Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Company of Chaos - All Around Golarion
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Lwaxy" data-source="post: 5960980" data-attributes="member: 53286"><p>Zaza's diary, 9th of Abadius, a few days after the described events. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>We went down to the next level after a fitful rest. I thought I had gotten over my worries from yesterday, at least I tried to convince myself that I had. But this level was something else. It was like the air was thick with evil, as if we were breathing it in. To do anything at all was a much harder task than a few steps up. Except Edawon and the bard, we were all thinking of going back and find someone better than us to take care of it. </p><p></p><p>We were now in a bell-shaped foyer that opened into a broad rectangular chamber with wickedly spiked walls. The rectangular section recessed into the floor almost five feet below the foyer, creating a tiered section of ledges adorned with rows of statues. In the center of the room, a three-foot-tall iron furnace stoodds atop a marble dais belching out gouts of toxic-looking smoke. A moat filled with a curious bubbling liquid surrounded the smoky brazier. </p><p></p><p>Me and Majek went to disable the furnace – Majek because he's almost completely immune to toxic smoke thanks to a spell from a long while back, me because I'd just good with disabling or enabling devices. It sure paid to hang out with gnomes a lot. </p><p></p><p>So far, so good. We checked out the south exit of the room but after we heard some strange noises and smelled a lot of candles – or so it appeared to me anyway – we decided to go west instead. We had to walk through a puddle at an intersection were we could have gone south again, but we decided to stick with west for now. Edawon says it is not good to keep changing your direction in an unknown complex and I guess he's right with that. </p><p></p><p>By the time we entered the next room, we felt a bit paranoid thanks to the atmosphere. Majek was sure we were watched, Kronk was at one point sure someone was even following us. None of that was true, it seems, but were were all very nervous. Ready to jump at shadows, as Mook's mom used to say. I wish Mook had been around, I'd felt less confused. </p><p></p><p>Well, this next room – with no other exit so we had to go back later – held the strangest thing. In the center of a maybe thirty-foot-diameter antechamber was a large green transparent crystal. Large iron chains extended from the crystal into the ceiling, holding it a few feet above the floor. Within the crystal was a heavily tattooed man we quickly identified as a priest of Pharasma, dressed in a hooded robe of archaic style. A piece of the crystal was broken off, exposing the man’s hand, and tiny fragments of the broken crystal were scattered about the floor. </p><p></p><p>At first we thought the man had been caught in a trap, but then we felt a presence in our mind talking to us. The man was actually alive, and immortal, too. He identified himself as the Hanging Seer. No name, if you ask me, but maybe he had forgotten his name and part of his other faculties in the long solitude. Because a mind can just not stay sane in this. Because, well, he had been down here for a very long time, guarding a Seal of sorts, one of many to keep the Whispering Tyrant in. Still I cannot wrap my mind around us finding trouble connected to the Whispering Tyrant! Having been at the isle where Aroden killed him had been a big thing already, but this?</p><p></p><p>In any case, he was desperate. Some necromancer calling himself Drazmorg, an undead with no lower body, broke in here and stole all of the priest's powers and then broke the seal, a fact the Whispering Tyrant, who seems to not want to stop existing, is aware of it and might use the fool necromancer to break the others, too. What was worse for us was that the seer said he was also possessed by an undead spirit Drazmorg bestowed on him to keep him under watch. Which meant, of course, that we weren't so paranoid now to think we had been noticed. </p><p> </p><p>We had just come to that conclusion when the seer twisted and grimaced, and something came out of his mouth. I have later been told it was a wraith of sorts, because I fainted. Edawon tells me that is because the thing went for me first and actually touched me, but I do not remember this. I feel weak and shaky, but I was assured it would pass over time. It did not make me any more confident then, and even now I am wondering what we were doing. We aren't up to deal with such things. At least not without the dwarf. I wonder where they are now?</p><p></p><p>If anyone else but me ever reads this, you must think I'm constantly whining over very little, but then, I am the one going through all this. So better not shake your head at me. I am the one in my shoes, and I'm just a young girl out in a world I underestimated. Maybe I'll laugh at those lines later myself, but I doubt it.</p><p></p><p>Majek seemed to be so strong in all this. When we managed to rouse the seer again, who had fallen unconscious, he was the one who promised we'd seal the caverns, as he had brought a lot of explosives just in case. And it was him and Krell who went to do just that, as we went back to the southward tunnels as the seer directed. The tunnel they collapsed led to a storage vault of undead of different kind, but they couldn't come out fast enough. Imagine a necromancer with so many undead to just store them somewhere in case you needed them! </p><p></p><p>Sure that the explosion must have caused Drazmorg to have noticed us, we waited. But either he was too busy with whatever he was on to notice, or too confident to succeed. All that happened was that the door the southern passage ended in opened and out came a mummy of some sorts, which strangely enough had what looked like new armor. There were so many flies around it that it was hard to see though, and the buzzing of them made me very irritated. Krell, Majek and Kronk took it on. After they hit it a few times, the flies died, which was a strange sight, all of them dropping down from one second to the next. </p><p></p><p>The thing didn't smell any better once it was down, and I had to vomit again. Curse my weak stomach, I need to find a way around that. </p><p></p><p>We went into the chamber the thing came out from. It had curved walls on the north side and square corners on the south. On either side were two copper braziers partially filled with a sour-scented oil doing little to mask the nauseating scent of rotting flesh that seemed to seep from the shale stone walls. We left the outter door open so the scent would dissipate eventually. Nothing else was in there except another door to the south, which opened easily. </p><p></p><p>Beyond the doors stretched an about 25-foot-long hallway. On either side, iron sconces lined the walls set five feet apart. The candles in the sconces were unlit, though wax droplets beneath them seemed to indicate they were recently extinguished. Centered on the far wall rested a five-foot-circumference stone plug, slightly recessed into the masonry. A pair of crossed iron bars mounted onto the western wall near the plug’s face formed a handle. Spiraling runes carved into the plug read “DEATH” in at least a dozen different languages. </p><p></p><p>This, at least, is where all sensible people would run, but as I have been told as a small child already, adventurers aren't sensible people, even if they do not qualify as heroes. So I went over to look at the handle and the plug, and found out how to turn it to open the thing. Of course, it needed a lot more strength to open than I had, especially after being weakened. We got it open of course, and passed through. Majek said he would probably collapse the tunnels behind it, but we were in for yet another surprise. </p><p></p><p>The doorway bisected a huge curved passage. Its carved cylindrical walls had thousands of Hallit runes and sigils. Galesong readily identified them. But that was not the strange part. The strange part was that there was no gravity. We started floating up, and some unseen force pulled us in a counter-clockwise drift. We could resist this, but moving against it would have been difficult so we didn't. chances were we'd end up in the same place anyway, with the passage being curved and all.</p><p></p><p>My stomach liked the loss of gravity even less than the stench before but I had nothing left to vomit out, lucky for all of us that was. </p><p></p><p>There were some orbs in the passage, made of some sort of crystal and carved with runes. All of us knew this could not be a good thing when we saw them so we kept our distance. As they floated at the same speed than we moved, this wasn't too difficult. Kronk, Ed, me and Galesong could grab the carved walls to maneuver, Majek and Krell were too heavy to hold on to the walls long though. </p><p></p><p>The ghouls that appeared to stop us were unable to maneuver. When the first came close to a sphere, it suddenly zoned in on it, pushed it out of the way and exploded with a strange, high pitched sound which, although almost not audible, made my head hurt. Majek did away with that ghoul with some luck in maneuvering after that, as it appeared almost done for anyway. The floating around ghoul parts were very hard to avoid, though. </p><p></p><p>Krell found this incredibly funny, and with what seemed to be a lot of enjoyment he directed the other spheres we encountered at the ghouls. We just stayed ahead of those abominations and went around the whole circle twice before they were done for, passing a door opposite the one we had entered through in the process. Later Krell explained about the game called ghoul ball they had played at his magic academy. Except for the lack of gravity, the description came close enough to what he had done here. </p><p></p><p>The door on the opposite had the same kind of plug but it was harder to open because of the weightlessness. Th good thing was that once inside yet another longish corridor, we were all back on our feet again. Now it was all the way back to the opposite side again, where we found yet another plug entrance. </p><p></p><p>Majek was about to prepare his explosives here when we heard a muffled. We couldn't make out the words, but for some reason, Krell was drawn by them and started to open the plug. Before we could stop him, the darn thing opened and exposed us to a sight I could have once more done without.