JollyDoc's Age of Worms!
JollyDoc
Explorer
YOU CAN’T GO HOME AGAIN
Daggerford. The members of the League stood on a bluff overlooking the walled town with mixed emotions. For Grubber, Shay, Vladius and Grim it was a homecoming of sorts, albeit a bitter-sweet one. When they had left the village weeks ago (which now seemed like years), they had thought themselves wise, experienced. They had been taught the depths of their naïveté with a vengeance. Smoldering vendettas against the likes of Balabar Smenk now seemed petty and juvenile. The man was a light weight. Gideon had been with them then as well. He dreamed of going to Waterdeep and seeing all that the City of Splendors had to offer, perhaps to return a hero and make his father proud. Now, he would never return at all.
For Hawk and Storm, the town brought back painful memories. The short experience they had with the denizens of Daggerford was one of captivity, torture, and degradation. To Hawk, it was a matter of honor that he return and set things right, but for Storm, the town was no better than Menzoberranzan, with its cut-throat politics and back-stabbing, hollow promises.
Dwilt and Giovanni had no knowledge of the town, save what their companions had told them. Their expectations had not been high, and they were not disappointed. Dwilt knew that Hawk wanted to take on the corruption and put the garrison firmly in charge, but the former civilar was certain that their purpose was higher. Daggerford was insignificant…a means to an end, and he wouldn’t look back once he’d wiped its mud off his boots.
“Something’s wrong,” Vladius said as they surveyed the landscape.
“How can you tell?” Dwilt asked. “The whole place reeks like an open sewer.”
“Yeah, but this sewer was my home,” Vladius replied, “and I know its layout like the back of my hand. Something’s…missing.”
Grubber nodded, his eyes widening, “The Emporium! It’s gone!”
Vladius’ eyes fixed on the spot the goliath indicated, and then quickly scanned the area around it. “That’s not all,” he said quietly. “Ondabar’s tower is gone as well.”
__________________________________________________
As the group rode into town, every eye noted their passing, some with fear, others with hope, and still others with contempt and loathing. The adventurers paid them no heed. Their attention was fixed firmly ahead, on the town square and the scene of devastation there. Zalamandra’s Emporium, once a fixture of Daggerford’s night-life and home to every sort of vice imaginable, as well as the region’s most amazing display of side-show freaks and entertainers, was simply not there. It had been completely leveled into a pile of unrecognizable rubble. In fact, every building along that side of the town square was either partially crushed or in some instances, melted. Sections of the ground were scarred and barren, including a large black swath in the middle of the square. Of Delfen Ondabar’s tower, not one stone was intact.
“What happened here?” Grubber wondered aloud as he surveyed the devastation.
“I don’t know,” Dwilt said, “but I think we’re about to find out.” He nodded his head towards a group of soldiers, wearing tabards bearing the insignia of the Waterdhavian guard, who were approaching the team from the far side of the square. As the soldiers approached, several of them showed startled recognition as they saw the faces of Grubber, Shay, Vladius and Grim. Then, their eyes widened even more as they noted the badge of office worn by Senior Civilar Hawk.
“Sir!” the ranking non-com said, saluting smartly. The other soldiers stumbled in their attempt to follow suit.
“Who’s in charge here soldier?” Hawk snapped.
“Sir…er…” the man stammered, “that would be you, sir.”
“Where is Civilar Spearslayer?” Hawk demanded.
“Dead sir,” the soldier replied. “Killed in the attack. We thought you were her replacement.”
“Attack?” Hawk asked. “What attack? What’s your name, armsman? Tell me exactly what happened here, from the beginning.”
“Sir, my name is Pyle, sir!” the soldier came to attention, saluting again. “Three days ago, sir, the town was attacked…by a dragon. It was a monstrous, black devil, thirty-foot long if it was an inch! The first thing it did was blast the wizard’s tower, then it moved on from there. Once it reached the square, it started snatching up the wounded, threatening to kill them all if we didn’t tell it where Master Ondabar was. It’d killed at least a dozen by the time Civilar Spearslayer arrived with a squad, accompanied by High Justice Valkus Dun. The dragon barely gave them notice, sir. It just burned the skin from their bones where they stood with its breath. Acid it was, green and noisome.”
