[FR] Heroes of the Vilhon Reach I

[Broccli_Head]

2 Nightal, 1372 Into the Pit!

They topped the hill and peered over the edge of the bluff. An entrance, guarded by four orcs gaped in the hillside. Thirty feet across a small dell huge evergreens rose out from the darkness. They decided to repel down the wall. Nosr removed his shoes and muttered an incantation. Then as Benito followed by Grim, Ellysidell, and Aris (after warning the tied-up prisoner to not run away) climbed down on the rope as stealthily as possible, Nosr walked horizontally next to them. Forty feet up, Nosr accidentally kicked over a small rock. The noise echoed through the valley. The orcs looked up and began crying an alarm.

"Well lads, I guess the jig is up," said Benito as he let go of the rope and attempted to drop on the guards.

Benito smashed hard into his foe and yelled in pain as he felt the orc's sword pierce his side. The orc did not rise, it too pierced with a sword and its head smashed on the ground. Benito rolled away from the tangle of arms and legs. Grim followed the crazy cleric but with much more grace, pushing himself from the rock and "bouncing" close to the wall face to land cat-like on the ledge, unharmed. He drew his sword and grinned. Benito looked over and marvelled at the acrobatic feat. Ellysidell seeing his companions' successes attempted to do the same and landed on his orc crushing it as well. The other two orcs attacked. Ellysidell rolled away from his adversary and sparks flew as the orc's greataxe struck the stone of the ledge. Benito managed to block a sword slash with his shield while rising to one knee.

Arrows from the trees across the vale flew into the melee. One struck Aris as he made his way down the rope as quickly as he could. Benito swung in the near darkness and slipped awkwardly on one of the broken bodies of the two dead orcs striking Ellysidell in the back. The barbarian yelped in surprise, made sure that Benito was not an orc, and then struck the two enemies in front of him with a mighty slash of his mithral waraxe that disembowled them both. Grim returned fire into the trees while Aris dropped to the ground and unstrung his bow More arrows clattered around the heroes, one striking Ellysidell. Nosr searched desparately for the foes hoping his superior vision would spot the bad guys.

Benito seeing the the other heroes were pre-occupied in an exchange of missle fire, summoned a fire worm and sent it scooting into the entrance. The creature came upon two orcs forcing them to retreat and attempting to fire as they go. One of the orcs met a firey demise as he lowered his defenses to bring his bow to bear while the other mangaged to back-pedal a little quicker and tag the elemental creature with an arrow.
Nosr found a archer in the trees and shot him down with magic missles. The other archer returned fire but only managed to hit the body of one of his former Zhent companions, now being used as a make-shift barricade by Aris, Ellysidell and Grim.

The thoqqua and Benito followed the retreating orc, which again fired and struck the worm with an arrow. The smell of burning flesh and haze of smoke filled the corridor that the creature of fire squirmed down. It tripped a trap of bolts, however that blasted into its para-elemental hide sending it back from where it came. Benito, angered at the quick defeat charged down the orc and also triggered the trap, getting hit by a few bolts. The orc feebly tried to block with its bow, failed and was run through with Benito's magical longsword. As the Zhent crumpled to the ground, two more bow-wielding orcs showed themselves. Seeing an alcove to his right, Benito ducked quickly in to avoid being an easy target in an open corridor. The floor fell from beneath him and waves of pain filled his vision as he struck spikes at the bottom of a pit. He cried out for help to the other heroes....

They had finally cleared the archer at their back and followed the cleric into the corridor. Nosr saw him duck into the alcove and heard him cry out. Upside down and on the ceiling the sorcerer released energy from his fingertips ripping through one of the archers. The return fire was futile and Grim downed the last visible orc with a crossbow bolt. Lowering his goggles, he then stealthily crept to the alcove and looked down to see Benito healing sitting down about 30 ft in darkness performing some healing on himself. Grim began lowering a rope as the others began to catch up, missle weapons ready. Nosr walked upside-down and watched as the heroes pulled the cleric from the pit. Orcish (and other ?) shouts echoed somewhere in the complex and Grim peered ahead--a long corridor ending in a door with another blind corner halfway.

Lovely, he thought to no one in particular. We are walking right into their web.

Nodding to the others, he rearmed his crossbow, pulled up his hood, and disappeared into the shadows to do what Grim did best....

 

[Broccli_Head]

Between the Lines:
As well as changing the Himrak into Zhentish trained orcs from the Stonelands, I changed the secret organization that Dagotha and Aif run into a cell of Night Masks working in the Turmish region. Farming is a great front. And this pushes my metaplot in great directions. Recall that Nosr is from the Dragon Coast (Starmantle).

There definitely was a lot of tension when Aif 'entered' Grim's mind. Grim is the only one who really knows what the Night Mask said and he freaked, not wanting a repeat of the Succubus Incident (see above) where he was charmed and struck his boss.