</p><p></p><p>The opening led into a rotunda formed from tremendous limestone blocks. A ten-foot-tall dais rose from the center of the room, supporting a concentric mini ziggurat of layered, rune-covered gear. Even those of us with no magic could feel the supernatural energy pulsing from the thing.</p><p></p><p>On either side of the dais, a half-flight of stairs ascended from the floor to the largest gear. Colored chalk streaked the walls, floor, and ceiling with arcane symbols and patterns, and sickly-scented oils burned from careful placed braziers made from human skulls. Scattered throughout the room flopped the decaying parts of dozens of battered undead corpses, all bearing bloodless gashes and sundered limbs These flopped and undulated unnaturally, scattered like fish in a net.</p><p></p><p>Above the strange seal hovered a horrifically decomposed humanoid. The lower half of his body was gone, leaving only guts and his dangling spine encased in a weird, glass-like receptacle filled with sickly-colored fluids bolted into his chest. Tubes made from intestines and other compounds rose from the fluids attaching to his face, neck, and arms. He preached loudly, bellowing obscene liturgies from a strange book to a worshipful audience of rotting corpses. Dark energies seeped from the ziggurat, caressing the surrounding undead.</p><p></p><p>I counted 8 of those gears and wondered if they could be fixed to close the seal again, although I had no idea how it had been opened in the first place. I barely noticed the dreadful thing ordering his undead to attack, or Krell being drawn by the device the same way I was. Maybe my mind tried to block out everything else to be able to deal with it. </p><p></p><p>The mechanism was, in essence a combination lock. You could turn the cogs separately in any direction. That was good and bad at the same time, good because it meant the seal was likely still functional, and bad because we could not easily know what the combination had to be set to to close the evil energies back in. </p><p></p><p>Krell turned to throw a spell at the advancing ghast and ghouls, and I heard Galesong starting up a song to aid us. I don't remember the details, but it was a funny song about undead stumbling through a dungeon. </p><p></p><p>I could see where the gears had been moved. But it looked as if all of them had changed position, so again I couldn't do anything with that. But as Krell cursed next to me for discovering the same, I had an idea. "The shadow world looks like a parody of ours, didn't you say that? A darker version with different life – or unlife – forms?"</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, why?" Again, he fired a spell, but I barely noticed the heat from it. </p><p></p><p>"What happens if something gets changed in either world?"</p><p></p><p>"In the shadow world, it will reset itself to however it is here. If something is changed here, the shadow world will adapt eventually." Somewhere, like through a veil, I heard Edawon shout out a warning, and then Majek let out a cry. </p><p></p><p>"So, how long to adapt? Would the shadow world still have the gears in the original position?" </p><p></p><p>Krell's eyes went wide, and a moment later, he disappeared into the shadow. Galesong's voice got louder, as if he was desperate, and then there was a small explosion and the stink of burned undead flesh. I zoned out even more, because if we could not close this we would probably all be dead anyway. </p><p></p><p>Krell suddenly appeared again and pointed at the gears. "We need to move them not only to specific positions, but in a specific order. It keeps happening over and over in the shadow world but it hasn't stabilized there yet."</p><p></p><p>One day, I think, i want to see this shadow world myself. For now, I was just glad my idea worked. The necromancer had floated off the gears and to where the battle was. I think he hadn't even noticed us in doing so, which was just perfect. Krell gave directions, and we started moving the gears. At first, we still didn't get noticed, but then, Drazmorg let out an eerie cry and turned his cursed attention on us. </p><p></p><p>However, we were almost done and the magic missile attack that hit Krell didn't seem to do much damage to him at first sight. He was probably still half in the shadow world to be able to see the gears there – something that took a lot of energy, he had once said, but it also protected him somewhat from injuries on either side. </p><p></p><p>The gears turned back into place, and all of a sudden, the terrible oppression of the negative energy was all gone. It now felt like a normal, dangerous, almost suicidal dungeon exploration. Drazmorg's screeching stopped, and then there was another explosion, closer this time. I ducked out of the way as the contraption which had been the down half of the necromancer flew right at me. Majek let out a triumphant shout just before I saw him faint from a wound in his chest. Everything else was unclear until I came to my senses again in the room of the Hanging Seer.</p><p></p><p>The seer had used his powers, which were now back, to heal the wounded and disease infected among us, which´meant everyone. Majek and Kronk had been especially bad off. He could not do anything about my weakness, but also assured me it would pass. He had not expected for us to be able to destroy the necromancer, and even less to close the seal again. And he made a prophecy about us and our many friends being the destined ones, chosen to restore the world in many ways, and not always being appreciated for it. Something along those lines. I saw Kronk nodding in my direction and heard him mumble something about the thief of thieves. Majek's reaction was more like mine: "We don't need that." </p><p></p><p>But then, doesn't this mean that we, me included, will really be heroes? Maybe I need to stop worrying. </p><p></p><p>As I write this, we are finally back in Falcon's Hollow. There are still undead stragglers but they are taken care off one by one. The tunnels to the seal are all collapsed now, so we should be safe. For a while. Such things tend to come back to haunt the world. </p><p></p><p>We are preparing to leave here with the children we had rescued and some of their family. Edawon, Majek and Krell all agreed it would not do to wait to spring. In a few weeks, with some luck, the snow will have lessened enough. Our only worry is how the others will find us now, but from what Kronk says his people's prophets said, we will find the others in Absalom, of all places. We'll see soon enough. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Dwarfed by the bluffs behind and to either side, a dozen pathetic wooden buildings huddled along the shore within a small protective curve of the rocky coastline. Three imposing islands faced the settlement through the fog. The largest, a nearly cubic block of stone, squatted in the water like some stubborn beast. The second island sent columns of foam arcing high into the air with each breaker impacting its far side, focusing the onrushing wave into a vertical channel, and a sizzle echoed across the cove as the spray returns to the sea. The last and smallest island was remarkable only for its silhouette: two pointed boulders near its crest give it the look of a horned animal head.</p><p></p><p>"So, this is Chimera Cove," Bjön said, shivering slightly. The weather down here was warmer than in the mountains, of course, and there was little to no snow at the coast. However, the rain was icy cold, and water had a tendency to go deeper into clothes than snow, which could be shaken off. </p><p></p><p>"It's not much," Teltz stated. "I wonder what anyone could find here that would be of any importance." He huddled into his dark blue coat as if he wanted to vanish into it completely. </p><p></p><p>For all her being used to a much warmer climate, Pojali didn't seem to feel the cold. "Looks can be very deceiving.And we're being followed."</p><p></p><p>"What?" It was all Bjön could do not to turn around. "Any idea who and how many?"</p><p></p><p>The priestess concentrated for a moment, eyes half closed. "Just one, and a large one. Smells like bear, somehow, but then different."</p><p></p><p>Before the others could make something out of this confusing statement, a deep, grumbling voice spoke up from behind a boulder as the owner of it came into view. "That would be me. I need to talk to you before you go down there. I'm Targas, and as you can probably guess, a werebear."</p><p></p><p>Light brown fur covered a massive bear form, clad in basic leather armor and wielding a really really big axe. Targas' eyes looked friendly, but worried, and Bjön put the axe away he had drawn on instinct. "He's not evil."</p><p></p><p>"My apologies for not showing up in human form," Targas said and pointed at the sturdy but fast horses the party had been given back in the mountains. "I can't keep up with those as a human. In any case, Chimera Cove is in trouble, has been for a while, and I need help to solve the problem."</p><p></p><p>"Very direct," Pojali smiled and got off the horse. "Do you have a place nearby where we could talk?"