. The trapper shot them a withering look before brushing past them and exiting the abbey. Kyndalyn, a pained expression on his face, looked from Quintus to the prone form of the elder Scipio and back again. With a slight shrug of his shoulders and a quick nod to Father Thomas, he slipped from the room.

Angry, disgusted and confused, Quintus felt blood suffuse his face with dejected embarrassment. “Come…the sooner we are on the road, the better!”

Father Thomas laid a hand on the sorcerer’s forearm. “This miracle is not infallible. It is difficult to overcome the compulsion of truth, but it IS possible. My sense is that Josephus was telling the truth, but I do not know that with absolute certainty. I shall look after your father and do everything in my power to speed his recovery.”

Quintus mumbled his thanks to Father Thomas and stepped to his father’s bed, where his mother sat quietly, holding her husband’s hand. ‘Father,’ Quintus thought fiercely, ‘I will discover the truth of this!’

He kissed his mother on the cheek and his father on the forehead, then swept from the chamber. In his wake, his friends exchanged worried glances with Father Thomas, then followed. The companions quickly gathered their gear and prepared for the long journey to Oar. They were so loaded down with provisions that they decided to purchase a mule to help carry their gear. Half a turn of the hourglass later, muttering that teamsters were the “true” bandits, they were prepared to depart.

“What should we name the mule?” Lew inquired.

“How about Josephus,” Rosë replied, a broad grin spreading across his face. “It’s the perfect name for an ass!”

“His name is Pratto,” Quintus said absently. Hitching up his pack, the dejected sorcerer squared his shoulders and started for gate, his mind whirling with implications and portents. Abrigal’s face swam before him, alternating with the grim face of Ned Gallway and the scarred visage of Josephus.

Sextus lifted his voice, belting out a cheery marching tune as they strode down the switchback trail. To the east, the rising Eye of Osirian framed the cloud-crowned summit of Dragonspire Mountain. Bright blue sky, marred only by a few high clouds, stretched overhead and spring flowers, heavy with morning dew, lined their path. The beauty of the morning was lost on Quintus, who struggled to banish dark thoughts from his mind. The journey to Oar had begun!

To Be Continued…

Next: Session 8 (Part One) - Return of the Table of Elemental Evil!

(DM’s Note: Thus ends Session 7! The next couple of sessions could prove to be most interesting, since the party is traveling out of their “nest” for the first time and the road to Oar is long and fraught with many dangers!)

Old One

 

[Old One]

Interlude - Quintus' Journal

More commentary from the "scheming sorcerer" - Quintus.

Enjoy

Quintus' Journal

Before entering the cave I saw the crow, who I now believe to be Darkclaw the familiar of the mysterious "R," that is always following us. The bird was flying rapidly, as if to give warning of our approach. So when it became clear that someone was actively arming traps around us in the mine, my mind envisioned our powerful necromantic opponent.

We quickly exited the mine's tunnels to regroup. Father Thomas' warning that our enemy is strong echoing in my mind, I advocated returning to Glyndyn. Sextus surprised me with his vehement argument for finishing our exploration of the abandoned mine. Points made, it seemed to me that the others were watching me to decide a course of action.

My indecision lasted only moments. In my youth my grandfather, Tribune Antonine Scipio, taught me a basic philosophy: "In fighting the enemies of Emor, may she bring light the world forever, you must be aggressive, decisive, and ruthless." Since the enemies he meant were the barbarians across the Thunder River, one of whom is now my companion, the memory held some awkwardness. I also thought of the staff of rank, touched by the emperor's hand, given to my great-grandfather Senior Centurion Manlius Scipio for his heroism. I saw it once in my life, just before it was sold to cover grandfather's drinking debts. Written on its shaft was "Who dares wins."

We would go back into the cave.

We rearranged ourselves, placing the barbarian at our rear where his bravery and strength would be immediately available against our shadowy pursuer. Every sixty feet, I dropped a light spell to ensure that anyone behind us would not have the comfort of concealing shadows.

We progressed into the tunnels, exploring a few areas where mining picks and buckets had been dropped. Work had obviously halted in disarray. Roget Crow, my mining team foreman, would have skinned me had I treated my tools in such a fashion. Crow is a good man, but in Bigglestrom Braithwaite's mine, tools are of greater value than miners.

We came to a large natural cavern. Stalactites and stalagmites, damp with mineral laden moisture, were scattered around the space. Our lantern's light failed to reach far enough for us to see the cavern's opposite wall.

"Be careful, this looks like a good place for an ambush," I said.