Grubber blanched at the news of Dun’s death, but perhaps it was a blessing, saving the old man from grief at the news of Gideon’s death.
“Why was it looking for Ondabar?” Hawk asked.
“No one knows sir,” Pyle answered. “But we had to tell it where to find him, sir. We didn’t have no choice! It was gonna level the whole town!”
“Calm down, soldier,” Hawk ordered. “So you’re saying Ondabar wasn’t here during the attack? Where was he?”
“That old tomb, sir,” Pyle said. “The one your friends there found.”
“The Whispering Cairn?” Vladius asked. “What was he doing up there?”
“Don’t know that either,” said Pyle, “but it was pretty common knowledge that he’d been spending a lot of time up their lately. Sir…” he asked cautiously, “are you going after it? The dragon I mean?”
“It would appear that way, son,” Hawk sighed. “Until I return, you’re in command, Civilar Pyle.”
“Yes sir!” Pyle clicked his heels together and snapped off another salute. Vladius shook his head. Better to leave Smenk in charge.
____________________________________________________
“It has to be Ilthane,” Hawk said as the group made their way along the winding trail leading up into the Forlorn Hills. “What other black dragon do we know?”
“But why would she be after Ondabar?” Grubber asked. “He wasn’t with us when we invaded the Red Eye tribe.”
“Quite possibly she traced our connection back to him,” Hawk said. “Wouldn’t be a very hard trail to follow. After all, someone killed Dagsumn when they found out about his ties to us. Being associated with us doesn’t seem to be the healthiest thing at the moment.”
The team passed the burned-out remains of an old mine office, and Vladius called a brief halt.
“Used to be our old hide-out,” he said, nodding to the ruins. “That is until old Smenk decided we were too much of a liability and decided he didn’t want any loose ends around. Anyway, the Whispering Cairn just about a mile or so ahead. We’d better prepare ourselves.”
The others nodded their agreement, and set about their preparations. Knowing what he did about the nature of black dragons, Grubber thought it wise to use his prayers to grant the entire team some degree of protection from acid. Vladius, meanwhile, polymorphed himself into an avoral, a bird-like outsider capable of flight. Once they were all ready, they continued on.
The entrance to the Whispering Cairn was just like those who had been there before remembered it, a wide, monolith-lined portal partially obscured by underbrush and boulders, although much of the underbrush appeared to have been recently burned away. Cautiously, they dismounted and approached the opening, eyes peeled and ears tuned for any sign of Ilthane.
_________________________________________________________________
Ilthane watched the approach of the newcomers with interest. After three days of waiting for the wizard to emerge from his bolt-hole, she was growing bored. When her contacts in Starmantle had informed her of the demise of the Ebon Triad cult in Daggerford, and asked her to track down those responsible and their mentor Ondabar, she had jumped at the chance. In fact, she had already planned on dealing with the interlopers for interfering with her plans for the Red Eye tribe. The gold and magic promised to her by the Triad agents were almost an afterthought.
She had had little trouble in ‘convincing’ the people of Daggerford to tell her of Ondabar’s whereabouts. It was her intention to deal with the wizard first, and then move on to his underlings. She had come to this tomb and lay in wait for him at nightfall, ambushing him when he’d emerged. She had managed to gravely injure him, but the wily mage had escaped at the last back inside the cairn, and now she’d been forced to wait here for him to come back out, which he would surely have to do or starve to death.
Yet now, it appeared that her wait was to be interrupted by a pleasant diversion. How convenient for Ondabar’s lackeys to simply present themselves to her, for who else would come to this desolate place in such force, if not the wizard’s friends seeking to rescue their mentor?
__________________________________________________
A low rush of wind was the only warning the League had of the dragon’s approach. From behind a low, wooded hill she swept in, opening her mouth and spewing forth a noxious, green stream of liquid, engulfing Grim, Storm and Havok in the blast. The dragon grinned evilly, anticipating seeing three steaming pools of goo when the air cleared. Her expression rapidly turned to one of confusion, and then anger when she instead saw her quarry still standing, and relatively unscathed. “Dragotha take you!” she screamed, “The wizard is mine!”