Benito made some key diplomacy rolls but could not tell whether or not Aif was bluffing him. He seemed trustworthy. Kudos to Aris's character for finally telling the prisoner what he wanted to hear (with no rolls just flat out rpg'ing!). The reprucussions of settting Aif free have not felt themselves. There may be a rift in the party. However, DM foreknowledge tells me that seemingly unscrupulous alliances will be beneficial in the long run.

There was some treasure gained as the orcs had piled a bunch of items in one of the rooms in the farm house. In fact, Ellysidell spied a finely crafted greataxe with a darkwood handle that he could add to his collection of two-handed weapons. There was also an iron chest that Grim refused to open so it was left closed for the time being.

Aif is/was a doppleganger with some rogue and assassin levels.

Aris also let him take a magical longsword from the impressive stash of weapons that the Night Masks had accumulated.

Benito's move into the alcove and subsequent drop into the pit was justified (after some deliberation and an accusation of DM-trickery) because he used his 5-ft step.

We also don't know if Alberia and Milo will make it to Alaghon....

Oh and for the overall metaplot of my campaign, I finally figured out what really happened to Dorthan!

 

[Broccli_Head]

Mourn's Tale

Some days earlier

Mourn was very pleased. Tonight he had given an intense performance to a very generous audience. The best combination. He counted his earnings. Profits for the Great Axe were growing so he knew also that Aris would be happy when the Heroes returned. He was going to have to think of another, more epic name for his former adventuring companions. The Company of the Great Axe? No, that really didn't fit. Plus, he did not need another reminder of his unfortunate demise. Looking up at the Great Axe behind the bar caused him to wince now and again.

Mourn continued to count out the money on a stool at the bar. He had sent the others home and only young Percival, the stablehand and gopher, stayed to finish the cleaning here in the common room and behind the bar. Too bad there was only one occupant tonight, some noble from Mulhorand who had liked his playing (and had given handsomely) and wanted to get away from the city. He needed to talk to Aris about a bigger advertising budget.

His ears detected some movement near the door, and the portal swung open letting in the crisp and cool Marponeth air. Curious, I thought I had locked the door.

"Sorry we're closed. Please come back tommorrow," Mourn said, stifling a pretend yawn and trying to be pleasant, to the six hooded and green-cloaked figures that entered the common room.

They removed their hoods more or less in unison. Moon elves!.
Mourn looked at them curiously, "May I help you? If you're looking for rooms--"

Their leader interrupted, "We seek Invilos Starym. Can he be found here?"

Mourn replied his eyes narrowing, "There is no one here by that name. That person is dead. He perished long ago..."

Percy stopped scrubbing behind the bar. Mourn motioned him to leave out the back door and through the kicthen.

The leader smirked and sounding bored replied,"Do not be coy with me, Goldilocks." He folded his arms, "Irilivar Celevessin is not to be trifled with. For the record, I can tell that he will resist arrest. Beat him soundly."

He motioned for his companions to surround Mourn and removed a scroll from the folds of his cloak.

"Invilios Starym, you are under arrest by order of the Council of Evereska and authority of Queen Aulmaril for treason against the rulers of Evermeet and elven kind," he read. Lowering the scroll, he added,"You will come with us to stand trial for your crimes. I shall enjoy this, traitor."

Mourn motioned to the stableboy more urgently and mouthed, "Get the militia!"

Percy bolted, Mourn drew his rapier, and vaulted behind the bar. He stabbed at a moon elf who passed him to attempt to intercept the boy. Percy ran off into the night towards the lights of the city.
The rest of the elves surrounded Mourn with drawn longswords and began to swing at the bard. "We want him alive. Do not kill him."

Some of the elves obeyed and others did not also calling Mourn a traitor and smugly smiling as they tore into his fine clothes with their weapons, some drawing blood. Mourn remembered instinctively some of his training with Aris and his own survival skills and sought escape through the kitchen. Repeatedly he was struck, but managed to get outside, where the cold air revived him somewhat. However the elves pursued and surrounded him again. He danced and blocked with his rapier to avoid the attacks and struck back on occasion. He saw that it was hopeless, but he would go down fighting.

Irilivar sighed in his bored way and walked around to the back of the inn. "Incompetents," he commented on his men seeing that the renegade had not yet been downed.

Blowing first on his fingernails, he then drew his longsword and smashed Mourn on the head with the pommel. Mourn's world swam on the edge of consciousness, still sinking fast into oblivion he heard the leader speak.

"You two, Bind him well and wrap him so that the authorities will not suspect our cargo. You and you, see if there are any patrons staying here. Rouse them and warn them to leave as we torch the place. I will leave a few surprises for the militia and Mourn's friends. You, start lighting the place up. We do not have much time."