Rose and I, covered by Rowan's bow, ventured in to investigate a shiny object Rowan had noticed. It turned out to be a pick. Finding nothing lurking behind the cavern's stony pillars, Rose and I, now joined by Sextus, began to press further into the darkness.

Suddenly, I felt as if I was being roused from a deep slumber. Groggily opening my eyes I found I was flat on my back. Sextus, alarm on his features, was simultaneously trying to shake me and point his crossbow at an unseen assailant. The ambush we were tensely awaiting was sprung. From the tunnel behind us and the darkness to our front, short reptilian creatures revealed themselves. They made yipping sounds at one another while launching crossbow bolts into our position.

The action was brief and confused. I lobbed a couple of Sleep spells at our attackers. Between my magic and my companion's missile we quickly dropped the four beasts visible in our front.

Their mage, still unseen, made his presence felt by dropping Rose into an arcane slumber. Rose's position in the cave ruled out the spell coming from the tunnel to our rear.

I yelled, "There are more of them in front of us!"

Thinking fast, Sextus magically illuminated a bolt and fired it into the darkness at our front. That revealed two more of the creatures, who looked both surprised and uncomfortable as our weapons began to swing their way. The almost tumbled over each other escaping into a hole they had cleverly concealed in the cavern wall.

We now controlled the cavern. Rose, roused from his slumber by Lew, seemed to have the beasts in the tunnel on the defensive as well. As we advanced on sleeping and dead creatures lying on the cavern floor, that little hole popped open again. Surprised, the little beastie who had been set to emerge, disappeared back into his hole.

"I think these are kobolds," Rowan announced.

That meant little to me. They had sought to kill us, so my conscience was untroubled when I told Sextus to finish off those I had put to sleep while I tried to help Rose. The barbarian was engaged in trading missile fire with some of the kobolds who remained in the tunnel. They retreated before I arrived at his side.

Returning to the others, I found that Sextus had finished off one slumbering kobold, but had hesitated at the second. Lew was presenting moral arguments about no clear church position that kobolds serve the shadow. According to him, we should be merciful to the creature and allow it the chance to embrace the light.

I like Lew and have grown to respect, if not fully agree with, his idealistic morality. His church has recently provided housing for my family, an action that has done much to erase my earlier qualms regarding Osirian and the Church of the Light.

I shot Rowan a questioning glance and his return look seemed to indicate that we should not kill the beast out of hand.

Sextus had tied the creature in ropes. Inspiration hit me. Doing my best Roget Crow, he is a master at turning tough miners into quivering children, I began asking the creature questions. I turned my face red, struck tough looking postures, and tried to imitate that tone of barely contained murderous rage that Crow uses. The effect was obvious. Cowering, the beast voided itself. The odor had a pungent, not quite digested rat aura to it. For a moment, I sympathized. Days before, standing alone on the crumbling tower of the Emorian fort, watching thousands of torch bearing barbarians bent on mayhem marching towards me, my bowel control had similarly deserted me. I am after all just a mine laborer, not some hero like my ancestors.

"Fine," I said, "we can tie a rope around its neck and let it lead us back out. It can set off any traps its friends may have left for us."

We managed to get our hostage to open the concealed door. The tunnel behind was cramped and would require us to crawl if we wanted to venture down it. Certain we were missing finding a desperately needed treasure horde, I conceded to my friend's advice and did not proceed. Using a spell he never told me he knew, Sextus located another concealed door. Upon opening it, flowing water could be heard but we decided against investigating it in the cramped quarters of the tunnel behind the door.

There was another brief flurry of violence as the kobolds in the tunnel tried to take advantage of Rose's minimal attention span. A few arrows from him and another sleep spell from me succeeded in driving them off.

With our guest up front, we made our way back out of the cave.

Then, putting the beast in the center of our line, we began to make our way back to town. We would allow the town elders to decide the kobold's fate.

As we walked the kobold, who was just behind me, screamed. Crossbow ready I spun around only to see a black blur streaking away from us. With their quicker reflexes, Rose and Rowan launched arrows at the black crow and feathers flew. The cussed bird, stamina enhanced by its bond to its master, managed to remain in the air and fly weakly out of range.

Looking at the kobold's remains I could see the results of a spell mage's call Shocking Grasp. The spell had been delivered with deadly effect by Darkclaw.

Lew, having decided the creature did not knowingly serve the shadow, suggested we bury it.

Grunting, Rose picked up the corpse and flung it into the woods. "Rest in peace," he said.

An uncivilized and barbaric response but it was fine by me. I started back to town.

On the way, we decided to head south to investigate the Gnoll raiders we learned of a few days ago. Also, we will journey to Oar, to research the Cult of Ashai and see if Lew can repair his relationship with his own brother who resides in city's cathedral.