Havok didn’t waste time trading threats with the dragon. He’d been waiting for her to show herself, and now he unleashed the full fury of his eldritch blast. Ilthane shrieked as the mystical energy scorched her hide, leaving great, raw rents in her flesh. Before she could react, however, the air around her erupted with more magic, first in a roaring ball of fire, and then in a sizzling sphere of electricity.
Right on the heels of the attacks by Havok, Pyro and Storm, Hawk and Grim charged the dragon head-on, Hawk nimbly avoiding her snapping jaws as he closed in. As she coiled her neck for another strike, the civilar drove his sword into her throat, willing its holy power to surge through its blade.
With horrifying quickness, Ilthane found herself on the defensive…and losing. Two warriors now flanked her, while the accursed spell-weavers thought themselves safely at distance where they could strike at her at their leisure. She would have to dissuade them of that illusion. Leaping into the air like a cat, she soared over the heads of the warriors, landing between Storm and Havok. The drow quickly began to retreat, but Ilthane struck at her like a cobra, her razor-sharp teeth opening ghastly tears in the sorceress’ back. The dragon then turned towards Havok, meaning to take out both of the arcanists simultaneously, but as her gaze fell on the warlock, she knew she’d been a split-second too late. His hand glowed with crackling green energy, and he leveled it at her point-blank. The last thing Ilthane saw in this life was the image of crawling worms.
__________________________________________________________
Giovanni stood over the fallen dragon, many thoughts going through his mind. Foremost was the name she had called out…Dragotha. He’d come across that name in his reading of the Apostolic Scrolls. Dragotha had been the general of Kyuss’ armies, and he’d also been a dragon…an undead dragon. Second to that thought, but no less important, was the fact that when he’d dealt the killing blow to the dragon, his energy blast was not the red he was accustomed to, but deep, emerald green…
___________________________________________________
The entrance to the Whispering Cairn was much as Grim, Grubber, Vladius and Shay remembered it. Natural light dimly illuminated a long hallway extending north into darkness. A faint breeze brought with it sibilant whispers that sounded almost like sighing breath.
The walls bore horizontal bands of deceptively simple geometric patterns at waist level. In places, the bands revealed startling detail, but in others the walls looked as though they had been hacked apart with weapons, or eroded by the rigors of time. Flakes of ancient paint, brilliant purple and a dull mustard hue, still clung to the walls in places, hinting at what must once have been a riot of color. A thin coat of dust coated the floor.
Just inside the darkened tomb, the hallway branched into shallow alcoves to the east and west. Here, the walls bore the most significant damage. Dozens of clumsy etchings marred the beautiful, ancient masonry like graffiti on a city wall.
One thing had definitely changed though. When the original League had come here, a branching passage to the east had been completely blocked off by an apparent collapse. Now, however, the passage stood open, its walls scarred and dented. At the end of the tunnel stood a glossy black surface with a raised sphere in the center, like the boss in the center of a shield. The surface resembled a heavily lacquered door.
“That certainly wasn’t here before,” Vladius said, now once more in his more familiar mephit form.
“It’s a portal,” Giovanni stated. “A conduit linking one place to another.”
“It’s evil,” Hawk said flatly. “I can sense it. Strong…it reeks of it.”
“Do you think Ondabar went through there?” Grubber asked dubiously. “Shouldn’t we check the other parts of the tomb first?”
“We’ve seen everything in this place, top to bottom,” Vladius said, “and Delfen did too, once we told him about it. Plus, Ironeater’s miners have been here removing all of those iron balls. This is the only thing that’s new. It has to be where he went.”
“It’s decided then,” Dwilt said. “It’s as likely a place to start as any.”
The group arranged themselves behind Grim, who approached the glistening black portal with trepidation. Reaching out one hand to touch the surface, he found that is was viscous rather than solid, like mud. Drawing his hand back out, he found it clean and unharmed.
