Drazulfel's Core Adventure Path

Drazulfel

First Post
Sunday, 26th Anyas, 528 NR, Mid-afternoon, Part Three


The tide had turned, and the battle's potential outcome no longer favored the companions. The odds had been evened, at best. Though the enemy's numbers had thinned, the wounded Irontooth had entered a raging frenzy that bordered on insanity. In a desperate attempt to re-gain control of the situation, Paget moved into flanking position and hit Irontooth with a perfectly timed Sly Flourish. The goblin leader was left bleeding from multiple open wounds, and still suffered from the burning acid of Raxil's arrow. But then, a wyrmpriest stepped out from the shadows and uttered a dark prayer to Orcus, and Irontooth and his cohorts appeared to be instantly refreshed and ready to face another round head on. The friends rose to the challenge.

Raxil drew out his wand and, aiming it carefully, fired an inerrant Ray of Frost into Irontooth's flank. Though the blow was partially absorbed by the wyrmpriest's blessing, the wizard still managed to deal a critical amount of damage, and the insane goblin was slowed in his tracks by the bitter cold. Phoebe drew upon her second wind, pushed herself beyond her normal limits to take another action, and lit a Sacred Flame at the feet of her foe. The flames rose up around Irontooth, but quickly faded, seeming to have no effect. Hissing in agony as Raxil's Acid Arrow seared away more flesh and sinew, the goblin flailed about wildly with both axes in a dizzying attack that narrowly missed Paget, but clipped Gildras hard, leaving him bloodied. Also calling upon a second wind, the warlord counterattacked from a flanking position with a savage Viper's Strike that took Irontooth full in the gut. Bakbuk followed up with a failed Spinning Sweep (which he later claimed was expertly faked), and came around a second time with the aid of his tiefling friend's Tactical Presence to land a tremendous Reaping Strike. Irontooth would not be able to take much more!

Both dragonshields and the remaining skirmisher forced their way into the melee in a mad attempt to save their leader. Bakbuk faltered under the dragonshields' merciless, constant ringing blows against his armor, and Paget was bloodied by a sharp jab from the skirmisher's spear. The halfling looked up and saw one of the wyrmpriests scamper past the group and disappear through the mists of the waterfall, screaming that Kalarel must be warned of the might of these intruders. A moment later, searing flames washed over Paget's back as the second wyrmpriest snuck up behind him and unleashed its Dragon Breath. Bakbuk tried to protect his friend with his shield, but only managed to receive a shortsword thrust through his thigh, from one of the dragonshields, for his heroic effort. Both companions were left singed, bloodied, and near death.
4E Meta: At this point, all five PCs were Bloodied. In other words, their wound totals were more than 1/2 their maximum HP totals. Paget was very near death, had no healing surges remaining, and Phoebe had used up all of her pure healing prayers. It was a truly dire situation!


All Five Companions Were Bloodied!

Mustering up every ounce of strength he had remaining in his small, frail body, Paget cried out in pain and anguish, "Retreat! We can't win this. Escape to the forest while we're still able!" Running past Irontooth, the halfling flicked his daggers out in a weak attempt to shed a little bit more goblin blood, then he plunged through the waterfall and disappeared from view. Raxil didn't hesitate to follow his friend's cue. The wizard fired a Magic Missile towards Irontooth, and the magical energy blast struck home. With a sly grin, Raxil turned and sprinted towards the raging torrent, and launched a second Magic Missile almost blindly over his shoulder as he vanished through the waterfall. He never saw the blast tear a steaming chunk of flesh from the crazed goblin's side. Bakbuk was almost too weak to move, so Phoebe moved forward and lit a Sacred Flame between the dwarf and Irontooth. The fire seared the goblin, causing it to begin wobbling on its feet, while at the same time it helped Bakbuk to rise and start moving. Seeing what was, most likely, her last opportunity to make a difference, Phoebe called upon Bahamut once last time to light a second Sacred Flame right in front of Irontooth. As the spark grew, and the heat intensified, Bakbuk ran out through the waterfall. The goblin's skin withered and cracked, and with a strangled, dying breath, Irontooth cried, "Kalarel, I have failed you. Orcus, prepare my way!" With that, the goblin crumpled to the ground, and died.
4E Meta: Everyone was using up their action points before running away.
Seeing their mighty master fall was too much for the remaining kobolds. Demoralized, and afraid for their lives, they dropped their weapons and scattered in every direction. Phoebe and Gildras made a few half-hearted attempts to dispatch one or two of them as they ran by, but the wounded companions were too exhausted, and too badly hurt to do any real damage. The pair clung to each other, as if for dear life, for several moments before they dragged themselves outside to fetch the rest of their friends. The five helped each other as they staggered and stumbled back into the relative safety of the now-abandoned cave, and all as one they collapsed into the mud. Not one of them spoke, and soon, they were all fast asleep. Even in their dreams, the pain and terror of the afternoon's events tormented them.
DM Note: Had I kept the second wyrmpriest in play, and had I decided to have both wyrmpriests, both dragonshields, and the remaining skirmishers pursue the PCs, I could have fairly easily wiped out most of--if not the entire--party at the end of this battle. But, D&D isn't DM vs. PC's. The decision to ease off a bit was a reward for some very smart decisions made by the players, a touch of beneficial drama to coincide with some wildly lucky dice rolls, and simple mercy. TPK's are never fun. Well, almost never! So far, our adventure together has been very fun, and I want to keep my players encouraged!