"No, not the inn..," Mourn mouthed and received a kick for his troubles. The world went black.

The elves set about their purpose. Irilivar and one of his companions began tossing alchemist's fire at the inn. Then the bounty hunter went to set his surprises on the stable and other outbuildings.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Enter Thazar-de

Still at the Great Axe Inn--An unexpected guest...

Thazar-de was roused from his sleep by a banging on the door. Who dares? he thought. It had best not be Krell or Mankalla having a change of heart..

Muttering as he went to the door,"That is why I came out here in the first place."

But he also smelled smoke. He called upon his god to provide him with his typical method to deal with underlings. An almost imperceptible aura of blackness covered his hand and he opened the door. He stared at the two elves who stood at his door. Their eyes widended. Thazar-de chuckled, "Ahh, I forgot to put on my turban."

He smiled at the elves revealing sharp teeth. Before they could act and draw weapons, Thazar-de touched one on the shoulder with his glowing clawed hand. Gaping Wounds appeared suddenly across the elf's arms, face and neck. The elf screamed and collapsed to the ground, very dead. His companion ran and Thazar-de took his time summoning an ally from the elemental planes to chase down the stupid elf. He saw that the inn was starting to burn and went downstairs. His xorn stood guard and he looked out the windows to see another couple of elves stealing around the compound of the inn. He did not see the wonderful minstrel or any of the employees anywhere.

Thazar-de retreated back to his room to gather his things as the inn began to burn around him. The heat did not phase him as he went back to the blazing common room and heard horses ride off. Then another idea struck him! Why not keep the inn? Alaghon needed a shrine to his god in any case and his mission to Hlondeth could be delayed. She should come and pay respects to me, anyway. I was touched first.

He used his divine power to quench the fire. Plans needed to be set in motion. He had some contacts in the city to move the transfer of ownership along quickly since there was now no one to claim this property. He checked the outlying buildings, opened the stable door and was blasted by and explosion of fire. He laughed. The petty elves had left some traps for Minstrel Mourn's friends, but they did not account for the bard's new favorite fan. The priest was unharmed.

He went back to the body of the slain elf and forced its spirit to tell him what had happened. The tortured soul could not resist and Thazar-de decided to let this spirit know that it would become one of his undead minions in his new shrine. The elf's spirit moaned. The priest laughed. What a fortuitous night! What glory for Set!

He heard armed men approaching and went to meet them, this time placing on his turban. His fiendish form changed to that of an olive- skinned native of Mulorhand--he had to keep half his culture visible after all. The militia arrived with the stableboy and Thazar-de explained what had happened showing them the elf he had slain in defense and the explosion at the stable. The other buildings--the forge and the lab, he learned--would have to wait. Things went smoothly, the militia seemed satisfied, and Thazar-de even comforted the young lad for his loss.

The militia made to leave and the priest sent with them messages (after a small donation to their retirement fund) to Krell and Mankalla to join him immdediately. He doubted that he would not see them until tommorrow after a night of carousing in the capital. He placed his arm on the boy's shoulder and waved thanks to the "Turmites" as they rode away. The boy shuddered at his touch and T-d smiled reassuringly to him. Minion number two....

 

[Broccli_Head]

2 Nightal, 1372 Flight to the Ford

Alberia spurred Slovack onward through the night. She led three other horses and their riders, galloping at a break-neck pace to reach Alaghon by morning. Already, she knew that her a Milo were fatigued and the horses soon would be. Some of the mounts would die from exhaustion. Of that she was certain. Hopefully, Slovack, old as he was, would remain steady. Froth gathered at his bit and flecks of sweat beaded and shown on his coat. Yet he did not waver, nor did the horses that he led as they tore through along the old road through the woods.

Milo, depleted of energy, struggeld to stay awake. Although healed of his wound, his shoulder was still stiff. He peeked forward on occasion around his animal's neck to see if Leo still held tight to his horse. He also peered back once in a while to see the unconscious form of the orc bouncing around, still attached. Hopefully, Grim had secured their prisoner well. From what he knew of the Tyrite priests at the Temple of Justice, they would require proof of an invasion to send aid. Turmish was sure a different place, he thought. In Raven's Bluff there was definitely less of that slow bureaucratic style on all levels.

After what seemed like an eternity, the company broke from the trees onto level-meadow like terrain. The sliver of a moon had already set long ago and it was still pitch black. The plan was to make the ford by dawn and Alaghon by noon. Slovack breathed heavy but kept on pushing. What an amazing horse! thought Alberia, It's as if you actually care about what happens to Leo also..

As best she could,given the circumstances, she lovingly caressed Slovack's neck. She snapped herself from her contemplations as several copses of trees loomed ahead and then a darker ribbon in the dark night. The river was near! Beyond that she saw even blacker and starker shadows, the ruins of Morningstar Hollow.