“Well,” he shrugged, “no better way to find out than to just get to it.” The dwarf then stepped forward, his body slowly submerging into the substance of the portal. To his team mates behind him, it appeared as if Grim was stepping through quicksand. Half his body was already through, yet it seem a slow transit. To Grim, however, it was something else entirely. As his face broke the surface of the portal, he found himself looking into a twilit nothingness…but he was not alone. Standing directly before him, blocking any further progress, was an emaciated creature, with glowing red eyes, and a lolling, barbed tongue. Wicked, filthy claws tipped its fingers and toes, and it reeked of death and decay. Before Grim could fully register what he was seeing, the thing launched itself at him.
The other members of the League saw Grim suddenly begin to thrash and flail, still half-in and half-out of the portal.
“He’s under attack!” Havok shouted, and blindly he fired a blast of eldritch heat into the blackness that surrounded the dwarf. Hawk rushed to the dwarf’s side, struggling to pull his friend free of the black morass. At that moment, what appeared to be claws made of pure darkness reached out of the conduit, and slashed the civilar, raking his throat and sending a great gout of blood spraying the corridor wall. Staggering back, he collapsed against Grubber, blood still poring out of him. Trying to remain calm, Grubber closed his hands over the wound and began a quick prayer. As energy flowed from him into the civilar, the arterial spray slowed and died, the wound closing, but leaving an ugly scar behind.
Pyro needed a clear target. Closing his eyes and touching them with the tips of two fingers, he began chanting a spell. When he had finished, and opened his eyes, the portal seemed as clear as glass. The Blindsight allowed him to see what was hidden, and now he could make out the ghoulish creature with which Grim struggled. Suddenly, the creature grabbed the dwarf in a bear-hug embrace, and began raking at his stony hide with its claws.
“Havok, I see it!” Pyro cried. Before the warlock could protest, the wizard pressed both of his thumbs into Havok’s eyes, and uttered his spell again. Instantly, Havok saw what Grim and Pyro saw. Without hesitation, he fired a second eldritch blast at the monster, just as Grim flexed his prodigious biceps and broke free of the ghoul’s hold.
“Dwilt,” Havok shouted, “aim low. It’s right in front of Grim. Trip it!” The paladin didn’t doubt what his team mate was telling him. He whipped his chain forward into the darkness and felt it connect with something solid. He pulled mightily, felt a momentary resistance, and then the chain went slack.
Grim grinned with satisfaction as the creature sprawled on its back in front of him. Instantly, it tried to rise, but the mineral warrior hooked his axe behind its ankles, and sent it tumbling to the ground once more. Snarling, the fiend began reaching for his legs, trying to bring him to the ground with it. The dwarf jabbed the top of his axe at its face, rocking its head back, and pushing it momentarily away from him. Still the thing would not relent. It sprang to its feet, but this time when Grim tried to trip it, the creature instead snatched the shaft of his axe and pulled it towards him. Momentarily, the dwarf was off balance, and the ghoul kicked his legs out from under him, sending him face-first to the ground before it. In an instant it was on him, wrapping its arms around him from behind, and digging in its claws and teeth.
Pyro saw it all. Grim was in trouble. He needed an edge. The mephit/mage quickly darted towards the prone legs of the dwarf, and reached out to touch him, mouthing the words to another spell all the while. In a flash, the dwarf transformed. Now, lying on the ground was no longer the mineral warrior, but instead the massive form of a troll!
“Hah!” Grim shouted. “Now we’ll see who can wrestle!” Dropping his axe, he rolled to his back and brought his own claws to bear, tearing into the fiend’s flesh as it continued to flail at him.
“Now for my next trick,” Pyro said. Another spell left his lips, and at its completion, the troll/Grim became covered in a thick layer of grease. Within the portal, Grim slipped free of his opponent, reversing its grip and pulling it to the ground with him. The pair rolled about in a whirling ball of teeth and claws, ripping and tearing at one another with savage ferocity. Finally, with a shriek of rage, the ghoul broke free from Grim’s grasp and surged to its feet, standing over the prone dwarf. As it raised its claws to rend its prey again, a bolt of green energy speared it through the heart, and it dissolved into nothingness with a final, wailing cry.