During this conversation, Sextus said, "You know, in Oar they are so rich that there are boards on the street so you don't have to walk in the mud when it rains."

I shook my head, what an imagination he has.

"Yea, right," I responded. Turning my head to Lew I said, "You know, he really does go on some times."

Rose added to the fantasy by suggesting that maybe they also have toilets with running water to clean the debris away. We all laughed.

Back in town, Sextus told me he wanted to train with Kyndalyn, but was short of funds. Used to my brother's amazing ability to make denarii disappear, I gave him the money - exact change only.

While Sextus trained, the rest of us rented a mule and retrieved some of the empty tents the Monrovian's had left at the mine trace. After two trips, the remaining equipment was burned, probably by the surviving kobolds. They wanted us away from their home. Then Rose and I made the three-hour trip from Glyndyn to the Jucadius residence with gifts from my siblings to our petulant sister. Sebrina remained defiant, insisting my rival Orsen Jucadius loves her and will always treat her well, but she accepted the gifts. I had told my sisters to send things that might make Sebrina miss our home. They did a good job apparently because the presents seemed to spark something in Sebrina. I reiterated that she is welcome to come home at any time and returned to town.

There, I pondered my father's coma. The possibility that it was induced by poison was suggested to me. I raged.

Father Thomas, almost dragged to my home, confirmed that indeed my father, Lucius Scipio- renowned for his mining skills and permanently crippled when a shaft collapsed-had been poisoned. The immediate suspect was the trapper Josephus of Bremerton, who provides the narcotic kithroot that I detest to my mother, who then gives it to my father.

Kyndalyn, in his role as town marshal, and Father Thomas agreed that Josephus would be questioned in the morning.

The next morning we gathered in the abbey's infirmary. I had left Rose at my house to protect my family and his infant against possibly reprisals from Josephus if the trapper had learned of our suspicions. Then, picturing the lusty barbarian alone with my sisters, I urged Rowan to stay in my home as well. Rose is a good man, but he is not given to exercising restraint over his many desires. Six Scipio daughters remain in our home. The eldest, twins Luella and Maxima, are sixteen. Luella is steady and shows no interest in anyone not born of the empire. Maxima seems taken with Rowan. Still a brother must be cautious.

Father Thomas first cleansed my father of the poison. With Osirian's blessing his magic succeeded and we are left to see if my father's body can recover and allow him to regain consciousness.

Then, Josephus was questioned. For this part I made sure Sextus, looking buff from his tough training, stood in the doorway to the infirmary. If Josephus bolted, he would have to go through my brother.

As Father Thomas cast his spell, I saw the trapper flinch. At the time the response seemed normal. I myself felt the power of the spell descend on me and knew I would be obliged to truthfully answer any question put to me.

Josephus amazed me by completely denying any involvement in my father's poisoning. His tone was strong and assured. His gaze both angry and steady.

Lew came to me. In my ear he whispered that Rose and Rowan had suggested that perhaps Abrigal, my former fiancee who has been missing for weeks now, poisoned my father. A storm brewed inside me. I almost punched Lew.

Yes, Abrigal's interest in necromancy had caused our relationship to end, but she was not capable of poisoning my father. Lew's words brought to the front of my mind my fear that Abrigal, in her fascination with the dark art, has become involved with the evil woman known to us a "R."

No, not possible. Lew, Rowan, and Rose should keep their dirty thoughts to themselves. They meant well, but they do not know her like I do.

Mind only half present, I made an insincere, but truthfully worded, apology to Josephus. It was not well received. That does not bother me. That flinch he made as the truth spell was cast means something. Somehow, he shook Father Thomas' spell. I am convinced of that.

Feeling embarrassed that my accusations had apparently been proven wrong, I thanked Father Thomas and walked stiffly from the room.

"We are leaving, now," I tersely told my friends.

Returning home, I grabbed my kit. I left Luella in charge of the household and, accompanied by my companions and our newly purchased mule, named Pratto, tried to escape my anger and embarrassment by stalking out of Glyndyn's gates.

~ Quintus Scipio

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold
And we find no succor, in our low rolls.
We forgot to run, thought we were bold
now we will really sink
In Glyndyn's popularity polls.

 

[Old One]

Session 8 (Part One)

When we last left our intrepid band, they had just gotten on the road for the three-week journey to the port city of Oar…the largest settlement left in the Lost Northern Provinces. Their objectives included: Reconciling Lew with his brother Marcus, researching the Cult of Ashai at the cathedral’s library and warning the trading caravan of bandit activity. Armed with a letter of introduction to the Bishop of Oar (penned by Father Thomas) and Pratto, their new mule, off they went!