Tyr, I know you are a just god. Please keep us free from hazards from the ruin. Help us to get to Alaghon safely and quickly.

The hazards that galloped from the trees were not of the ruin. Mounted and armed humanoids rode towards the group to intercept. As they entered the range of her Tyr-gifted darkvison she saw six riders, more orcs with longswords drawn heading toward her and Milo. Further back, footmen sprinted from the trees.

"No time! We don't have time for this!" Alberia yelled into the night.

It was difficult for Milo to concentrate from the jostling back of the horse. If they could make the ford, maybe the water would slow down the horses enough so he could mind blast the Zhentarim. He dreaded depleting his body of precious life energy to do so...he could be sapped so much that he would not be able to hold on to his horse. He saw Alberia and Slovack drop back to his position.

"Keep going! Get across the river!" he heard her scream. Slovack snorted right after, seemingly echoing the sentiment.

The horses seemed to obey her and he did not resist. His own horse bolted ahead of the group. He craned his head back and saw her draw her longsword, a bright gleam in the darkness and crash Slovack into the lead rider. He was startled and whooped, as he heard splashes. The river came up quickly and the ruin that lay across and to the north was very eerie indeed. The water was very cold. He still could not concentrate.

Alberia struck the lead rider and sparks flew as divine might blasted the orc. He grunted, arms flying back as she struck him between the shoulder blades. The orc toppled from his horse. Putting the now riderless mount between her and the others, she guided Slovack back towards the river somewhere between a gallop and a canter. The obstacle delayed the riders slightly and they fanned around gaining ground on Alberia. Slovack was tired. She knew that slow down had hurt him. She heard the whinnies of the horses in front and splashes as they crossed. Slovack hit the water with the Zhentilar orcs right behind. They drew weapons and closed. She turned her horse to engage.

"Milo keep going!"

Steel clashed against steel and the sound rang out in the night mixed in with orcish grunts, splashes and Alberia's war cries. They surrounded her and she saw the orcish footmen not too far away. She slashed at the orc barring her path and cut him, but he did not fall. Slashes at her back found chinks in her armor and she bit down to not scream out. Slovack shuddered. She couldn't let him fall. Alberia cast some of her healing magic on her loyal beast and was not rewarded by the Zhents. Seeing her let down her guard, they struck and two connected. More pain from her side and more slick blood down her arms. She attacked the riders in front of her--only injuring, but not slaying either--to allow a path for her escape.

Milo and the rest bounded up the far bank on horseback and the savant paused to look back,trying to slow the horses. His heart fell. Alberia was trapped. He hesitated and looked at Leo. The boy was hanging on to his existence as a human. Then he heard a distinct croaking sound and splashes from his side of the bank. Large, possibly humanoid shapes slunk into the river from some of the ruined buildings to his left. That was enough to spur his own mount harder. Alberia's sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Let's go! Her god will watch over her!"

Mentally, he whispered that the all-seer would not close his eyes on her as well, and headed southeast towards the coast.
Alberia fought hard, felling one of her adversaries but still suffering from the onslaught of the other calvary. Then she heard porcine squeals, and the guttural croaks of several large creatures. Sudden confusion showed on the face of the orc that blocked her path and there was a splash and an equine scream behind her as one of the orcs at her back fell from his horse and fell into the water. She took advantage and calling upon her final divine might, blasted the orc across the chest, sundering his armor and the sternum beneath. He toppled into the river and began to float downstream. Not waiting to see who her unexpected allies were and hearing the sounds of battle behind her she kicked her heels into Slovack who happily obliged and sped forward across the river. Out of her peripheral vision she saw more large, vaguely humanoid shapes rise from the frigid water around her, but she did not pause to get a better look. The gods had smiled upon her enough already, why test them some more!

Slovack crested the bank and slowed a little, catching his breath. Snorting, he shook his head and began to trot forward, then canter. Alberia did not look back.....
=======
Shortly, they caught up to the rest of the party. They made Alaghon without incident. Ignoring sentries and being in a haze anyway, they groggily made their way towards the Temple of Justice. Alberia slumped over on her horse, unable to speak, as she entered the courtyard pointing towards her companions. Milo related the information as best he could as his horse collapsed beneath him. The other two horses would also have to be put down as they crashed to the ground. Priests rushed all around. Milo helped his favorite heroine from the mighty Slovack who limped over to the nearest stall without waiting for any grooms and slumped to the ground, breathing heavily. He saw Leo whisked away by several priests. Other, more militant looking clerics dragged away the Zhent prisoner. The fatigued pair was led away to chambers to rest as they heard alarms being raised. Mission accomplished on this end. Hopefully, Tymora smiled on the rest of their companions......

 

[Broccli_Head]

Flight!