 
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Drazulfel

First Post
Moonday, 27th Anyas, 528 NR, Early Morning


In the dark hours before dawn, Gildras struggled to bring himself to his feet. He was still hurt and bleeding, as were all of his friends, but a full night an a near-comatose sleep state did much to revitalize him. The warlord attended to his own wounds, then began waking the others. In no time, Phoebe had the group patched up and moving about, and the ever-silent Bakbuk had started a small cooking fire near the back of the cave. The warm glow of the flames forced back some of the dampness of the chamber, and helped to lift the companions' spirits.

By the time the sun started to rise, Gildras and Paget had scoured the cave, looking for anything useful, or of value. Gritting his teeth against the smell, Gildras rolled Irontooth's body onto its back and searched it. It was the first chance the tiefling had to study the goblin's demon skull tattoo up close. It didn't appear to have any arcane significance, but after staring at it for several moments, Gildras' eyes grew wide. "Orcus!" he exclaimed out loud, to nobody in particular. "This tattoo is a symbol of the lord of the undead, the demon Orcus. It appears that Irontooth might have been one of his followers!"

A more careful search of the corpse revealed a small, copper key. Paget had located a sturdy chest in the northeast corner of the cave, from where Irontooth first emerged. The halfling took the key from his friend and tried it out on the lock. It fit perfectly! Quickly, and with much excitement, the rogue yanked the chest open. He groaned in disappointment at the contents. There was nothing more than some old armor, and a scrap of parchment. He closed the lid and shuffled away.

Bakbuk, on the other hand, perked up at the jangling sound of maille being rustled. The dwarf padded over to the chest, grunting along the way, and pulled it back open with the end of his hammer. The normally dour-faced dwarf's countenance lit up like a yule tree. With near-reverence, Bakbuk extracted a chainmaille vest that sparkled in the diffused light of the morning sun. "Mmmm!" he exclaimed, appreciatively. Phoebe approached and examined the magical armor. "Very nice!" she said, after a few moments. "Dwarven chainmaille. This should prove very helpful to our stout friend, if yesterday was any indication of what our new life of 'adventure' is going to be like." She scowled at Paget in mock anger. Bakbuk was already tossing aside his own battered chain shirt, and pulling Irontooth's treasure over his head. It was a snug fit, but the dwarf didn't care. The uncharacteristic glee on his face made even Raxil smile.

Realizing that Paget almost missed a critical piece of treasure, Phoebe took a second look into the chest. She reached in and pulled out the piece of tattered parchment that was stuck to the bottom. The cleric stared at it for several moments, and frowned deeply.


"A spy in Winterhaven. Grr... someone's up to no good. We need to get back to town and warn Lord Whatshisface about this! Maybe he knows who this Kalarel is, or something about the connection that Irontooth had with him, or Orcus." Phoebe was clearly agitated by the note, and she prattled on nervously for several more moments about the need for a speedy return, as she gathered the party's belongings and prepared to leave.

"But, what about that poor man?" Paget asked, quietly.

"What man?" The cleric was clearly preoccupied.

Raxil piped in and reminded Phoebe about what they learned from their goblin prisoner only the day before. "Don't forget, that guy that got kidnapped from the wagons. He sounds like he's in real trouble, if he's still alive!"

Phoebe's shoulders slumped.