Session 8 (Part One) – Return of the Table of Elemental Evil

(DM’s Note: Early in the campaign, the players christened our playing surface – a regulation 8’ x 4’ pool table – The Table of Elemental Evil - so named with the help of EN Board member Lela. It was so named because of the combination of atrocious die rolling on the part of the players and stunning successful die rolling on the part of the DM. After two PC deaths in Session 2, the players were convinced the table was cursed - at least for them. Several cleansing rituals later, they seemed to have conquered the table. As fate would have it, the evil construct of wood, slate and felt was only lulling them into a false sense of security! The horror follows…)


The party departed Glynden in all haste. Quintus’ pride still stinging from the failed accusations against Josephus of Bremerton. The sorcerer wanted nothing more than to put time and distance between the troubles in Glynden. The rest of the crew was more circumspect, looking forward to the journey to Oar with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Rumors abounded of the hazards of the journey, but the promise of Oar was inescapable!

The weather was clear and warm – summer had finally arrived in the Northlands.

Toward evening on the second day, they passed the last boundary markers of the Cassuvius estates, the southernmost villa and plunged into the wilderness. The eastern reaches of the Thuringian Wood loomed ahead. Rowan took some time each evening to hunt and succeeded in bringing down several large pheasants and a small doe. Over roasted pheasant and venison, Quintus animatedly discussed the possibility of re-opening one or more of the abandoned mines and outfitting the abandoned legion fort – now named “Fortress Scipio” as a trading post for treating with the barbarians. He seemed determined to find a way to divorce Glynden from its dependence on the provenance of “Boss” Brathwaite’s mining company (and, by extension, Ned Gallway). The rest of the party listened intently, asked numerous questions and agreed to consider the ideas. Visions of a return to fortune for the family Scipio danced about Quintus’ mind as he drifted off to sleep that night.

The first hour of the morning’s march saw the party enter the Thuringian Wood. The forest, although not overly heavy, closed in on either side of them, limiting visibility and forcing them to close up their marching order. About three hours into the march, both Rosë (acting as rear-guard) and Sextus noticed a flash of blue cloth, stirring in the slight breeze, off the trail to the right. Careful inspection revealed a recently deceased older man, clad in the royal blue, burgundy and gold of Castellan Cassuvius. Quintus recognized him as a steward of the family – his cloak marked with the stylized lion head that was their symbol.

The cause of death was a gaping wound, from collarbone to navel, caused by a bladed weapon. The man had been stripped of valuables and had either crawled or been drug to the location before expiring. After several false starts, Rowan was able to backtrack along the man’s path. After traveling for several bowshots, the ranger made a gruesome discovery. The trail ended in a beautiful glade, complete with a picturesque waterfall, moss covered stones and pool of sparkling water. A gently flowing stream fed the pool and a small cart track paralleled the stream.

Unfortunately, the beauty of the place was marred by another corpse floating face down in the center of the pool and an ornate carriage, tipped onto one side, on the end of the cart track. A chestnut colored gelding lay dead in the traces and another body, head split from crown to jawbone, was slumped against the underside of the carriage, broken spear in his hand. The remains of several wicker baskets and ruined foodstuffs were scattered about. ‘A picnic?’ The ranger thought to himself. In the moss by the pool, Rowan found a clear print. Adrenaline surged through his body at the unmistakable sign…gnolls!

(DM’s Note: Rowan’s first favored enemy is gnolls!)

Backing away cautiously, Rowan quickly retrieved his companions and led them to the site. Searching the area, the band quickly determined that some type of attack or ambush had occurred, that the carriage probably held several other people that were unaccounted for and that the raiders had escaped to the west with the other trace horse and at least one captive. Rowan thought that 4-6 gnolls had been in the raiding party. Sextus and Quintus recognized the other two dead men as grooms of the Cassuvius household and determined that the carriage was the personal conveyance of family. They had also been stripped of all valuables and both haunches of the dead horse had been cut away – much as a butcher would prepare a sheep.

A quick discussion ensued over whether they should detour from their course of action to attempt a rescue. Quintus was concerned that by chasing after one or two hostages, they could be exposing an entire trading caravan (and the lifeblood of Glynden) to harm. Sextus countered that the Swords of Glydnen were already enroute to warn the caravan, whereas the hapless captive(s) had no one they could rely on. After a quick vote, they decided to follow the trail of the raiders. An hour later, Rowan (in the lead as usual) called a halt as he caught the scent of roasting meat and heard the hated barking of gnolls yapping at each other.