2 Nightal, 1372 Flight to the Ford

Alberia spurred Slovack onward through the night. She led three other horses and their riders, galloping at a break-neck pace to reach Alaghon by morning. Already, she knew that her a Milo were fatigued and the horses soon would be. Some of the mounts would die from exhaustion. Of that she was certain. Hopefully, Slovack, old as he was, would remain steady. Froth gathered at his bit and flecks of sweat beaded and shown on his coat. Yet he did not waver, nor did the horses that he led as they tore through along the old road through the woods.

Milo, depleted of energy, struggeld to stay awake. Although healed of his wound, his shoulder was still stiff. He peeked forward on occasion around his animal's neck to see if Leo still held tight to his horse. He also peered back once in a while to see the unconscious form of the orc bouncing around, still attached. Hopefully, Grim had secured their prisoner well. From what he knew of the Tyrite priests at the Temple of Justice, they would require proof of an invasion to send aid. Turmish was sure a different place, he thought. In Raven's Bluff there was definitely less of that slow bureaucratic style on all levels.

After what seemed like an eternity, the company broke from the trees onto level-meadow like terrain. The sliver of a moon had already set long ago and it was still pitch black. The plan was to make the ford by dawn and Alaghon by noon. Slovack breathed heavy but kept on pushing. What an amazing horse! thought Alberia, It's as if you actually care about what happens to Leo also..

As best she could,given the circumstances, she lovingly caressed Slovack's neck. She snapped herself from her contemplations as several copses of trees loomed ahead and then a darker ribbon in the dark night. The river was near! Beyond that she saw even blacker and starker shadows, the ruins of Morningstar Hollow.

Tyr, I know you are a just god. Please keep us free from hazards from the ruin. Help us to get to Alaghon safely and quickly.

The hazards that galloped from the trees were not of the ruin. Mounted and armed humanoids rode towards the group to intercept. As they entered the range of her Tyr-gifted darkvison she saw six riders, more orcs with longswords drawn heading toward her and Milo. Further back, footmen sprinted from the trees.

"No time! We don't have time for this!" Alberia yelled into the night.

It was difficult for Milo to concentrate from the jostling back of the horse. If they could make the ford, maybe the water would slow down the horses enough so he could mind blast the Zhentarim. He dreaded depleting his body of precious life energy to do so...he could be sapped so much that he would not be able to hold on to his horse. He saw Alberia and Slovack drop back to his position.

"Keep going! Get across the river!" he heard her scream. Slovack snorted right after, seemingly echoing the sentiment.

The horses seemed to obey her and he did not resist. His own horse bolted ahead of the group. He craned his head back and saw her draw her longsword, a bright gleam in the darkness and crash Slovack into the lead rider. He was startled and whooped, as he heard splashes. The river came up quickly and the ruin that lay across and to the north was very eerie indeed. The water was very cold. He still could not concentrate.

Alberia struck the lead rider and sparks flew as divine might blasted the orc. He grunted, arms flying back as she struck him between the shoulder blades. The orc toppled from his horse. Putting the now riderless mount between her and the others, she guided Slovack back towards the river somewhere between a gallop and a canter. The obstacle delayed the riders slightly and they fanned around gaining ground on Alberia. Slovack was tired. She knew that slow down had hurt him. She heard the whinnies of the horses in front and splashes as they crossed. Slovack hit the water with the Zhentilar orcs right behind. They drew weapons and closed. She turned her horse to engage.

"Milo keep going!"

Steel clashed against steel and the sound rang out in the night mixed in with orcish grunts, splashes and Alberia's war cries. They surrounded her and she saw the orcish footmen not too far away. She slashed at the orc barring her path and cut him, but he did not fall. Slashes at her back found chinks in her armor and she bit down to not scream out. Slovack shuddered. She couldn't let him fall. Alberia cast some of her healing magic on her loyal beast and was not rewarded by the Zhents. Seeing her let down her guard, they struck and two connected. More pain from her side and more slick blood down her arms. She attacked the riders in front of her--only injuring, but not slaying either--to allow a path for her escape.

Milo and the rest bounded up the far bank on horseback and the savant paused to look back,trying to slow the horses. His heart fell. Alberia was trapped. He hesitated and looked at Leo. The boy was hanging on to his existence as a human. Then he heard a distinct croaking sound and splashes from his side of the bank. Large, possibly humanoid shapes slunk into the river from some of the ruined buildings to his left. That was enough to spur his own mount harder. Alberia's sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Let's go! Her god will watch over her!"

Mentally, he whispered that the all-seer would not close his eyes on her as well, and headed southeast towards the coast.