</p><p></p><p>Not too long later, they were sitting in a comfortable cave around an even more comfortable fire, drying their things and drinking herbal tea while listening to the werebear's story. Part of it seemed like a fairy tale, one of those that almost always had a solid foundation in truth. A long time ago, the village had been founded to protect a dark secret. Recently, however, a man named Poltur, grandson of the village's founder, decided to betray the cove's secret to the now deceased Baron Vendikon, having gotten tired of sitting on a barren shore. The baron had sent some troops but it ended in disaster with Poltur barely surviving. It took a while to find out what was really needed to succeed, which is why he had sent the map the party now had and some requirements along with it. And what was worse, the village was now occupied.</p><p></p><p>"By whom?" the priestess asked, getting herself more tea. "The baron hasn't sent anyone, he's dead."</p><p></p><p>"The traitor returned with a score of hobgoblin soldiers, the village was completely unprepared. He rounded up everyone, and his hobgoblins are still holding them in the boathouse. I think that they’re still alive, but they must be nearly starving at this point.”</p><p></p><p>"A bad situation. Couldn't you try and get them out?" Bjön started fumbling with his holy symbol. </p><p></p><p>"Poltur left six hobgoblins behind when he sailed off to the islands. Two of them thought they would make a patrol of the village one night, looting whatever they chose, and I killed them. Now there are four. But four is still too many for me, when the villagers are within their reach.”</p><p></p><p>"Good point, but how come they didn't get you in the first place?" the bard wanted to know. </p><p></p><p>The werebear, now in his human form and changed into winter robes, looked sad now. "I… am not exactly a member of the village anymore. I made the mistake of telling Poltur of my… family’s secret. I should have known better, even then. Poltur killed a woman and made it appear as if I were the one responsible, and the elders believed I was guilty. I have lived as an exile since then, and pieced together the truth through years of watching, but I have not returned to the village. I think many of them know I’m here, and that the woman’s death was not my doing.” He looked at the paladin. "He wants the islands’ secret. There can be no doubt. I tell you this because the village has failed in its mission to watch over the islands and what they hold, and you may be the last remaining hope. The village elders tell each of us, when we reach our 13th summer, that the islands hold something dark and dangerous, and that it is our duty to watch over them and make sure the evil remains undisturbed. They likely know more. Poltur, as the grandson of the village’s founder, probably knows more as well. That secret is undoubtedly what he seeks, but I have told you all I can offer of it. Poltur, while completely reprehensible, unfortunately is also quite a swordsman. Do not duel with him. He will kill you.”</p><p></p><p>"We are here to take care of it, one way or the other," Bjön said for all of them. "Now, how fast can you change shape? I have an idea..."</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>From behind a shallow ridge close to the shore, the group was watching the boathouse. This long and narrow building, easily the largest in the modest village, stretched sixty feet long and twenty-five feet wide. Simple wooden planks comprised its walls, unbroken by windows. While its front entrance was at ground level, its far end extended out over a drop off into the choppy waters of the cove, supported by thin wooden pilings. A narrow dock, tethered to the supports with stout lines, banged back and forth against them in the chop below the overhang, and two of the pilings sported regularly spaced horizontal planks, which likely served as ladders to allow access to the dock from the building. Apparently, much of the floor of the extended section was open to the water below, as the keels of three boats, slowly swinging from side to side, were visible below the bottom of the building’s walls. It appeared that the villagers hauled their boats out of the water when they were not in use, rather than trusting them to the waters of the cove.</p><p></p><p>The woman was now dressed like a priestess of Norgober, and she really looked the part. A thin, brown leather mask covered all but her eyes, and the dark brown robes she was dressed in obscured most of her figure, barely letting it show that she was female. Several daggers were hidden in her clothing and her left hand rested on a long coiled whip. On the way here, she had demonstrated her skill with this weapon a few times, and both men had been sufficiently impressed. </p><p></p><p>The men all dressed like simple soldiers, in uniforms they had gotten from the baron's tower. The spare one they had put Targas in was a bit too short and stretched at the shoulders, but the hobgoblins were unlikely to notice. The werebear had refused to get a haircut, but that was something else the humanoids would probably not find strange. </p><p></p><p>Nothing stirred at the boathouse, so Bjön nodded to the priestess. Pojali got up and rounded the ridge, followed by the others, who stayed several steps behind her as if she was the only one in charge. "Is someone here?" the woman said in a stern voice. "The rest of the village seems to be empty, and I would hate to have made the whole journey for nothing. The baron wants this to be seen to quickly!"</p><p></p><p>After a few seconds, the door opened a little, and a hobgoblin head peeked out. "You are the replacements?" he asked in a raspy common. "We thought there would be more of you."</p><p></p><p>"There are more of us. The rest is making camp in a cave up there." She vaguely pointed towards the cliffs. "I didn't want to bring everyone and everything down here before I knew things were fine. Things are fine, are they not?"</p><p></p><p>The hobgoblin opened the door a little wider and nodded. "Yes, we've rounded up the villagers in here so they wouldn't make any trouble. Bit boring watching them but it is at least dry."</p><p></p><p>Teltz chuckled. The rain had only stopped an hour ago. "The journey here wasn't fun, but we were all promised promotions for this. Are there any comely women among the prisoners?"</p><p></p><p>"Now now," Pojali picked up the rehearsed lines. "Work first, fun later. Let us in and tell us what you know about our job, then we decide if we can do it right now or need to get the others."</p><p></p><p>A moment later, they were allowed to enter the boathouse. Nautical gear cluttered the interior of this narrow building. The section closest to the door was full of benches and tables covered in tools and rope, and rolled-up sails and planks were stacked against the walls and in the rafters. Beginning 25 feet from the doors, the east side of the building was open to the waters of the cove below, and three boats hung above the opening from lines running through pulleys bolted to the rafters. Two of the boats were sailboats perhaps 12 feet in length, their masts stepped, while one was a simple 8-foot-long dory. The place smelled of fish and tar, although the wind whipping past the open floor section ameliorated the stench somewhat. The prisoners were bound together into two groups of twelve and loaded into the suspended catboats.</p><p></p><p>"We were 6 before," the commander of the hobgoblins admitted. "But something's killed off our patrol. We haven't been outside since, and we ran out of food. Maybe you can take care of whatever it was?" </p><p></p><p>Pojali found hopeful eyes on her and pretended to consider. "Did this something leave any hints as to what it was?"</p><p></p><p>"Something big and with claws. We found the patrol torn apart." </p><p></p><p>"A predator, maybe?" Bjön came closer to the hobgoblin leader, pretending to want to confer with the priestess. "Should we send the others to comb the village and surroundings?"</p><p></p><p>"Sounds like a plan," Pojali agreed, and then waved to the werebear. "Come on, give our allies something to eat and drink for now, it won't do for them to keel over from exhaustion."</p><p></p><p>The eyes of their foes lit up as they were handed dried meat and a bottle of rum the group had taken from one of the houses. "Now, where is the man I am supposed to report to?" Pojali looked around. </p><p></p><p>One of the noisily eating hobgoblins pointed out over the water. "We are to pick you up and sail with you into the cove and lower that holy symbol of Iomedae into the water on that silver wire," he explained. "Only one of us is to stay and watch the villagers." He sounded very worried. </p><p></p><p>"That would mean we'd need 2 boats, 3 if we bring the others," the werebear spoke up. "It will be difficult enough with one. I grew up on the shore, I know what I'm talking about."</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, it would be better if we'd go alone," the priestess agreed. All of the hobgoblins looked very relieved about that. </p><p></p><p>One of them suddenly swayed, as if drunk. "Hey," he mumbled. "Something's wrong with the rum, can't be drunk from..." </p><p></p><p>Before any of the others would get suspicious, Targas transformed, ripping the uniform apart. At the same time, Teltz' short sword went right through the bugbear next to him while Bjön's axe came out, decapitating the stumbling leader of the gang. Targas ripped the other two apart. Some of the villagers, who had barely had the energy to look up, shouted in surprise now. </p><p></p><p>"We got what we needed from them, anyway," Pojali said, already moving to free the captives. Not too long later, the villagers stood, shakily and most of them crying, on the planks of the boathouse. It was easy to prove the party had come to help, and they recognized Targas, understanding he hadn't been a killer and was part of the reason they were rescued. Before they went off to their houses to rearm themselves and get food and rest, they confirmed the method to open up a secret port. And the elders explained that what was hidden there was an undead dragon turtle called the Terraken, created by the Chelish as a weapon of nautical warfare. </p><p></p><p>Now things began to make sense. The baron would have loved to present this Terraken to Cheliax again. It was, however, not any less dangerous now that the baron was dead. </p><p></p><p>"It is still early in the day," Pojali suggested. "We could get out there and start right away."