"Raxil's right," Paget said. "If Irontooth's cronies, or Kalarel's, or Orcus... or whoever... went through the trouble of ambushing a caravan just to kidnap an archaeologist, he probably needs our help right away. He might not live long enough for us to return to town and call out the militia. That is, if Winterhaven even has a militia!"

She didn't like it, but Phoebe knew that her friends were right. "Okay then," she conceded. "Where's Raxil's map? Let's go find that archaeologist and rescue him so we can get back to Winterhaven. I need a bath like you wouldn't believe!"

Bakbuk sniffed the air near the cleric and chuckled to himself.

"What's his problem?" Phoebe asked, with a hint of irritation.

"Oh, I think he believes!" Raxil replied, and he and Paget quickly plunged through the waterfall and into the morning air, trying to stifle their fits of laughter.
 
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Drazulfel

First Post
Moonday, 27th Anyas, 528 NR, Mid-morning, Part One


The five weary companions trudged through the forest south of Winterhaven for at least an hour before they started to come upon identifiable landmarks. Using Raxil's map, they finally found an old hunting trail that led to the supposed dig site where "they" dragged the archaeologist prisoner off to, after the wagon ambush. The party was mildly concerned about the fact that they had no idea who--or what--this mysterious "they" consisted of. Humans? Kobolds? Goblins? Or, something altogether different, and more sinister? They were about to find out!

A steep-sided crater punctured the wilderness. Near the center of the depression, several humanoid figures clustered around a collection of bones. Two small, dragon-like creatures near the crater rim stood alert and stared at the companions' approach. On the far side of the crater, a sinister apparition presided over the gathering.



Gildras raised a hand in warning, and the friends stopped dead in their tracks. The five of them stared down the sloping path into the pit, and those within stared back up at them. After a few moments of tense silence, many of the robed figures picked up their tools and resumed digging, effectively ignoring the newcomers. One short, stout creature waved its hand in what appeared to be a greeting. The friends were confused at this behavior. Gildras, in particular, was very apprehensive.

Within the excavation site, there were several men who clearly appeared to be normal human beings. They were all armed, and appeared to be quite strong, and yet they made no threatening gestures. Two guard drakes paced nervously at the bottom of the road, eyeballing the companions, and occasionally letting out a loud hiss, but they were otherwise docile. The small creature, which Gildras determined to be a gnome, occasionally looked up at the party with mild interest, but was obviously more focused on the work at hand. What truly frightened the tiefling warlord, and the deciding factor in his dilemma, was the spectral apparition. There was no way the presence of the undead could be tied to anything good. With grim determination, Gildras drew his sword, and raised it high.

The gnome froze, and stared up at the warlord in unfeigned disbelief. "They're attacking us? They're attacking us! To arms! You men, there... protect the site!" Pointing to the drakes, the tiny dig master cried out, "Get them, you useless lizards! GET THEM!" With that, the gnome drew his cloak up over his head and vanished from sight!

One of the guard drakes rushed up the hill, its rapid, reptilian, side-to-side stride dizzying to look at. It snapped at Phoebe, who forced it to back down with a misfired Lance of Faith. Her aim was off, but it was enough to startle the creature into temporary submission. Gildras, sword at the ready, stepped forward, shoved Bakbuk into flanking position behind the drake, and brought his blade down hard, slashing the beast across the left cheek. It hissed and snapped at the tiefling, and Bakbuk whipped his maul around in a Reaping Strike and clobbered it in the haunches. Bone cracked, and dwarf smiled.


The Enemy!

Paget scrambled up and over a short, rocky landfall as the guard drake hissed and spit at him. He leaped off of a medium-sized boulder and tried to plant a Deft Strike between the creature's shoulderblades, but the beast stepped aside and the halfing missed his mark. The second drake came slithering up the hill and opened its wide jaws as if to chomp Bakbuk in two, but Raxil fired an expertly timed Magic Missile into its gaping maw, causing it to snap its mouth shut and flail its head back and forth in shock, pain, and anger. Hearing the drake's shriek of agony, the four human diggers fisted whatever weapons they could find nearby... pickaxes, shovels, hammers, and the like... and started rushing up the hill. At the same time, the spectral apparition floated down into the pit. Icy, undead claws sprouted from the dirt near Gildras' boots and tried to grope him, but the warlord managed to kick them aside with fear and revulsion, and avoided their deadly grasp.