Alberia fought hard, felling one of her adversaries but still suffering from the onslaught of the other calvary. Then she heard porcine squeals, and the guttural croaks of several large creatures. Sudden confusion showed on the face of the orc that blocked her path and there was a splash and an equine scream behind her as one of the orcs at her back fell from his horse and fell into the water. She took advantage and calling upon her final divine might, blasted the orc across the chest, sundering his armor and the sternum beneath. He toppled into the river and began to float downstream. Not waiting to see who her unexpected allies were and hearing the sounds of battle behind her she kicked her heels into Slovack who happily obliged and sped forward across the river. Out of her peripheral vision she saw more large, vaguely humanoid shapes rise from the frigid water around her, but she did not pause to get a better look. The gods had smiled upon her enough already, why test them some more!

Slovack crested the bank and slowed a little, catching his breath. Snorting, he shook his head and began to trot forward, then canter. Alberia did not look back.....
=======

Shortly, they caught up to the rest of the party. They made Alaghon without incident. Ignoring sentries and being in a haze anyway, they groggily made their way towards the Temple of Justice. Alberia slumped over on her horse, unable to speak, as she entered the courtyard pointing towards her companions. Milo related the information as best he could as his horse collapsed beneath him. The other two horses would also have to be put down as they crashed to the ground. Priests rushed all around. Milo helped his favorite heroine from the mighty Slovack who limped over to the nearest stall without waiting for any grooms and slumped to the ground, breathing heavily. He saw Leo whisked away by several priests. Other, more militant looking clerics dragged away the Zhent prisoner. The fatigued pair was led away to chambers to rest as they heard alarms being raised. Mission accomplished on this end. Hopefully, Tymora smiled on the rest of their companions......

 

[Broccli_Head]

Wolves...

2 Nightal, 1372 , A rock and a hard place

This post was originally written by malachai_rose:

Benito quickly scurried up the rope that Grim had lowered for him observing that the rest of his friends appeared to have escaped any serious injury as they began their assauly on the temple. Well nothing as serious as what those spikes had done Benito reflected, as he winced slightly at the still too fresh memory of the spikes ripping open his flesh. As they regrouped Benito asked Grim to scout ahead, realizing that the stealthy halfling would respond ill to any request made by Aris. As they waited for Grim's report Ellysidell noticed that Aris was amazingly quiet, even for him. Trying to strike up a conversation with his friend, the wood elf was met with simple one word answers and at other times silence as his dark skinned friend brooded over recent events. Aris was baffled he couldn't understand how Grim could harbor such animosity over a decision which in Aris mind had very likely saved his life. Benito questioning his every move, Grim leterally turning his back on him, Nosr's recent spats of insubordanace. These were all offenses that would warrant strict and harsh discipline back where he was from but, as he thought to himself, they werent back in Tethyr or Cormyr where things made sense and soldiers followed orders. No this was Turmish where discipline and structure were evidently unheard of. They wanted to question his every move and not trust his intentions, fine let Benito lead this party and then we'll see how far they get, Aris thought silently. Realizing that his friend was deep in thought Ellysidell shrugged his shoulders and turned back towards the group just in time to see Grim slink back into eyesight.

"Two just ahead at the side passage, they are waiting with bows nocked and ready"

Turning towards Aris, Benito waited a moment expecting the genasai warrior to determine the groups next course of action but after a few tense silent moments it became clear that Aris was beset by the same malady that currently infected Ellysedells little brother. What was wrong with them the young alcolyte reflected. Could they not put aside their differences long enough to save a nation. Not just any nation Benito mused but his nation, a nation of proud warriors and fervent priests. Baffled but determined to not let this viscious malady overcome him as well, Benito steeled his reslove as he turned back towards the moody halfling.

"Grim, take this flask of alchemist fire and move back towards the corner around which the orcs lie in wait. Me and Ellysedell will notch our bows and on my word throw the fire around the coner where they stand. As soon as we see the burst of flame the wood elf and I will sweep around the corner quickly dispatching the fiends."

Realizing that perhaps he had overstepped his bounds as the parties resident healer Benito quietly looked to the rest of the group his steely gaze never waivering. As his eyes met each one in turn a mutual understanding of the situations gravity passed between them and each nodded in turn, with the lone exceptions of Grim who merely took the vial from his hand and Aris who had uncharacteristically moved towards the back of the party and would not meet his gaze.