Daggerford. The members of the League stood on a bluff overlooking the walled town with mixed emotions. For Grubber, Shay, Vladius and Grim it was a homecoming of sorts, albeit a bitter-sweet one. When they had left the village weeks ago (which now seemed like years), they had thought themselves wise, experienced. They had been taught the depths of their naïveté with a vengeance. Smoldering vendettas against the likes of Balabar Smenk now seemed petty and juvenile. The man was a light weight. Gideon had been with them then as well. He dreamed of going to Waterdeep and seeing all that the City of Splendors had to offer, perhaps to return a hero and make his father proud. Now, he would never return at all.
For Hawk and Storm, the town brought back painful memories. The short experience they had with the denizens of Daggerford was one of captivity, torture, and degradation. To Hawk, it was a matter of honor that he return and set things right, but for Storm, the town was no better than Menzoberranzan, with its cut-throat politics and back-stabbing, hollow promises.
Dwilt and Giovanni had no knowledge of the town, save what their companions had told them. Their expectations had not been high, and they were not disappointed. Dwilt knew that Hawk wanted to take on the corruption and put the garrison firmly in charge, but the former civilar was certain that their purpose was higher. Daggerford was insignificant…a means to an end, and he wouldn’t look back once he’d wiped its mud off his boots.
“Something’s wrong,” Vladius said as they surveyed the landscape.
“How can you tell?” Dwilt asked. “The whole place reeks like an open sewer.”
“Yeah, but this sewer was my home,” Vladius replied, “and I know its layout like the back of my hand. Something’s…missing.”
Grubber nodded, his eyes widening, “The Emporium! It’s gone!”
Vladius’ eyes fixed on the spot the goliath indicated, and then quickly scanned the area around it. “That’s not all,” he said quietly. “Ondabar’s tower is gone as well.”
__________________________________________________
As the group rode into town, every eye noted their passing, some with fear, others with hope, and still others with contempt and loathing. The adventurers paid them no heed. Their attention was fixed firmly ahead, on the town square and the scene of devastation there. Zalamandra’s Emporium, once a fixture of Daggerford’s night-life and home to every sort of vice imaginable, as well as the region’s most amazing display of side-show freaks and entertainers, was simply not there. It had been completely leveled into a pile of unrecognizable rubble. In fact, every building along that side of the town square was either partially crushed or in some instances, melted. Sections of the ground were scarred and barren, including a large black swath in the middle of the square. Of Delfen Ondabar’s tower, not one stone was intact.
“What happened here?” Grubber wondered aloud as he surveyed the devastation.
“I don’t know,” Dwilt said, “but I think we’re about to find out.” He nodded his head towards a group of soldiers, wearing tabards bearing the insignia of the Waterdhavian guard, who were approaching the team from the far side of the square. As the soldiers approached, several of them showed startled recognition as they saw the faces of Grubber, Shay, Vladius and Grim. Then, their eyes widened even more as they noted the badge of office worn by Senior Civilar Hawk.
“Sir!” the ranking non-com said, saluting smartly. The other soldiers stumbled in their attempt to follow suit.
“Who’s in charge here soldier?” Hawk snapped.
“Sir…er…” the man stammered, “that would be you, sir.”
“Where is Civilar Spearslayer?” Hawk demanded.
“Dead sir,” the soldier replied. “Killed in the attack. We thought you were her replacement.”
“Attack?” Hawk asked. “What attack? What’s your name, armsman? Tell me exactly what happened here, from the beginning.”
“Sir, my name is Pyle, sir!” the soldier came to attention, saluting again. “Three days ago, sir, the town was attacked…by a dragon. It was a monstrous, black devil, thirty-foot long if it was an inch! The first thing it did was blast the wizard’s tower, then it moved on from there. Once it reached the square, it started snatching up the wounded, threatening to kill them all if we didn’t tell it where Master Ondabar was. It’d killed at least a dozen by the time Civilar Spearslayer arrived with a squad, accompanied by High Justice Valkus Dun. The dragon barely gave them notice, sir. It just burned the skin from their bones where they stood with its breath. Acid it was, green and noisome.”
Grubber blanched at the news of Dun’s death, but perhaps it was a blessing, saving the old man from grief at the news of Gideon’s death.
“Why was it looking for Ondabar?” Hawk asked.