</p><p></p><p>Bjön wondered about the energy the little priestess had, but he, too was eager to continue. An undead turtle was right up his alley, after all. "We didn't expend too much energy so I'm all for it."</p><p></p><p>"I'm coming with you," Targas announced. </p><p></p><p>Teltz shook his head. "Poltur knows you. It might give us away too early. I'm sorry."</p><p></p><p>"Suppose you are right," the werebear growled. "But I really want to help."</p><p></p><p>"You can help by watching over them." Pojali pointed at the exhausted villagers now filing out of the boathouse. "They won't be able to watch out for themselves for a few days at least."</p><p></p><p>"So," Bjön stated, eying the sea suspiciously. "While I now know a bit about sailing on a river and along a shore, I'm not so confident out there."</p><p></p><p>"No need." Pojali brought out a little flask which had a blueish, swirling mist in it. "This will take us all the way there and we won't even need to touch the water but glide a few feet above."</p><p></p><p>"What is it?" Bjön stared at the bottle, intrigued. </p><p></p><p>"It's called Mist of the Seawind. Expensive, but I found a whole box of them a while ago, and they don't conserve well so I better use them up when it makes sense. Shall we go?" Her eyes sparkled, and the dwarf suspected she was grinning under her mask. </p><p></p><p>Floating in a boat several feet over the water was a strange sensation for everyone but the Vudrani. But they reached their destined spot, confirmed by the villagers, without incident. Pojali fixed the holy symbol to the wire and lowered it as necessary. Almost immediately, the winds and waters calmed. The spray gradually ceased and waves that were crashing against rocks now lapped placidly against them. Although the fog remained, where gaps between the shore and the islands were once visible leading out to the open sea, now stone seawalls were becoming visible, slowly rising. It quickly became clear that the seawalls were only rising a short distance and thereafter it was the water level in the cove that started to fall. More and more of the steep, rocky sides of the islands became visible, until the three islands appeared as a single connected mass. The retreating water left the dock below the village’s boathouse lying in muck. The southwestern face of the largest island revealed a large cave mouth below the low-tide mark.</p><p></p><p>"Wow," Bjön exclaimed. "Now that's something you don't see everyday."</p><p></p><p>"That neither," the bard shouted, pointing to a giant octopus, obviously disturbed by the change in the sea level. </p><p></p><p>"No worries, it can't reach us." Pojali was simply allowing the boat to float a bit higher and faster, and directed it into the new harbor. </p><p></p><p>This huge stone cavern reached over one hundred and fifty feet back into the heart of the rocky island. The murky waters of the cove cover the cavern’s floor to a depth of at least fifteen feet. The space was alive with the sounds of dripping water, and the walls glistened where just a short time ago they were submerged. Barnacle colonies dot the walls, and seaweed hung limply elsewhere. While the arch of the cave mouth stood thirty feet above the water, the roof of the cavern rises as it ran into the island, reaching a height of at least seventy feet at its far end. Likewise, while the cave mouth was only thirty feet wide, the cavern expanded to several times that as they entered. To either side of the cave mouth, stone ramps five feet wide rose out of the water and clung to the cavern walls, gradually </p><p>rising upward to end at a height of thirty five feet at the far wall. At that wall the west ramp opened into another chamber from which faint light emanated.Thick ropes hung into the water here and there, some anchored to rusting cleats set into the walls, others lying in loose coils.</p><p></p><p>Dominating the far wall were gigantic wooden double doors, twenty-five feet in height and forty feet in width, composed of planks which could be ships’ timbers, heavily reinforced with rusting steel. The top of the doors were flush with the top of the wall, while the bottom was ten feet above water level. The many barnacles indicated the door was typically submerged to a depth of twenty feet. No hinges were visible, making it appear the doors open inward.</p><p></p><p>Standing atop the far wall to either side of the giant doors was a pair of wooden and steel contraptions which resembled small siege engines. A stout wooden base supported a pivoting mechanism enclosing an open chute ten feet long and one foot in width, with attached gears used to adjust the angle of the chute. None of them could make sense of it. </p><p></p><p>Spearfishing from the top of the lock doors were 3 hobgoblins, who now looked up as the boat slowly lowered to the water. "Hey," Pojali called out to prevent them from seeing them as enemies. "We're here on command of Baron Vendikon. I'm Pojali, Priestess of Norgober."</p><p></p><p>"Finally," one of them called back. "We've been expecting you for a while."</p><p></p><p>"We were snowed in," Pojali offered an explanation. "Winter is a bad time to travel from the mountains."</p><p></p><p>"Well, you are here now. Come on, the boss would want to see you." They pointed to where the light emanated from and barely waited for them to follow. </p><p></p><p>The other cavern was only slightly smaller than the previous one, measuring over a hundred feet long and nearly as wide, with a natural stone ceiling over forty feet above. Aside from a twenty-foot-wide flat stone shelf running along the northwest wall of the cavern and a much narrower shelf to the southeast, the cavern was filled with perfectly still water, forming a most unusual port, with a fully intact fifty-foot-long ship expertly tied to the stone pier, and a narrow gangplank leading aboard. There were no signs of activity on the ship beyond flickering, unnatural light at half a dozen points on the mast, clearly the product of magic. A plaque near the bow read “Silver Reign.” The dockside was relatively bare beyond a plenitude of rope. The water was contained at the far end by a low wall with open space beyond; like the previous cavern, the ceiling of this one extended even further into the island, angling steeply downward past the low wall as the floor dropped off into some unseen space.</p><p></p><p>"Impressive," Pojali admitted. </p><p></p><p>"Yes, indeed. Welcome to Chimera Cove. I'm Poltur." Poltur stood on the pier at the end of the gangplank, with a slight frown as if he was listening to something else. He was a tall, tanned man in his thirties with a black eye patch over his right eye, wearing the flashiest clothes available in Piren’s Bluff, as the party immediately noticed. Despite the garishness of his outfit, his every movement conveyed a precise sense of balance.</p><p></p><p>"I'm priestess Pojali," the Vudrani answered. "I was told to report to you."</p><p></p><p>"Yes, no doubt. What I need you to do first is get into the ship's hold and bring out any valuables. Can't get any more hobs to go in, and there are some things there needing the attention of a priest."</p><p></p><p>"I see." Pojali winked at the others, indicating she was expecting a trap, or several. Bjön tied their ship to the Silver Reign, and they climbed on board. The deck was completely bare under the flickering supernatural lights attached to the mast, with shadow-nets cast through the rigging dancing across the planks. Two hatches, each with a steep ladder, stood open to the hold below.</p><p></p><p>The priestess came closer to the traitor. "You wouldn't try to trick us after we came all the way just to serve you, would you? We are supposed to be on the same side, and asides, Baron Vendikon would take it very amiss if anything would happen to his future wife, if you get my drift."</p><p></p><p>Teltz almost laughed at the presentation of the Vudrani. Poltur took his grimace as the priestess having mentioned her importance to them a bit too often as well, and took a step back. "I had no idea the baron was so interested in this that he would send his lady."</p><p></p><p>"But of course he is. This is an important turning point in his plans for the future. Now, do you still want us to go down there, or would you rather I make the hobgoblins do it?"</p><p></p><p>Poltur grunted, then he chuckled. "If you can make them, I'd like at least 4 of them down there."</p><p></p><p>"We only saw those 3." Teltz pointed to the group that had gone back to their fishing.</p><p></p><p>"There's more," the traitor said in a voice that left no doubt that he thought all hobgoblins replaceable. He shouted at the fishers to stop and get the others. </p><p></p><p>Not too long after, all 6 of the hobs, as Poltur kept calling them, were assembled on the ship, looking uneasy. The Vudrani started talking to them sweetly, in a singsang voice and a language none of them, least at all the hobgoblins, understood. Their reaction was obvious as their eyes lost all expression to a blank stare. Still the priestess kept singing to them until they turned one by one, making their way 3 in a row to the entrance points to the ship's belly. "Whatever you need cleaned out," Pojali said, "they will do it or die trying."</p><p></p><p>Again Poltur chuckled. "One is as good as the other," he announced. </p><p></p><p>A short while later, muffled shouts and the sound of fighting could be heard, then a loud, desperate cry. "It's not going too well," Bjön commented over some equally muffled curses and a loud bang. "And you wanted to do that to us." Then the dwarf remembered he was supposed to be an evil person of sorts. "I like devious thinking, but should we not be worth more than... hobs?"</p><p></p><p>"I usually know the hobs are loyal to me," the traitor snorted. "Couldn't say that about you. However, having the lady of the baron around changes everything."