"I am with you priest, but let us finish this matter quickly"

Ellysedell said in a voice that was both reserved yet seemingly briming with a quiet anger at the rock (Grim) and hard place (Aris) that he found himslef wedged between. Each one pressuring him to choose which was something he was loathe to do as both held places of honor and significance for the barbarian. With the S.O.P. temporarily ammended the Heroes turned weapons drawn towards the corridor that held their fate. Grim with his body pressed against the side of the hallway looked back towards Benito, alchemist fire in hand. Giving a lone nod in return Grim quickly flung the vial of liquid fire around the corner. Ellysedell and Benito both responding simultaneousley by springing around the corner bows nocked. As the two warriors flung themselves around the blind corner the realized that Grims aim had been less than perfect, far less. Not only had the halfling doused the first orc in flame he also had managed to somehow catch himself on fire as well. The flask having fallen short of its original target had left the other orc untouched as well as a third archer who set a little further back escaped the fire along with his bretheren. Untouched by the flames both orcs let their arrows fly. The first glancing off of Benitos breastplate the second struck a truer mark embedding itself deep in the flesh of the barbarians shoulder. Seemingly made of stone the elf didn't so much as flinch as he and Benito let their arrows fly in unision each finding their targets. Gurgling on his own blood the first orc dropped grasping at the arrow that had found his heart. The second orc was unable to even gurgle as he opened his mouth to scream in alarm and found the second arrow lodged firmly in the place his vocal cords should have been, blood flowing freely from his mouth like some gruesome courtyard fountain. As they notched another arrow Nosr scurried above their heads the effects of the spider climb spell apparently still in full force.

"Don't worry guys I have this end of the hall covered"

Nosr called out as he passed by them, all the time watching the original corridor as Benito and the woodland duo covered the side passage that the orcs had occupied untill a few moments ago. Finally letting his hatred for the Zhents overcome his feelings for the others Aris also rushed past them taking a spot ten feet past with his bow nocked as well. The smell of charred orc flesh wafted through the passage as Grim hastily put his arm out. Looking past the three dead beasts Grim and the others saw an Iron door with a small slit that could be opened up from the other side.

"Grim do you think that you can find a way to open the door", Bentio asked.

Simply shrugging his shoulders, Grim pulled out a set of tools and looked at the door a moment deciding the best approach before diving headlong into the task. Suddenly Benito felt a flash of seering heat wash over him as a ball of flames errupted around where Aris had been. Turning his bow quickly Ellysidell and Benito saw that an orc had apparently popped around the corner at the far end of the passageway that Nosr had been watching and flung a flask of ignited lamp oil at Aris and the spider like sorcerer. Aris' bow had let loose with Nosr's crossbow less than a second behind as both their bolts struck true pincushioning the hapless orc before he could do anymore damage. Yet as soon as he had fallen three other orcs, bows drawn, had appeared to take his place retaliating with their own volley of missile fire.

Thwip, Thwip, Thud...

Aris recoiled in pain as a Zhent arrow imbedded itself into his shoulder sending a light spattering of blood spraying into the air. Seeing his friend and sometimes boss hurt, Nosr let fly with a spread of missiles from his fingertips. Ignoring his usual flourishes the magics flew true as always to their intended target. Looking down at his chest the orc felt the force of Nosr's spell strike him, he tried to scream but found he could not. With his last moment he observed the gaping cavity where his lungs and heart should have been. They instead had been replaced by a smoldering hole from which his blood poured out of him onto the cold stone floor of the passageway. By this time the rest of the party was alerted to the new threat and found themselves able to respond. Aris, Benito and Ellysedell fired their bows at the remaining two orcs as Grim a quiet smile on his face as he heard Aris' cry of pain merely continued to work on the task Benito had assigned him. Within a few seconds a second orc had fallen while the third took cover around the corner after letting loose a shot which narrowly glanced off the cieling by where the young Sorcerer hung upside down. Feeling a sharp pain in his calf Benito spun back towards the iron door just in time to see the small slit once more being closed. Calling out to the others to continue the fight, Benito reached down and pulled the arrow from his leg grimmacing in pain as he did so. Smiling to himself Benito drew another flask of alchemist fire from his pouch and crouched in front of the slit vial in hand waiting for the orc to open it again to take another shot at him. Grim seemingly unphased by the commotion kept on working at the locking machanism of the iron door. As Benito waited expectantly for the orc to reappear Nosr and the wood elf made short work of the third orc pinning him againt the wall with their arrows. Admist the temporary eleation of their brief respite Aris heard what sounded like the breaking of glass, instinctively recoiling he and the others saw a look of what can only be described as a sad sort of glee on the clerics face as the guttural sounds of orc voices squealing in agony came through the iron door. Flames all the while greedily lapping at the arrow slit that now lay opened. A charred orcish hand burnt almost beyond recognition reached for Benitos through the opening of the slot and whispered something in its native tongue as it breathed its last breathe and collapsed. Turning to Grim, Benito motioned for the halfling to continue his efforts as he stopped his quiet laughter and wiped a tear from his eye.

"You will not have it... may Tyr take my life if even one of your filthy breathren sets foot in my home", Benito muttered half aloud and half to himself.