The gnome's high-pitched and gravely voice could be heard above the chaos, yelling, "Kalarel, fear not. Your treasure is safe in my hands." The spectral image nodded towards its left, as if in response, but none of the companions could see the gnome apart from a tiny swirling dust cloud that marked its passage.

Back up on the road, one of the drakes lunged at Paget, but Bakbuk drew its attention and its teeth snapped together mere inches from the halfling's head. Phoebe summoned and launched a Lance of Faith at the beast, but the drake's powerful, long tail swept it aside and the divine weapon shattered in the dirt. Paget grinned at the cleric and offered up a cocky shrug, but his smile turned into an expression of terror and pain as one of the specter's icy claws emerged from the ground and gripped the rogue's ankle. Flesh withered and cracked, and Paget felt as if his very life was being drained from him.
4E Meta: Those claws are nasty. On a hit they deal instant necrotic damage, and drain the victim of a Healing Surge.
Gildras managed to push Paget out of harm's way by using his Wolf Pack Tactics, but the maneuver unbalanced him and his follow through with his longsword against the lead drake cut nothing but air. Bakbuk, on the other hand, landed a mighty side-swiping Cleave, which smashed into the drake's side just as one of the human rabble was stepping into melee range. The force of Bakbuk's blow knocked the reptile sideways into the rocky landfall, crushing the unfortunate worker between scaly flesh and unyielding stone. The man slumped to the ground, dead, leaving a red, wet smear on the boulder behind him. The dwarf smiled and grunted in satisfaction.

"Nice one!" Paget yelled as he muscled past in an attempt to finish off the wounded drake with a Sly Flourish. The creature went unexpectedly wild, however, and swatted the rogue aside easily with the side of its head. It turned with lightning reflexes and bit down hard. Paget cried out as he felt the bones and tendons in his wrist being crushed in the drake's iron jaws. Suddenly, two glowing beams of energy seemed to come out of the sky and slammed into the lizard's neck, causing it to release its grip on the halfling instantly. Paget looked up, and saw Raxil standing above him on the hillside, wand in hand, and laughing like a school boy. As the drake shuddered one last time, dropped to the ground, and started to slide down the rocky hill--dead--the young wizard raised his arms and victory and declared himself to be "Raxil, the dragon slayer!"

Paget rubbed his sore wrist, and growled "Congratulations, you get an achievement."
DM Note: This is something of a family personal joke, based on WoW's achievement system. Somehow, the standard "grats" that are offered when a player earns a new achievement has leaked into our home life. Whenever someone in our household is overly proud of himself for accomplishing something that might generally be regarded as unimpressive, X will shrug and sarcastically remark, "Congratulations, you get an achievement."
By this time, the remaining three diggers had reached the battle on the road and engaged the heroes in melee with their primitive weapons. As each ducked and dodged, trying to find an advantageous position, blows were traded with Gildras, Bakbuk and Paget. Just about everyone took cuts, scrapes and bruises as the combatants squared off to face one another in earnest.
 

Drazulfel

First Post
Moonday, 27th Anyas, 528 NR, Mid-morning, Part Two


The friends looked about in confusion as, once again, they saw footprints in the dust and heard the gnome's piercing voice cackling in their midst. Still, the creature was not visible to their eyes. Afraid for all of their safety, Phoebe called upon the power of Bahamut and fired off a Beacon of Hope. Immediately, one of the drakes and all three of the remaining human rabble staggered, as if weakened by an unseen force. At the same time, all of the companions--with the exception Raxil, who was outside of the range of the blessing--felt strengthened and rejuvenated. After barely a moment's pause, blades, clubs, and Bakbuk's giant maul were swinging in every conceivable direction as the dwarf, warlord and rogue struggled with the robed riff-raff. Bakbuk and Paget both took wounds, but neither was very severe due to the diggers' divinely weakened state. Nevertheless, the halfling was left bloodied even though he managed to cut down another one of their attackers.

The spectral apparition of Kalarel floated closer to the group and muttered an arcane phrase. Instantly, one of the dead human diggers sprung back to life. The undead creature, with its lifeless eyes, lunged at Bakbuk and slammed him hard on the side of the head. Paget, surprised and frightened by the unexpected and unnatural resurrection of his most recent victim, staggered backwards into the waiting jaws of the remaining drake. Fortunately, the lizard was still under the draining effects of Phoebe's blessing, and was unable to do too much damage.

