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Forgotten Realms mini incarnum campaign - Lost Souls
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<blockquote data-quote="Isida Kep'Tukari" data-source="post: 6222319" data-attributes="member: 4441"><p><strong>Session 2</strong></p><p></p><p>When we last left our intrepid heroes, they were below Waterdeep, in the dreaded Undermountain dungeons, in an obscure, trap-laden area apparently oft-ignored by most of the would-be adventurers that ventured into its lethal depths. Having successfully avoided Mort drowning himself to death, the group pressed on. Wending through several more traps, successfully bypassed or disabled, they found in their path a round room. Mort looked inside and then waved the others in. As the last person entered, stone slabs covered both the entrance and the exit and the ceiling began to descend!</p><p></p><p>[Despite several subtle and not-so-subtle inquiries from the DM, Mort’s player did not Search for traps.]</p><p></p><p>Mort frantically tried to stop it, even finding the mechanism, but wasn’t fast enough to disable it before the lowering ceiling covered it from view. Everyone started to panic, thinking they were about to be crushed into paste, when suddenly the ceiling stopped just two feet above the floor. Most of the group was on their bellies, with the gnome wizard Zook crouched on his knees. Two small holes opened up in the remaining space, and out of one flowed an orange-tinted ooze with many crystals suspended in its amorphous body. It began to flow right for Challa. Zook recognized it as a dissolution ooze – it “ate” incarnum, unshaping soulmelds or draining the spirit from those who didn’t have them. Its touch was acidic and deadly, and the group couldn’t run. Everyone was at an advantage, being prone, and there was nowhere to hide. Everyone got ready to defend themselves as best they were able. </p><p></p><p>Zook gestured languidly and his magic seized the ooze, slowing it as if it were molasses on a Midwinter’s midnight. Scarcely able to move now, the ooze still tried to squirm towards them. The rest of the group inchwormed forward and attacked with great caution – with hammer and sword, bow and spell. With the ooze slowed, it was only able to get in few attacks on Challa, who was able to resist its attempt to feed on her soulmelds, before the group attacked it to death.</p><p></p><p>In the watery remains of its body, the found several crystals and a few minor ioun stones left behind. The trap reset itself and Mort was able to figure out the mechanism. Actually, the partially set trap with the doors shut made a good place to rest, so the group camped there for the night, and went on their way the next day. </p><p></p><p>Carrying on, the corridors became colder and damper, smelling faintly of corruption with the taint of evil. Their path led them to a large doorway leading to a much bigger room, the whole of the entryway filled with a glowing blue mist. Mistrusting it, Amaranth sent Bob (her soulspark familiar, so called because he bobs along) through to scout. Bob came racing back moments later, hysterically blinking in their Morse-code-esque language. It talked about “things in there,” three small, one large, that had their “natures switched.” He couldn’t be consoled, and the group readied themselves to check it out. Amaranth suggested Challa go through first. Challa, never needing a reason to hold back, charged through, briefly glowing blue around her shoulders and feet before breaking through. (Everyone knew Challa had soulmelds shaped on her shoulders and feet.)</p><p></p><p>As the blue mist didn’t seem to fell her, the rest of the group hurried through one by one, their soulmelds or invested essential seeming to protect them from being corrupted by the incarnum mist and becoming a lost. Challa was swearing oaths of disgust as the others broke through, and they could soon see why. This vast room had three huge vines along the ceiling and walls, with long tendrils and thick leaves, but horribly what should have been a plant was instead rendered in flesh and bone and cartilage. Past that stood a huge, three-armed giant, an athach, seemingly made of thorny brambles. Along the floor were many bodies, presumably of other adventurers, ripped asunder and the bits scattered everywhere.</p><p></p><p>Challa had charged right at the thorny athach, but missed her usually devastating thundering charge. The athach pulled a huge thorn from its body, holding it like a dagger, and unwound a whip of brambles from around its waist. Zook took one look at that and again gestured languidly, slowing the horrible thing so it would do less harm. Avandar, Mort, and Amaranth laid into the flesh-vines with claws, rapier, and acidic spittle respectively, while Zook flung magic missiles at them. The vines picked up the body parts and began to hurl them at the group while the athach picked up Challa and slammed her against its thorny body. </p><p></p><p>The fight was furiously joined, with Mort and Avandar joining Challa in cutting the athach down to size, while Zook and Amaranth burned the vines apart with magic and acid. The athach would not go quietly, continuing to try to crush Challa against his body, and the vines healed almost like a flesh creature as they kept up their assault of flung body parts. Curiously, whenever one of the vines died, part of a blue glass bottle slipped from their corpses. Beginning to realize something extra odd was going on, they watched closely when they athach finally fell to their combined assault. While the vines had each yielded one-third of a bottle, the athach yielded a whole one.