</p><p></p><p>"I bet," Teltz whispered over more fighting noise so only the paladin could hear. "Especially when he hopes to uses her as a hostage of sorts if the negotiations won't go his way."</p><p></p><p>The noise in the ship abated, and something feline looking came out of the hold. "A hellcat!" Bjön exclaimed, instinctively gripping his axe handle. </p><p></p><p>Poltur was not surprised. "That's Zasril. He got what he needed, now he can take what he wants and leave us be." He stared at the fiendish being, who returned the gaze before giving a quick nod. Then the hellcat turned and vanished through the hole in the ship again. The sound of someone going through some stuff could be heard, and then there was silence. </p><p></p><p>"I'd say to hell with it," Pojali remarked drily. "But that's where it probably went anyway." Teltz managed a chuckle at this. "So, what do you really need a priest of my faith for?"</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lwaxy, post: 5960980, member: 53286"] Zaza's diary, 9th of Abadius, a few days after the described events. We went down to the next level after a fitful rest. I thought I had gotten over my worries from yesterday, at least I tried to convince myself that I had. But this level was something else. It was like the air was thick with evil, as if we were breathing it in. To do anything at all was a much harder task than a few steps up. Except Edawon and the bard, we were all thinking of going back and find someone better than us to take care of it. We were now in a bell-shaped foyer that opened into a broad rectangular chamber with wickedly spiked walls. The rectangular section recessed into the floor almost five feet below the foyer, creating a tiered section of ledges adorned with rows of statues. In the center of the room, a three-foot-tall iron furnace stoodds atop a marble dais belching out gouts of toxic-looking smoke. A moat filled with a curious bubbling liquid surrounded the smoky brazier. Me and Majek went to disable the furnace – Majek because he's almost completely immune to toxic smoke thanks to a spell from a long while back, me because I'd just good with disabling or enabling devices. It sure paid to hang out with gnomes a lot. So far, so good. We checked out the south exit of the room but after we heard some strange noises and smelled a lot of candles – or so it appeared to me anyway – we decided to go west instead. We had to walk through a puddle at an intersection were we could have gone south again, but we decided to stick with west for now. Edawon says it is not good to keep changing your direction in an unknown complex and I guess he's right with that. By the time we entered the next room, we felt a bit paranoid thanks to the atmosphere. Majek was sure we were watched, Kronk was at one point sure someone was even following us. None of that was true, it seems, but were were all very nervous. Ready to jump at shadows, as Mook's mom used to say. I wish Mook had been around, I'd felt less confused. Well, this next room – with no other exit so we had to go back later – held the strangest thing. In the center of a maybe thirty-foot-diameter antechamber was a large green transparent crystal. Large iron chains extended from the crystal into the ceiling, holding it a few feet above the floor. Within the crystal was a heavily tattooed man we quickly identified as a priest of Pharasma, dressed in a hooded robe of archaic style. A piece of the crystal was broken off, exposing the man’s hand, and tiny fragments of the broken crystal were scattered about the floor. At first we thought the man had been caught in a trap, but then we felt a presence in our mind talking to us. The man was actually alive, and immortal, too. He identified himself as the Hanging Seer. No name, if you ask me, but maybe he had forgotten his name and part of his other faculties in the long solitude. Because a mind can just not stay sane in this. Because, well, he had been down here for a very long time, guarding a Seal of sorts, one of many to keep the Whispering Tyrant in. Still I cannot wrap my mind around us finding trouble connected to the Whispering Tyrant! Having been at the isle where Aroden killed him had been a big thing already, but this? In any case, he was desperate. Some necromancer calling himself Drazmorg, an undead with no lower body, broke in here and stole all of the priest's powers and then broke the seal, a fact the Whispering Tyrant, who seems to not want to stop existing, is aware of it and might use the fool necromancer to break the others, too. What was worse for us was that the seer said he was also possessed by an undead spirit Drazmorg bestowed on him to keep him under watch. Which meant, of course, that we weren't so paranoid now to think we had been noticed. We had just come to that conclusion when the seer twisted and grimaced, and something came out of his mouth. I have later been told it was a wraith of sorts, because I fainted. Edawon tells me that is because the thing went for me first and actually touched me, but I do not remember this. I feel weak and shaky, but I was assured it would pass over time. It did not make me any more confident then, and even now I am wondering what we were doing. We aren't up to deal with such things. At least not without the dwarf. I wonder where they are now? If anyone else but me ever reads this, you must think I'm constantly whining over very little, but then, I am the one going through all this. So better not shake your head at me. I am the one in my shoes, and I'm just a young girl out in a world I underestimated. Maybe I'll laugh at those lines later myself, but I doubt it. Majek seemed to be so strong in all this. When we managed to rouse the seer again, who had fallen unconscious, he was the one who promised we'd seal the caverns, as he had brought a lot of explosives just in case. And it was him and Krell who went to do just that, as we went back to the southward tunnels as the seer directed. The tunnel they collapsed led to a storage vault of undead of different kind, but they couldn't come out fast enough. Imagine a necromancer with so many undead to just store them somewhere in case you needed them! Sure that the explosion must have caused Drazmorg to have noticed us, we waited. But either he was too busy with whatever he was on to notice, or too confident to succeed. All that happened was that the door the southern passage ended in opened and out came a mummy of some sorts, which strangely enough had what looked like new armor. There were so many flies around it that it was hard to see though, and the buzzing of them made me very irritated. Krell, Majek and Kronk took it on. After they hit it a few times, the flies died, which was a strange sight, all of them dropping down from one second to the next. The thing didn't smell any better once it was down, and I had to vomit again. Curse my weak stomach, I need to find a way around that. We went into the chamber the thing came out from. It had curved walls on the north side and square corners on the south. On either side were two copper braziers partially filled with a sour-scented oil doing little to mask the nauseating scent of rotting flesh that seemed to seep from the shale stone walls. We left the outter door open so the scent would dissipate eventually. Nothing else was in there except another door to the south, which opened easily. Beyond the doors stretched an about 25-foot-long hallway. On either side, iron sconces lined the walls set five feet apart. The candles in the sconces were unlit, though wax droplets beneath them seemed to indicate they were recently extinguished. Centered on the far wall rested a five-foot-circumference stone plug, slightly recessed into the masonry. A pair of crossed iron bars mounted onto the western wall near the plug’s face formed a handle. Spiraling runes carved into the plug read “DEATH” in at least a dozen different languages. This, at least, is where all sensible people would run, but as I have been told as a small child already, adventurers aren't sensible people, even if they do not qualify as heroes. So I went over to look at the handle and the plug, and found out how to turn it to open the thing. Of course, it needed a lot more strength to open than I had, especially after being weakened. We got it open of course, and passed through. Majek said he would probably collapse the tunnels behind it, but we were in for yet another surprise. The doorway bisected a huge curved passage. Its carved cylindrical walls had thousands of Hallit runes and sigils. Galesong readily identified them. But that was not the strange part. The strange part was that there was no gravity. We started floating up, and some unseen force pulled us in a counter-clockwise drift. We could resist this, but moving against it would have been difficult so we didn't. chances were we'd end up in the same place anyway, with the passage being curved and all. My stomach liked the loss of gravity even less than the stench before but I had nothing left to vomit out, lucky for all of us that was. There were some orbs in the passage, made of some sort of crystal and carved with runes. All of us knew this could not be a good thing when we saw them so we kept our distance. As they floated at the same speed than we moved, this wasn't too difficult. Kronk, Ed, me and Galesong could grab the carved walls to maneuver, Majek and Krell were too heavy to hold on to the walls long though. The ghouls that appeared to stop us were unable to maneuver. When the first came close to a sphere, it suddenly zoned in on it, pushed it out of the way and exploded with a strange, high pitched sound which, although almost not audible, made my head hurt. Majek did away with that ghoul with some luck in maneuvering after that, as it appeared almost done for anyway. The floating around ghoul parts were very hard to avoid, though. Krell found this incredibly funny, and with what seemed to be a lot of enjoyment he directed the other spheres we encountered