The party went to ground as Rowan scouted ahead. The ranger took his time, moving carefully through the woods and even climbing a tree to get a better vantage point. He discovered the remains of a ruined villa, a crude thatched roof hut, rickety two-story barn and a paddock-like enclosure made of wood. Seven or eight paces from the barn was a haphazard stack of crates and beyond that, at right angles, was a tall hedgerow. Several other boxes and crates were stacked inside the paddock area, as were several bales of hay. Woodsmoke drifted skyward from the stone chimney of the hut and Rowan observed about half-a-dozen gnolls, well armed and armored moving about the compound – mainly between the hut and the barn-like structure.

Several also entered the tumbled walls of the villa on one occasion. The ranger also observed a slender man emerge from the hut, issue instructions to several gnolls and then disappear back into the hut. All of the gnolls and the human wore crimson cloaks with black trim. Even after several hours of observation, Rowan did not see any sign of hostages, but felt that they were probably in the barn.

He returned to the group and sketched the area out in the dirt. They decided to attack before dark, since the gnolls ability to see at night would put the party at a disadvantage. They also decided to use the walls of the ruined villa to mask their approach and use a combination of Quintus’ potent Sleep spell and one of Lew’s new miracles, Silence, to incapacitate as many opponents as possible. They divested themselves of everything but weapons and armor, Sextus fortified his brother with Mage Armor and they crept forward into position,. They reached the ruins of the villa without incidence and readied weapons and spells. From their new vantage point, they saw a small pond between the villa and the hut. In addition, the walls of the paddock, although flimsy-looking, were about two paces high – providing partial cover for anyone moving between the hut and the barn. They heard some low voices and saw a gnoll and the human walking from the barn to the hut. Quintus gathered his will and quietly cast Sleep on the duo. Both of them stopped for a moment, shook their heads and looked around suspiciously, hands dropping to weapons – both had resisted! Quintus rapidly cast the spell again, while the others opened up with a volley of missile fire. Unfortunately, the paddock wall prevented most of the bolts and arrows from striking true, although the gnoll slumped to the ground in magical slumber. The human yelled, “Atta…!” right before Lew’s magical silence dropped into place around him and he dropped to the ground before leaping toward the hut, slamming into the door and falling inside, followed by several errant missiles. As he exited the area of magical silence, the party heard, “Attack – we are under attack!”

(DM’s Note: They say no plan survives contact with the enemy and truer words have never been spoken. The party’s initial plan was not bad, but they only scouted about half the battlefield before committing to an attack. The numerous walls of the villa, the paddock, the stacked crates and the pond really compartmentalized the battle area and made movement difficult from area to area. It also gave very good cover (50% +) to most combatants from missile fire. In addition, I rolled incredibly well for saves against Quintus’ spells. The DC for his Sleep spell is 14 and my first 4 saving rolls were 20, 16, 19 and 12! This got the party off to a very bad start!)

Shouts, curses and growling issued from both the barn and the hut. Quintus zeroed in on the open door of the hut and let fly with another Sleep spell – he was rewarded by the sound of falling bodies. Two gnolls emerged from the barn and ducked down behind the stack of crates. Sextus and Rowan fired at them ineffectually, Rosë broke cover and raced to the corner of the hut so he could fire into the paddock and then Lew called the blessing of Osirian down onto his companions, which fortified everyone but Rosë.

Everyone heard a stream of invective issuing from the hut, along with the sound of scuffling and shouts in heavily accented Tradespeak, “Get up, damn you…get up and get moving!”

Two more gnolls exited the barn, jumped over the paddock fence and ran around behind the structure. Rowan managed to put an arrow into the backside of one as it topped the fence, but it kept moving. Sextus raised his vibrant baritone voice in song and all felt their spirits raise and their arms strengthen. Two humans, identically clad, tumbled from the door of the hut to crouch behind the paddock wall, followed by another gnoll. Presented with another grouping, Quintus called upon once again upon his Sleep spell. The gnoll slumped to the ground, but the humans remained unaffected. Rosë, suspecting foul magic, looked closely at the identical looking pair and then launched an arrow at one. The barbarian’s aim was off, but one of the pair pointed towards him with a short sword…there were two of them!

Sextus and Lew traded missile fire with the gnolls behind the crates while Rowan moved to the back of the ruined villa to intercept the gnolls that had disappeared around the barn, rightly guessing that they were going to attempt to attack the party from behind. Above all the commotion, Sextus heard some faint, feminine cries for help coming from behind the crates.