From his hillside vantage point, Raxil watched the battle beneath him very carefully. Then, it happened! The enemy made a fatal mistake, and bunched up into a cluster. Almost without thinking, the young wizard flung an ignition spark into their midst, which exploded into a powerful Scorching Burst. The risen zombie rotter and both of the living human rabble were consumed by the violent blaze, and fell dead at Bakbuk's feet. The dwarf raised his maul in salute towards Raxil, leaving himself exposed. Without any warning whatsoever, the gnome skulk suddenly materialized at the base of the hill and launched a crossbow bolt straight into Bakbuk's chest. The warrior groaned, and staggered under the force of the blow. Still, Bakbuk stood his ground.

Phoebe bent and lit a Sacred Flame at Paget's feet. The healing fire burst outwards and sealed several of the halfling's wounds, and flooded over the drake's hind side as well, though it failed to do any damage. Angered by the loss of his devotees, but apparently unphased, the apparition of Kalarel drifted up the hill and once again spoke the arcane words which caused another one of the dead diggers to rise from the earth. The mindless creature immediately turned to seek out its first victim. It didn't move far before Bakbuk's maul removed its head from its shoulders with a dull, wet, splat. The digger was dead... again.


Zombie Rotter


Gildras, seeking to take charge and end the battle quickly, raised his sword high above his head and called out to Lead the Attack against the remaining drake. He brought his blade down in a savage slice, and tore a deep gash across the side of the lizard's neck. Paget heeded the tiefling's call, moved into flanking position and tore into the drake with a vision-blurring Trick Strike. The creature reared back and bit Paget hard, but the halfing was able to shake loose and keep his footing. Meanwhile, Raxil--in a nimble maneuver that belied his frail stature--slid down from the safety of his rocky perch and landed on his feet on the road behind Gildras. The wizard drew his hands together, conjured a Scorching Burst, and flung it away from the melee. Phoebe looked confused, until she saw the smile of satisfaction on Raxil's face, and the unparalleled rage on Kalarel's. Her friend had charred the two remaining human corpses, and deprived the specter of his source for undead minions.
DM Note: There isn't really a metagame mechanic that I'm aware of for the destruction of a corpse during combat to prevent a reanimation effect, but this was a clever idea that X came up with all by himself, so I let it happen. Not bad for a 9 year old! I am certain that his little burn-the-body trick affected the outcome of this fight by effectively eliminating 2 enemies before they ever hit the battlefield.
Seeing that things were going badly, the gnome fired a pot-shot from his crossbow towards nobody in particular, turned and ran. To the apparition, he yelled "I will come to you, Kalarel. You will have your artifact! Just hold them off." With that, he scrambled up the hill to where Raxil had stood moments before, and headed north across the open grass.

With the threat of the gnome apparently out of the picture, the party focused its attention on getting rid of the drake, so they could band together against Kalarel's summoned apparition. Phoebe lit another Sacred Flame, this time at the feet of the drake, and its radiant heat seared flesh away from the raging beast at the same time that it warmed Bakbuk and mended his wounds. Gildras spoke an Inspiring Word to the dwarf, bringing his friend back to full health before burying his longsword near to the hilt in the drake's back. Bakbuk, no longer hindered by the pain of his wounds, raised his maul, grunted, and hammered the life out of the drake with a massive Reaping Strike.

The moment the great lizard fell, Paget turned to face the oncoming apparition of Kalarel. The rogue ducked down and brought his twin daggers about in a Sly Flourish, hoping that the specter was substantial enough to wound. The creature swatted Paget aside, reared back, and suddenly transformed. Its face, initially a pale, transparent mockery of a human instantly mutated into a Horrific Visage of terror. With red, glowing eyes, slavering fangs, and a countenance of pure, evil rage, the apparition reared back and let out a shriek that seemed to burst forth from the depths of an open grave. The sound was accompanied by a tangible force that poured over Gildras, Raxil and Phoebe, knocking them all several paces backwards and searing their skin with frigid heat.

Raxil, at the base of the hill behind Kalarel, was protected from the assault. Still, he was terrified by what he had just seen and was eager to put an end to this monster from beyond the grave. The wizard pulled his arms back, and a shimmering arrow of green, glowing liquid streaked to his target and burst in a spray of sizzling acid. The projectile slammed into the specter's back, and the creature arched its spine and wailed in rage. It flailed about, searching for the source of its pain. The rest of the companions shook off their fear and moved back into position, preparing themselves to face this evil head on.
 

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