at the ghouls. We just stayed ahead of those abominations and went around the whole circle twice before they were done for, passing a door opposite the one we had entered through in the process. Later Krell explained about the game called ghoul ball they had played at his magic academy. Except for the lack of gravity, the description came close enough to what he had done here. The door on the opposite had the same kind of plug but it was harder to open because of the weightlessness. Th good thing was that once inside yet another longish corridor, we were all back on our feet again. Now it was all the way back to the opposite side again, where we found yet another plug entrance. Majek was about to prepare his explosives here when we heard a muffled. We couldn't make out the words, but for some reason, Krell was drawn by them and started to open the plug. Before we could stop him, the darn thing opened and exposed us to a sight I could have once more done without. The opening led into a rotunda formed from tremendous limestone blocks. A ten-foot-tall dais rose from the center of the room, supporting a concentric mini ziggurat of layered, rune-covered gear. Even those of us with no magic could feel the supernatural energy pulsing from the thing. On either side of the dais, a half-flight of stairs ascended from the floor to the largest gear. Colored chalk streaked the walls, floor, and ceiling with arcane symbols and patterns, and sickly-scented oils burned from careful placed braziers made from human skulls. Scattered throughout the room flopped the decaying parts of dozens of battered undead corpses, all bearing bloodless gashes and sundered limbs These flopped and undulated unnaturally, scattered like fish in a net. Above the strange seal hovered a horrifically decomposed humanoid. The lower half of his body was gone, leaving only guts and his dangling spine encased in a weird, glass-like receptacle filled with sickly-colored fluids bolted into his chest. Tubes made from intestines and other compounds rose from the fluids attaching to his face, neck, and arms. He preached loudly, bellowing obscene liturgies from a strange book to a worshipful audience of rotting corpses. Dark energies seeped from the ziggurat, caressing the surrounding undead. I counted 8 of those gears and wondered if they could be fixed to close the seal again, although I had no idea how it had been opened in the first place. I barely noticed the dreadful thing ordering his undead to attack, or Krell being drawn by the device the same way I was. Maybe my mind tried to block out everything else to be able to deal with it. The mechanism was, in essence a combination lock. You could turn the cogs separately in any direction. That was good and bad at the same time, good because it meant the seal was likely still functional, and bad because we could not easily know what the combination had to be set to to close the evil energies back in. Krell turned to throw a spell at the advancing ghast and ghouls, and I heard Galesong starting up a song to aid us. I don't remember the details, but it was a funny song about undead stumbling through a dungeon. I could see where the gears had been moved. But it looked as if all of them had changed position, so again I couldn't do anything with that. But as Krell cursed next to me for discovering the same, I had an idea. "The shadow world looks like a parody of ours, didn't you say that? A darker version with different life – or unlife – forms?" "Yeah, why?" Again, he fired a spell, but I barely noticed the heat from it. "What happens if something gets changed in either world?" "In the shadow world, it will reset itself to however it is here. If something is changed here, the shadow world will adapt eventually." Somewhere, like through a veil, I heard Edawon shout out a warning, and then Majek let out a cry. "So, how long to adapt? Would the shadow world still have the gears in the original position?" Krell's eyes went wide, and a moment later, he disappeared into the shadow. Galesong's voice got louder, as if he was desperate, and then there was a small explosion and the stink of burned undead flesh. I zoned out even more, because if we could not close this we would probably all be dead anyway. Krell suddenly appeared again and pointed at the gears. "We need to move them not only to specific positions, but in a specific order. It keeps happening over and over in the shadow world but it hasn't stabilized there yet." One day, I think, i want to see this shadow world myself. For now, I was just glad my idea worked. The necromancer had floated off the gears and to where the battle was. I think he hadn't even noticed us in doing so, which was just perfect. Krell gave directions, and we started moving the gears. At first, we still didn't get noticed, but then, Drazmorg let out an eerie cry and turned his cursed attention on us. However, we were almost done and the magic missile attack that hit Krell didn't seem to do much damage to him at first sight. He was probably still half in the shadow world to be able to see the gears there – something that took a lot of energy, he had once said, but it also protected him somewhat from injuries on either side. The gears turned back into place, and all of a sudden, the terrible oppression of the negative energy was all gone. It now felt like a normal, dangerous, almost suicidal dungeon exploration. Drazmorg's screeching stopped, and then there was another explosion, closer this time. I ducked out of the way as the contraption which had been the down half of the necromancer flew right at me. Majek let out a triumphant shout just before I saw him faint from a wound in his chest. Everything else was unclear until I came to my senses again in the room of the Hanging Seer. The seer had used his powers, which were now back, to heal the wounded and disease infected among us, which´meant everyone. Majek and Kronk had been especially bad off. He could not do anything about my weakness, but also assured me it would pass. He had not expected for us to be able to destroy the necromancer, and even less to close the seal again. And he made a prophecy about us and our many friends being the destined ones, chosen to restore the world in many ways, and not always being appreciated for it. Something along those lines. I saw Kronk nodding in my direction and heard him mumble something about the thief of thieves. Majek's reaction was more like mine: "We don't need that." But then, doesn't this mean that we, me included, will really be heroes? Maybe I need to stop worrying. As I write this, we are finally back in Falcon's Hollow. There are still undead stragglers but they are taken care off one by one. The tunnels to the seal are all collapsed now, so we should be safe. For a while. Such things tend to come back to haunt the world. We are preparing to leave here with the children we had rescued and some of their family. Edawon, Majek and Krell all agreed it would not do to wait to spring. In a few weeks, with some luck, the snow will have lessened enough. Our only worry is how the others will find us now, but from what Kronk says his people's prophets said, we will find the others in Absalom, of all places. We'll see soon enough. Dwarfed by the bluffs behind and to either side, a dozen pathetic wooden buildings huddled along the shore within a small protective curve of the rocky coastline. Three imposing islands faced the settlement through the fog. The largest, a nearly cubic block of stone, squatted in the water like some stubborn beast. The second island sent columns of foam arcing high into the air with each breaker impacting its far side, focusing the onrushing wave into a vertical channel, and a sizzle echoed across the cove as the spray returns to the sea. The last and smallest island was remarkable only for its silhouette: two pointed boulders near its crest give it the look of a horned animal head. "So, this is Chimera Cove," Bjön said, shivering slightly. The weather down here was warmer than in the mountains, of course, and there was little to no snow at the coast. However, the rain was icy cold, and water had a tendency to go deeper into clothes than snow, which could be shaken off. "It's not much," Teltz stated. "I wonder what anyone could find here that would be of any importance." He huddled into his dark blue coat as if he wanted to vanish into it completely. For all her being used to a much warmer climate, Pojali didn't seem to feel the cold. "Looks can be very deceiving.And we're being followed." "What?" It was all Bjön could do not to turn around. "Any idea who and how many?" The priestess concentrated for a moment, eyes half closed. "Just one, and a large one. Smells like bear, somehow, but then different." Before the others could make something out of this confusing statement, a deep, grumbling voice spoke up from behind a boulder as the owner of it came into view. "That would be me. I need to talk to you before you go down there. I'm Targas, and as you can probably guess, a werebear." Light brown fur covered a massive bear form, clad in basic leather armor and wielding a really really big axe. Targas' eyes looked friendly, but worried, and Bjön put the axe away he had drawn on instinct. "He's not evil." "My apologies for not showing up in human form," Targas said and pointed at the sturdy but fast horses the party had been given back in the mountains. "I can't keep up with those as a human. In any case, Chimera Cove is in trouble, has been for a while, and I need help to solve the problem." "Very direct," Pojali smiled and got off the horse. "Do you have a place nearby where we could talk?" Not too long later, they were sitting in a comfortable cave around an even more comfortable fire, drying their things and drinking herbal tea while listening to the werebear's story. Part of it seemed like a fairy tale, one of those that almost always had a solid foundation in truth. A long time ago, the village had been founded to protect a dark secret. Recently, however, a man named Poltur, grandson