In perfect unison, the slender humans, bearing short swords, rushed towards Rosë, who was still armed with his bow. One tumbled past him and sprang to his feet behind the barbarian. The other dropped low and struck hard, catching the surprised barbarian with a painful blow. Roaring in pain, Rosë flung his bow to the ground, unslung his great axe and swung wildly. His opponent ducked under the blow and the axe tore a huge chunk of wood from the wall of the hut. His ears filled with the derisive laughter of the two slight humans. Another gnoll emerged from the hut, paused to shake one of his sleeping fellows awake, then disappeared around the back of the hut, moving to flank the already flanked Rosë. Seeing that Rosë was hard pressed, Lew called upon Osirian to provide a celestial ally and the Lord of Light responded by sending a large dog, surrounded by a nimbus of blue-white light, to aid his servant. Lew directed the canine to move towards Rosë and attack anything with a red cloak.

Sextus, alerted by the cries, clambered over the wall and raced towards the crates, singing all the while. Rowan heard the sound of the two flanking gnolls approaching and prepared to ambush them. The newly awakened gnoll vaulted over the paddock fence and charged towards Lew and Quintus. Lew sighted down his crossbow and sent a bolt into the charging gnoll. The creature stumbled, but continued forward. Quintus dropped his crossbow, called upon his power to Shield himself and readied his short spear…unbloodied up to that point.

Meanwhile, Rosë was having difficulty. The tactics of the two humans completely confused the enraged barbarian – they feinted and alternated attacks like a pair of wolves. Soon, Rosë was bleeding from several serious wounds. His return strikes although driven by his powerful rage, lacked focus and his opponents kept dancing away from his blows.

(DM’s Note: As we shall see…this is where things went really bad, really fast. The group had broken up into four different units. Lew and Quintus held the middle, but their missile fire was not very effective due to the level of cover their opponents had. Sextus had moved forward of the battle line to the line of crates. Two gnolls were on the other side. Rowan had moved to the back of the ruined villa to intercept two gnolls moving in from the rear and Rosë was in a very bad spot. He was flanked by two rogues, had another gnoll moving towards him and the ONLY thing he could hit was the broadside of the hut! I think he needed a “9” to hit and his rolls, in order, were 8, 4, 2, 3 and 5 before he was dropped by a punishing series of sneak attacks, including one critical…ouch!)

Things deteriorated rapidly.

Sextus attempted to push the crates over on the gnolls taking cover behind the barrier. Try has he might, the diminutive bard could not budge the crates. Despairing, he drew his short sword and jumped atop the crates. Looking down, he saw two surprised gnolls, who quickly dropped their bows and readied battle axes and large shields. Between the crates and the barn were two pits dug into the ground. From his spot atop the crates, Sextus saw three young women, clad in dirty finery, huddled in the bottom, looking up with tear-stained faces. Their cries for help redoubled when they saw him. They looked terribly familiar, but he could spare no time to ponder their identity as the gnolls leaped forward, growling and swinging their axes.

Lew’s celestial hound arrived at the back of one of the beleaguered Rosë’s opponents and delivered a vicious bite to the human’s backside. Holy power surged through the canine’s jaws and the man cried out in pain. He tumbled away from the barbarian and the dog, avoiding blade and bite and fumbled at his belt pouch. He secured a potion and quaffed it quickly. The gnoll that had gone around the back of the hut moved to cut-off the dog. Even with the momentary respite, Rosë was unable to land a blow and received another wound for his troubles.

Lew fired at the approaching gnoll again and missed while Quintus prepared to engage with his spear. The creature jumped atop their defensive wall and swung at Quintus. The combined protective magics of the sorcerer turned the axe blow aside. Rowan succeeded in felling one of the gnolls he faced, but the other struck the ranger a serious blow as he withdrew. Sextus traded blows with the gnolls and was badly wounded. He saw another gnoll – a huge brute with a scar across his snout – dash from the doorway of the hut. The gnoll had a massive two-handed axe strapped across his back and bore a heavy, curved dagger in its paw. A rumbling growl issued from its throat as it ran toward the bard. Casting a sorrowful look towards the terrified young women, the badly wounded Sextus jumped off the crates and retreated to the end of the hedgerow.

The celestial hound and gnoll traded attacks, each slightly wounding the other, while the other human moved back into position to flank Rosë. The rapidly weakening barbarian made one last, desperate attack before the mirrored short swords took him high and low. The Brigante dropped to the ground in a bloody heap. Quintus and Lew backed up as the gnoll facing them pushed forward. Lew ducked an axe blow, stepped back and fired, missing badly. While the gnoll’s attention was on Lew, Quintus stepped forward and plunged his spear into the creature’s upper leg. Bright red arterial blood spurted as the dogman collapsed in a heap. Their momentary relief was quickly quashed as Lew’s divine dog shimmered and winked out of existence…both human swordsmen and the gnoll beside them charged toward the pair, bloody weapons waving.