Ellysidell stepped over to the priest and placed his hand on the clerics shoulder. A gesture that suprised everyone for Ellysidell had never been one prone to displays of emotion, or even talking for that matter. Yet it mattered not, the gesture was understood. Then suddenly the silence was broken by a audible click as the iron door fell inwards. Landing on the dead bodies of the orcs inside with a resounding thunk!

"Hey Guys, I think I got it open", Grim said in a quiet voice.

Between the Lines[Notes from the DM]:
Basically, Grim rolled very poorly when he tossed the alchemist's fire around the corner. However, he only took splash damage while one orc was downed.

Two other orcs stationed further down the corridor closed the iron door while their brethren were stuck with arrows. This was when the PCs started rolling crit after crit!

Grim took a 20 to open the door and in the meantime, the orcs behind it would open the slit and fire an arrow. Actually they started with a spear, but Benito yanked it out of the guy's hand. Like you read, eventually, Benito got smart and dropped a flask in the hole. Before that, they were trying to shoot arrows through it. Ellysidell actually connected one time. Since Grim as a rogue never lost his AC bonus, he was able to casually sidestep spears and arrows and eventually finish with the door.

On the other side of the battle, one orc lobbed burning alcohol at Aris before he got tagged. He then became a doorstop for the rest of his fellows to attack and prevented them from retreating from the heroes.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Milo's last sending...

Milo speaks:

O, Watchers I have something to report. Something that I cannot quite describe but it is something very wrong. Something sinister. I could use your advice, but perhaps all that I need is patience...

Today I awoke refreshed to the sound of hoofbeats galloping from the Temple of Justice where yesterday a little after Highsun, the Lady Alberia and I rode in and communicated the state emergency. Zhentarim have invaded Alaghon! I know that this is one of the groups that we monitor. My friends have a great dislike of them and, masters, they have fell creatures that serve them. Bestial orcs! In fact one struck me very hard with a great axe. My arm, while fully healed is still sore. It seems that the psychological effects of the blow still linger. I will have to remedy that with heavy meditation. My crystal personality was walking around on its own. It seems that I was so tired and slept so much that my subconscious was unable to control that pseudo-ness of me. Anyway, you should have seen me trying to catch that thing. They are pretty fast! Sorry, I digress. I must get back on track and report as best I can. It is just that I am a little shaken.

I went to visit Mourn and the Great Axe Inn where I met my friends for the first time. Masters, it has a great view of the ocean and on a clear day I pretend that I can see Raven's Bluff across the Sea of Fallen Stars. Of course my home is way too far, but wishful thinking always has encouraged me. Anyway, the inn had been renamed. It is now called the Missing Bard. My heart sank as if to foreshadow what I later discovered. I entered and was taken aback. It seemed well lit enough and generally clean. The axe of the ogre Ulfe was still above the bar, but the crowd was different. This is where I first felt that sinister feeling. The patrons were scruffy and looked like they were sizing me up as a cat would do to a mouse before a kill. I shivered, not so much from the brisk Nightal morning, but from what my heightened senses took in.

I asked for Mourn. The barkeep, a man who looked like an ex-pirate, had never heard of him. I asked for the manager or owner. He rolled his eyes, the nerve! Narrowing my eyes and proclaiming that I, Milo the Magnificent needed to see the owner brought the din in the common room to a halt. I also slid the barkeep some silver. He sent a serving maid up to the second floor and I turned around to survey the crowd. They eyed me even more predatorially. Vultures...I felt like a walking corpse.

Fortunately, I did not have to wait long. A pleasant-looking olive-skinned man with a brightly colored turban came to greet me. We exchanged pleasantries and I inquired after Mourn. The crowd soon returned to its muffled conversations. He said that he was a passing merchant from Mulhorand and that he had stayed here one night and in the morning, the elven proprietor with the wonderful voice had left and abandoned the inn. That did not sound like Mourn! But, I could not tell if this man was lying. I could not place how I felt. At ease, but with something veiled. Veiled threats? I became flustered when he explained that he had purchased the inn from the state since it was now abandoned property. To me it just seemd too quick. He asked if I wanted to tour the inn to see if everything was in order and if I wanted to visit the rooms upstairs.

Masters, I swear on the third eye of the All-seer that his eyes gleamed at that request. I felt icky and a little out of my league. He left me with an impression of oiliness. Before an arguement ensued, I left the inn thinking that I would return with a priest of Tyr, and Alberia or hopefully all of my friends to resolve this matter. As I made my way back to the temple, I had a feeling that I was being followed. Alberia (sigh) she needed more rest than I. What a woman...Turning around a few times and even ducking into an alleyway before looking back, did not flush out my pursuer. I made it back safely.

What now, O masters, what now?

DM note: The events of this post take place on 3 Nightal, 1372 if you're keeping track. The rest of the Heroes are at least a day and a half away from Alaghon.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Continued on

Heroes of the Vilhon Reach II