of the village's founder, decided to betray the cove's secret to the now deceased Baron Vendikon, having gotten tired of sitting on a barren shore. The baron had sent some troops but it ended in disaster with Poltur barely surviving. It took a while to find out what was really needed to succeed, which is why he had sent the map the party now had and some requirements along with it. And what was worse, the village was now occupied. "By whom?" the priestess asked, getting herself more tea. "The baron hasn't sent anyone, he's dead." "The traitor returned with a score of hobgoblin soldiers, the village was completely unprepared. He rounded up everyone, and his hobgoblins are still holding them in the boathouse. I think that they’re still alive, but they must be nearly starving at this point.” "A bad situation. Couldn't you try and get them out?" Bjön started fumbling with his holy symbol. "Poltur left six hobgoblins behind when he sailed off to the islands. Two of them thought they would make a patrol of the village one night, looting whatever they chose, and I killed them. Now there are four. But four is still too many for me, when the villagers are within their reach.” "Good point, but how come they didn't get you in the first place?" the bard wanted to know. The werebear, now in his human form and changed into winter robes, looked sad now. "I… am not exactly a member of the village anymore. I made the mistake of telling Poltur of my… family’s secret. I should have known better, even then. Poltur killed a woman and made it appear as if I were the one responsible, and the elders believed I was guilty. I have lived as an exile since then, and pieced together the truth through years of watching, but I have not returned to the village. I think many of them know I’m here, and that the woman’s death was not my doing.” He looked at the paladin. "He wants the islands’ secret. There can be no doubt. I tell you this because the village has failed in its mission to watch over the islands and what they hold, and you may be the last remaining hope. The village elders tell each of us, when we reach our 13th summer, that the islands hold something dark and dangerous, and that it is our duty to watch over them and make sure the evil remains undisturbed. They likely know more. Poltur, as the grandson of the village’s founder, probably knows more as well. That secret is undoubtedly what he seeks, but I have told you all I can offer of it. Poltur, while completely reprehensible, unfortunately is also quite a swordsman. Do not duel with him. He will kill you.” "We are here to take care of it, one way or the other," Bjön said for all of them. "Now, how fast can you change shape? I have an idea..." From behind a shallow ridge close to the shore, the group was watching the boathouse. This long and narrow building, easily the largest in the modest village, stretched sixty feet long and twenty-five feet wide. Simple wooden planks comprised its walls, unbroken by windows. While its front entrance was at ground level, its far end extended out over a drop off into the choppy waters of the cove, supported by thin wooden pilings. A narrow dock, tethered to the supports with stout lines, banged back and forth against them in the chop below the overhang, and two of the pilings sported regularly spaced horizontal planks, which likely served as ladders to allow access to the dock from the building. Apparently, much of the floor of the extended section was open to the water below, as the keels of three boats, slowly swinging from side to side, were visible below the bottom of the building’s walls. It appeared that the villagers hauled their boats out of the water when they were not in use, rather than trusting them to the waters of the cove. The woman was now dressed like a priestess of Norgober, and she really looked the part. A thin, brown leather mask covered all but her eyes, and the dark brown robes she was dressed in obscured most of her figure, barely letting it show that she was female. Several daggers were hidden in her clothing and her left hand rested on a long coiled whip. On the way here, she had demonstrated her skill with this weapon a few times, and both men had been sufficiently impressed. The men all dressed like simple soldiers, in uniforms they had gotten from the baron's tower. The spare one they had put Targas in was a bit too short and stretched at the shoulders, but the hobgoblins were unlikely to notice. The werebear had refused to get a haircut, but that was something else the humanoids would probably not find strange. Nothing stirred at the boathouse, so Bjön nodded to the priestess. Pojali got up and rounded the ridge, followed by the others, who stayed several steps behind her as if she was the only one in charge. "Is someone here?" the woman said in a stern voice. "The rest of the village seems to be empty, and I would hate to have made the whole journey for nothing. The baron wants this to be seen to quickly!" After a few seconds, the door opened a little, and a hobgoblin head peeked out. "You are the replacements?" he asked in a raspy common. "We thought there would be more of you." "There are more of us. The rest is making camp in a cave up there." She vaguely pointed towards the cliffs. "I didn't want to bring everyone and everything down here before I knew things were fine. Things are fine, are they not?" The hobgoblin opened the door a little wider and nodded. "Yes, we've rounded up the villagers in here so they wouldn't make any trouble. Bit boring watching them but it is at least dry." Teltz chuckled. The rain had only stopped an hour ago. "The journey here wasn't fun, but we were all promised promotions for this. Are there any comely women among the prisoners?" "Now now," Pojali picked up the rehearsed lines. "Work first, fun later. Let us in and tell us what you know about our job, then we decide if we can do it right now or need to get the others." A moment later, they were allowed to enter the boathouse. Nautical gear cluttered the interior of this narrow building. The section closest to the door was full of benches and tables covered in tools and rope, and rolled-up sails and planks were stacked against the walls and in the rafters. Beginning 25 feet from the doors, the east side of the building was open to the waters of the cove below, and three boats hung above the opening from lines running through pulleys bolted to the rafters. Two of the boats were sailboats perhaps 12 feet in length, their masts stepped, while one was a simple 8-foot-long dory. The place smelled of fish and tar, although the wind whipping past the open floor section ameliorated the stench somewhat. The prisoners were bound together into two groups of twelve and loaded into the suspended catboats. "We were 6 before," the commander of the hobgoblins admitted. "But something's killed off our patrol. We haven't been outside since, and we ran out of food. Maybe you can take care of whatever it was?" Pojali found hopeful eyes on her and pretended to consider. "Did this something leave any hints as to what it was?" "Something big and with claws. We found the patrol torn apart." "A predator, maybe?" Bjön came closer to the hobgoblin leader, pretending to want to confer with the priestess. "Should we send the others to comb the village and surroundings?" "Sounds like a plan," Pojali agreed, and then waved to the werebear. "Come on, give our allies something to eat and drink for now, it won't do for them to keel over from exhaustion." The eyes of their foes lit up as they were handed dried meat and a bottle of rum the group had taken from one of the houses. "Now, where is the man I am supposed to report to?" Pojali looked around. One of the noisily eating hobgoblins pointed out over the water. "We are to pick you up and sail with you into the cove and lower that holy symbol of Iomedae into the water on that silver wire," he explained. "Only one of us is to stay and watch the villagers." He sounded very worried. "That would mean we'd need 2 boats, 3 if we bring the others," the werebear spoke up. "It will be difficult enough with one. I grew up on the shore, I know what I'm talking about." "Yeah, it would be better if we'd go alone," the priestess agreed. All of the hobgoblins looked very relieved about that. One of them suddenly swayed, as if drunk. "Hey," he mumbled. "Something's wrong with the rum, can't be drunk from..." Before any of the others would get suspicious, Targas transformed, ripping the uniform apart. At the same time, Teltz' short sword went right through the bugbear next to him while Bjön's axe came out, decapitating the stumbling leader of the gang. Targas ripped the other two apart. Some of the villagers, who had barely had the energy to look up, shouted in surprise now. "We got what we needed from them, anyway," Pojali said, already moving to free the captives. Not too long later, the villagers stood, shakily and most of them crying, on the planks of the boathouse. It was easy to prove the party had come to help, and they recognized Targas, understanding he hadn't been a killer and was part of the reason they were rescued. Before they went off to their houses to rearm themselves and get food and rest, they confirmed the method to open up a secret port. And the elders explained that what was hidden there was an undead dragon turtle called the Terraken, created by the Chelish as a weapon of nautical warfare. Now things began to make sense. The baron would have loved to present this Terraken to Cheliax again. It was, however, not any less dangerous now that the baron was dead. "It is still early in the day," Pojali suggested. "We could get out there and start right away." Bjön wondered about the energy the little priestess had, but he, too was eager to continue. An undead turtle was right up his alley, after all. "We didn't expend too much energy so I'm all for it." "I'm coming with you," Targas announced. Teltz shook his head. "Poltur knows you. It might give us away too early. I'm sorry." "Suppose you are right," the