Quintus yelled for Lew to get out of there, but the cleric either didn’t hear or chose not to listen. Rowan charged forward and hacked at the remaining gnoll from the pair he was facing. His blow went wide, but the creature’s return blow staggered the ranger and left him reeling. The strains of Sextus’ song ended as the bard chanted healing words and directed his power inward. Fortunately, the magic fortitude produced by his tune lingered for half–a-turn of the minute glass!

A gravely voice, rose above the fray in heavily accented Tradespeak, “You stop! You stop now or I kill girlz! I warn you!”

Quintus jumped up on one of the villa walls as the humans and gnoll arrived. Quintus was still yelling for Lew to leave, but the cleric stood his ground. Beyond Lew, the badly wounded Rowan finished his opponent with a thrust of his blade. He heard Quintus’ continuous calls for retreat and dashed into the woods, diving into a thicket. He looked around for his friends, but no one followed…they were cut-off!

The gravely voice raised again, “Stupidz! I warn you!”

A high-pitched cry of pain and terror rose above the sounds of battle and was abruptly silenced! Sextus ran forward, retrieved his crossbow and remounted the pile of crates. Below him, he saw scar-nose pulling his bloody dagger from the throat of one of the women. As her auburn hair fell away from her face and her head dangled at an unnatural angle, he realized that it was Carmilla Cassuvius, one of the daughters of the wealthy landholder. To his horror, he realized that the other two girls in the pit were the other two children of the magnate.

The scar-nosed gnoll growled again, “Drop weaponz…give up now or I kill more!”

The bard froze for a moment. A dozen different courses of actions swam through his head. Everything seemed to slow for a moment, then scar-nose barked a command and the other two gnolls dipped their arms into the pit and grasped another screaming girl. Sneering evilly and never taking his eyes from Sextus, the gnoll drew back his arm with the bloody blade. Screaming incoherently, Sextus raised his crossbow, but he knew in his heart he was going to be too late…

To Be Continued…

Next: Session 8 (Part Two) - The Blood of Innocents

Old One

 

[Old One]

Session 8 (Part Two)

The Blood of Innocents

Sextus fired, striking scar-nose a solid blow. The creature shrugged off the wound and drove his curved dagger through another fair throat. As the bloodied form dropped to the ground, the gnoll barked a command and one of the gnolls released the now limp arm and bent to retrieve axe and shield. The other knelt down to retrieve the third - and final - daughter of Calian Cassuvius.

Quintus, unable to see Sextus (and no longer hearing his singing), knowing that Rosë was down and aware of the enemies bearing down on them, was growing desperate. “Run!” he screamed at Lew. This time, the cleric complied, dashing from their ertstwhile “fortress” that was rapidly taking on the aspects of a tomb. Quintus turned to follow only to be stopped by a blood-spattered gnoll. Quintus called upon what little magic he had left to momentarily Daze the creature and slip past. Still looking for Sextus, Quintus clambered atop another wall. He sighted Sextus a spear’s throw away, standing atop the pile of crates, furiously reloading his crossbow. “Sextus! Run…the others are gone!”

If he heard, the bard paid his brother no heed.

Lew crashed into the edge of the woods. He was 3 or 4 paces beyond the tree line when he spotted Rowan, bleeding from several wounds, crouched behind a large bush. Calling upon one of his few remaining miracles, he called upon Osirian to Aid his friend. Temporarily fortified, Rowan readied his blade and prepared to charge forth. The ranger and the cleric broke cover, running for the two human swordsmen that nimbly danced forward to flank Quintus and the gnoll who was coming out from under the effects of the sorcerer’s spell.

Quintus desperately tried to fend off the attacks, but first one blade, and then another, slipped past his magical defense and bit deep. He responded weakly, grazing one of the humans. They grinned in unison and continued their attacks.

Atop the crates, Sextus grimly reloaded. One of the gnolls was bearing down on him, already bloodied axe raised high. The other gnoll warrior had pulled the last girl from the pit and pinioned her arms behind her back. Scar-nose growled again and moved toward the girl. “Throw down weaponz…she live!”

The huge brute emphasized his point by shaking blood from the end of the dagger.

The girl - Sextus thought her name was Drusilla - struggled like a wild thing, throwing her body back and forth and kicking her captor in the shins. The gnoll merely grunted and tightened his grip. Summoning bravado that rang hollow in his own ears, Sextus replied, “Drop YOUR weapons and we will let you live!”