</p><p></p><p>The group realized that Bob’s words about “switched natures” was literal, as some had switched the soul of the thorny vine with the fleshy athach, which accounted for their odd behavior in battle. (Vines tend to constrict, not throw things. Giants like the athach throw things, not crush people to them.) The group wrapped up the bottles separately and then began to search for clues as to who could have done this horrible thing and where they were getting that power…</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Isida Kep'Tukari, post: 6222319, member: 4441"] [b]Session 2[/b] When we last left our intrepid heroes, they were below Waterdeep, in the dreaded Undermountain dungeons, in an obscure, trap-laden area apparently oft-ignored by most of the would-be adventurers that ventured into its lethal depths. Having successfully avoided Mort drowning himself to death, the group pressed on. Wending through several more traps, successfully bypassed or disabled, they found in their path a round room. Mort looked inside and then waved the others in. As the last person entered, stone slabs covered both the entrance and the exit and the ceiling began to descend! [Despite several subtle and not-so-subtle inquiries from the DM, Mort’s player did not Search for traps.] Mort frantically tried to stop it, even finding the mechanism, but wasn’t fast enough to disable it before the lowering ceiling covered it from view. Everyone started to panic, thinking they were about to be crushed into paste, when suddenly the ceiling stopped just two feet above the floor. Most of the group was on their bellies, with the gnome wizard Zook crouched on his knees. Two small holes opened up in the remaining space, and out of one flowed an orange-tinted ooze with many crystals suspended in its amorphous body. It began to flow right for Challa. Zook recognized it as a dissolution ooze – it “ate” incarnum, unshaping soulmelds or draining the spirit from those who didn’t have them. Its touch was acidic and deadly, and the group couldn’t run. Everyone was at an advantage, being prone, and there was nowhere to hide. Everyone got ready to defend themselves as best they were able. Zook gestured languidly and his magic seized the ooze, slowing it as if it were molasses on a Midwinter’s midnight. Scarcely able to move now, the ooze still tried to squirm towards them. The rest of the group inchwormed forward and attacked with great caution – with hammer and sword, bow and spell. With the ooze slowed, it was only able to get in few attacks on Challa, who was able to resist its attempt to feed on her soulmelds, before the group attacked it to death. In the watery remains of its body, the found several crystals and a few minor ioun stones left behind. The trap reset itself and Mort was able to figure out the mechanism. Actually, the partially set trap with the doors shut made a good place to rest, so the group camped there for the night, and went on their way the next day. Carrying on, the corridors became colder and damper, smelling faintly of corruption with the taint of evil. Their path led them to a large doorway leading to a much bigger room, the whole of the entryway filled with a glowing blue mist. Mistrusting it, Amaranth sent Bob (her soulspark familiar, so called because he bobs along) through to scout. Bob came racing back moments later, hysterically blinking in their Morse-code-esque language. It talked about “things in there,” three small, one large, that had their “natures switched.” He couldn’t be consoled, and the group readied themselves to check it out. Amaranth suggested Challa go through first. Challa, never needing a reason to hold back, charged through, briefly glowing blue around her shoulders and feet before breaking through. (Everyone knew Challa had soulmelds shaped on her shoulders and feet.) As the blue mist didn’t seem to fell her, the rest of the group hurried through one by one, their soulmelds or invested essential seeming to protect them from being corrupted by the incarnum mist and becoming a lost. Challa was swearing oaths of disgust as the others broke through, and they could soon see why. This vast room had three huge vines along the ceiling and walls, with long tendrils and thick leaves, but horribly what should have been a plant was instead rendered in flesh and bone and cartilage. Past that stood a huge, three-armed giant, an athach, seemingly made of thorny brambles. Along the floor were many bodies, presumably of other adventurers, ripped asunder and the bits scattered everywhere. Challa had charged right at the thorny athach, but missed her usually devastating thundering charge. The athach pulled a huge thorn from its body, holding it like a dagger, and unwound a whip of brambles from around its waist. Zook took one look at that and again gestured languidly, slowing the horrible thing so it would do less harm. Avandar, Mort, and Amaranth laid into the flesh-vines with claws, rapier, and acidic spittle respectively, while Zook flung magic missiles at them. The vines picked up the body parts and began to hurl them at the group while the athach picked up Challa and slammed her against its thorny body. The fight was furiously joined, with Mort and Avandar joining Challa in cutting the athach down to size, while Zook and Amaranth burned the vines apart with magic and acid. The athach would not go quietly, continuing to try to crush Challa against his body, and the vines healed almost like a flesh creature as they kept up their assault of flung body parts. Curiously, whenever one of the vines died, part of a blue glass bottle slipped from their corpses. Beginning to realize something extra odd was going on, they watched closely when they athach finally fell to their combined assault. While the vines had each yielded one-third of a bottle, the athach yielded a whole one. The group realized that Bob’s words about “switched natures” was literal, as some had switched the soul of the thorny vine with the fleshy athach, which accounted for their odd behavior in battle. (Vines tend to constrict, not throw things. Giants like the athach throw things, not crush people to them.) The group wrapped up the bottles separately and then began to search for clues as to who could have done this horrible thing and where they were getting that power… [/QUOTE]
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