werebear growled. "But I really want to help." "You can help by watching over them." Pojali pointed at the exhausted villagers now filing out of the boathouse. "They won't be able to watch out for themselves for a few days at least." "So," Bjön stated, eying the sea suspiciously. "While I now know a bit about sailing on a river and along a shore, I'm not so confident out there." "No need." Pojali brought out a little flask which had a blueish, swirling mist in it. "This will take us all the way there and we won't even need to touch the water but glide a few feet above." "What is it?" Bjön stared at the bottle, intrigued. "It's called Mist of the Seawind. Expensive, but I found a whole box of them a while ago, and they don't conserve well so I better use them up when it makes sense. Shall we go?" Her eyes sparkled, and the dwarf suspected she was grinning under her mask. Floating in a boat several feet over the water was a strange sensation for everyone but the Vudrani. But they reached their destined spot, confirmed by the villagers, without incident. Pojali fixed the holy symbol to the wire and lowered it as necessary. Almost immediately, the winds and waters calmed. The spray gradually ceased and waves that were crashing against rocks now lapped placidly against them. Although the fog remained, where gaps between the shore and the islands were once visible leading out to the open sea, now stone seawalls were becoming visible, slowly rising. It quickly became clear that the seawalls were only rising a short distance and thereafter it was the water level in the cove that started to fall. More and more of the steep, rocky sides of the islands became visible, until the three islands appeared as a single connected mass. The retreating water left the dock below the village’s boathouse lying in muck. The southwestern face of the largest island revealed a large cave mouth below the low-tide mark. "Wow," Bjön exclaimed. "Now that's something you don't see everyday." "That neither," the bard shouted, pointing to a giant octopus, obviously disturbed by the change in the sea level. "No worries, it can't reach us." Pojali was simply allowing the boat to float a bit higher and faster, and directed it into the new harbor. This huge stone cavern reached over one hundred and fifty feet back into the heart of the rocky island. The murky waters of the cove cover the cavern’s floor to a depth of at least fifteen feet. The space was alive with the sounds of dripping water, and the walls glistened where just a short time ago they were submerged. Barnacle colonies dot the walls, and seaweed hung limply elsewhere. While the arch of the cave mouth stood thirty feet above the water, the roof of the cavern rises as it ran into the island, reaching a height of at least seventy feet at its far end. Likewise, while the cave mouth was only thirty feet wide, the cavern expanded to several times that as they entered. To either side of the cave mouth, stone ramps five feet wide rose out of the water and clung to the cavern walls, gradually rising upward to end at a height of thirty five feet at the far wall. At that wall the west ramp opened into another chamber from which faint light emanated.Thick ropes hung into the water here and there, some anchored to rusting cleats set into the walls, others lying in loose coils. Dominating the far wall were gigantic wooden double doors, twenty-five feet in height and forty feet in width, composed of planks which could be ships’ timbers, heavily reinforced with rusting steel. The top of the doors were flush with the top of the wall, while the bottom was ten feet above water level. The many barnacles indicated the door was typically submerged to a depth of twenty feet. No hinges were visible, making it appear the doors open inward. Standing atop the far wall to either side of the giant doors was a pair of wooden and steel contraptions which resembled small siege engines. A stout wooden base supported a pivoting mechanism enclosing an open chute ten feet long and one foot in width, with attached gears used to adjust the angle of the chute. None of them could make sense of it. Spearfishing from the top of the lock doors were 3 hobgoblins, who now looked up as the boat slowly lowered to the water. "Hey," Pojali called out to prevent them from seeing them as enemies. "We're here on command of Baron Vendikon. I'm Pojali, Priestess of Norgober." "Finally," one of them called back. "We've been expecting you for a while." "We were snowed in," Pojali offered an explanation. "Winter is a bad time to travel from the mountains." "Well, you are here now. Come on, the boss would want to see you." They pointed to where the light emanated from and barely waited for them to follow. The other cavern was only slightly smaller than the previous one, measuring over a hundred feet long and nearly as wide, with a natural stone ceiling over forty feet above. Aside from a twenty-foot-wide flat stone shelf running along the northwest wall of the cavern and a much narrower shelf to the southeast, the cavern was filled with perfectly still water, forming a most unusual port, with a fully intact fifty-foot-long ship expertly tied to the stone pier, and a narrow gangplank leading aboard. There were no signs of activity on the ship beyond flickering, unnatural light at half a dozen points on the mast, clearly the product of magic. A plaque near the bow read “Silver Reign.” The dockside was relatively bare beyond a plenitude of rope. The water was contained at the far end by a low wall with open space beyond; like the previous cavern, the ceiling of this one extended even further into the island, angling steeply downward past the low wall as the floor dropped off into some unseen space. "Impressive," Pojali admitted. "Yes, indeed. Welcome to Chimera Cove. I'm Poltur." Poltur stood on the pier at the end of the gangplank, with a slight frown as if he was listening to something else. He was a tall, tanned man in his thirties with a black eye patch over his right eye, wearing the flashiest clothes available in Piren’s Bluff, as the party immediately noticed. Despite the garishness of his outfit, his every movement conveyed a precise sense of balance. "I'm priestess Pojali," the Vudrani answered. "I was told to report to you." "Yes, no doubt. What I need you to do first is get into the ship's hold and bring out any valuables. Can't get any more hobs to go in, and there are some things there needing the attention of a priest." "I see." Pojali winked at the others, indicating she was expecting a trap, or several. Bjön tied their ship to the Silver Reign, and they climbed on board. The deck was completely bare under the flickering supernatural lights attached to the mast, with shadow-nets cast through the rigging dancing across the planks. Two hatches, each with a steep ladder, stood open to the hold below. The priestess came closer to the traitor. "You wouldn't try to trick us after we came all the way just to serve you, would you? We are supposed to be on the same side, and asides, Baron Vendikon would take it very amiss if anything would happen to his future wife, if you get my drift." Teltz almost laughed at the presentation of the Vudrani. Poltur took his grimace as the priestess having mentioned her importance to them a bit too often as well, and took a step back. "I had no idea the baron was so interested in this that he would send his lady." "But of course he is. This is an important turning point in his plans for the future. Now, do you still want us to go down there, or would you rather I make the hobgoblins do it?" Poltur grunted, then he chuckled. "If you can make them, I'd like at least 4 of them down there." "We only saw those 3." Teltz pointed to the group that had gone back to their fishing. "There's more," the traitor said in a voice that left no doubt that he thought all hobgoblins replaceable. He shouted at the fishers to stop and get the others. Not too long after, all 6 of the hobs, as Poltur kept calling them, were assembled on the ship, looking uneasy. The Vudrani started talking to them sweetly, in a singsang voice and a language none of them, least at all the hobgoblins, understood. Their reaction was obvious as their eyes lost all expression to a blank stare. Still the priestess kept singing to them until they turned one by one, making their way 3 in a row to the entrance points to the ship's belly. "Whatever you need cleaned out," Pojali said, "they will do it or die trying." Again Poltur chuckled. "One is as good as the other," he announced. A short while later, muffled shouts and the sound of fighting could be heard, then a loud, desperate cry. "It's not going too well," Bjön commented over some equally muffled curses and a loud bang. "And you wanted to do that to us." Then the dwarf remembered he was supposed to be an evil person of sorts. "I like devious thinking, but should we not be worth more than... hobs?" "I usually know the hobs are loyal to me," the traitor snorted. "Couldn't say that about you. However, having the lady of the baron around changes everything." "I bet," Teltz whispered over more fighting noise so only the paladin could hear. "Especially when he hopes to uses her as a hostage of sorts if the negotiations won't go his way." The noise in the ship abated, and something feline looking came out of the hold. "A hellcat!" Bjön exclaimed, instinctively gripping his axe handle. Poltur was not surprised. "That's Zasril. He got what he needed, now he can take what he wants and leave us be." He stared at the fiendish being, who returned the gaze before giving a quick nod. Then the hellcat turned and vanished through the hole in the ship again. The sound of someone going through some stuff could be heard, and then there was silence. "I'd say to hell with it," Pojali remarked drily. "But that's where it probably went anyway." Teltz managed a chuckle at this. "So, what do you really need a priest of my faith for?" [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Company of Chaos - All Around Golarion
Top