Scar-nose lunged forward and Sextus fired. The gnoll howled in fury as the bolt slammed into his torso. He staggered a little, but his dagger strike was true. Drusilla tried to yank her head away at the last second, but blood sprayed once again and the captor gnoll contemptuously threw her aside. The body tumbled against the base of the hedgerow and lay still. Sextus screamed in fury and then in pain as the remaining gnoll warrior’s blade bit deep. Terribly wounded and barely standing, the heart-broken bard jumped off the crates and began to retreat once more.

Rowan and Lew hit the tangle of bodies surrounding Quintus. The ranger’s blade bit deeply into one of the human swordsmen, who pitched to the ground with a grunt. Lew jumped through the gap opened by Rowan and sprinted towards the spot where Rosë lay. The remaining human swordsman, seeing his companion fall, let out a strangled cry, disengaged from Quintus and wove his way through the fray towards the slumped form. Quintus, free from everyone but the gnoll, issued a desperate mental command to his magical Shield, trying to interpose the barrier between himself and the mangy creature. The gnoll’s axe blade arrived a heartbeat ahead, however, and the sorcerer slumped to the ground, blood spurting from a terrible wound.

Sextus hit the ground and looked up to see his brother fall in a heap. “N-n-n-o-o-o-o!” echoed across the battlefield and the bard summoned what little strength he had left and rushed towards the spot where Quintus lay, his life slowly leaking out. The remaining human swordsman ignored Rowan, instead stooping low to scoop up his mate, sling him over is shoulder and withdraw several paces. Amazed, the ranger counted his good fortune and prepared to cross blades with the gnoll. Both combatants hacked at each other with abandon then fell back – both had scored serious hits. The gnolls blow had stripped Rowan of the magical fortification supplied by Osirian (and then some).

Lew reached the prone Rosë. The barbarian looked as if he had been almost hacked to pieces. Without pausing to asses his condition further, Lew called upon a healing orison to stem the bleeding then grasped the huge warrior under the arms and started dragging him towards the wood line, about 10 paces distant.

Rowan knew he could not take another axe blow so, for the second time that day, he retreated from his hated enemies. The gnoll made to follow, but was distracted by Sextus as the badly wounded bard clambered over a villa wall, shouting and waving his gladius. The creature’s momentary hesitation was the opening ranger needed. He dropped his blade, whipped out his short bow and put an arrow through the gnoll’s left eye. Sextus reached Quintus just as the beast fell. He did not slow down. He grabbed the still sorcerer by his bloody tunic and lurched towards Rowan and the cover of the woods. The human swordsman glanced up briefly as he fumbled in his prone companion’s pouch and retrieved a crystal vial, then returned to his work, ignoring the retreating party members.

Lew reached the cover of the trees, dropped to his knees and poured orison after orison into Rosë until he saw his friend’s eyelids flutter. The barbarian’s eyes floated open and he tried to focus in on Lew. In the distance, he could hear shouting and he slowly patted his hands over his own body. He looked up at the cleric and croaked, “Where’s my axe?”

Sextus and Rowan pulled Quintus’ limp form into a thicket and the ranger desperately began working of the sorcerer’s severe wounds. His mind raced as he tried to recall all of the steps Lew had shown him several weeks before.

(DM’s Note: Rowan took a rank of healing upon reaching 2nd level.)

After several unsuccessful attempts, Rowan (with Sextus’ assistance), succeeded and the flow of Scipio blood slowed to a trickle. Quintus was alive, but only just! Rowan and Sextus heard shouts and growls from the compound, but no pursuit was immediately forthcoming, so they carefully pulled further back into the thicket. In the distance, a deep peal of thunder rolled. Rowan cast a quick glance skyward…it was going to rain!

(DM’s Note: I will be blunt…they are up the creek without a paddle! Rosë has 1 HP, Quintus is in low negative numbers, Rowan and Sextus have about 4 HPs between them and only Lew is relatively untouched, but almost out of miracles. Lew and Rosë are on one side of the compound and Rowan, Sextus and the unconscious Quintus are on the other. The two groups have no real idea where the other is and many of their weapons (Rosë’s bow and axe, Quintus’ crossbow and spear and perhaps more) lay abandoned on the field. Between them, an undetermined number of bandits remain and it looks like the hostages are all dead. Just to add insult to injury…it is going to rain! Things look bleak for the home team - will they survive?)

To Be Continued…

Next: Session 9 (Part One) - A Brief Respite...Or is it?

Old One