“No one knows sir,” Pyle answered. “But we had to tell it where to find him, sir. We didn’t have no choice! It was gonna level the whole town!”
“Calm down, soldier,” Hawk ordered. “So you’re saying Ondabar wasn’t here during the attack? Where was he?”
“That old tomb, sir,” Pyle said. “The one your friends there found.”
“The Whispering Cairn?” Vladius asked. “What was he doing up there?”
“Don’t know that either,” said Pyle, “but it was pretty common knowledge that he’d been spending a lot of time up their lately. Sir…” he asked cautiously, “are you going after it? The dragon I mean?”
“It would appear that way, son,” Hawk sighed. “Until I return, you’re in command, Civilar Pyle.”
“Yes sir!” Pyle clicked his heels together and snapped off another salute. Vladius shook his head. Better to leave Smenk in charge.
____________________________________________________
“It has to be Ilthane,” Hawk said as the group made their way along the winding trail leading up into the Forlorn Hills. “What other black dragon do we know?”
“But why would she be after Ondabar?” Grubber asked. “He wasn’t with us when we invaded the Red Eye tribe.”
“Quite possibly she traced our connection back to him,” Hawk said. “Wouldn’t be a very hard trail to follow. After all, someone killed Dagsumn when they found out about his ties to us. Being associated with us doesn’t seem to be the healthiest thing at the moment.”
The team passed the burned-out remains of an old mine office, and Vladius called a brief halt.
“Used to be our old hide-out,” he said, nodding to the ruins. “That is until old Smenk decided we were too much of a liability and decided he didn’t want any loose ends around. Anyway, the Whispering Cairn just about a mile or so ahead. We’d better prepare ourselves.”
The others nodded their agreement, and set about their preparations. Knowing what he did about the nature of black dragons, Grubber thought it wise to use his prayers to grant the entire team some degree of protection from acid. Vladius, meanwhile, polymorphed himself into an avoral, a bird-like outsider capable of flight. Once they were all ready, they continued on.
The entrance to the Whispering Cairn was just like those who had been there before remembered it, a wide, monolith-lined portal partially obscured by underbrush and boulders, although much of the underbrush appeared to have been recently burned away. Cautiously, they dismounted and approached the opening, eyes peeled and ears tuned for any sign of Ilthane.
_________________________________________________________________
Ilthane watched the approach of the newcomers with interest. After three days of waiting for the wizard to emerge from his bolt-hole, she was growing bored. When her contacts in Starmantle had informed her of the demise of the Ebon Triad cult in Daggerford, and asked her to track down those responsible and their mentor Ondabar, she had jumped at the chance. In fact, she had already planned on dealing with the interlopers for interfering with her plans for the Red Eye tribe. The gold and magic promised to her by the Triad agents were almost an afterthought.
She had had little trouble in ‘convincing’ the people of Daggerford to tell her of Ondabar’s whereabouts. It was her intention to deal with the wizard first, and then move on to his underlings. She had come to this tomb and lay in wait for him at nightfall, ambushing him when he’d emerged. She had managed to gravely injure him, but the wily mage had escaped at the last back inside the cairn, and now she’d been forced to wait here for him to come back out, which he would surely have to do or starve to death.
Yet now, it appeared that her wait was to be interrupted by a pleasant diversion. How convenient for Ondabar’s lackeys to simply present themselves to her, for who else would come to this desolate place in such force, if not the wizard’s friends seeking to rescue their mentor?
__________________________________________________
A low rush of wind was the only warning the League had of the dragon’s approach. From behind a low, wooded hill she swept in, opening her mouth and spewing forth a noxious, green stream of liquid, engulfing Grim, Storm and Havok in the blast. The dragon grinned evilly, anticipating seeing three steaming pools of goo when the air cleared. Her expression rapidly turned to one of confusion, and then anger when she instead saw her quarry still standing, and relatively unscathed. “Dragotha take you!” she screamed, “The wizard is mine!”
Havok didn’t waste time trading threats with the dragon. He’d been waiting for her to show herself, and now he unleashed the full fury of his eldritch blast. Ilthane shrieked as the mystical energy scorched her hide, leaving great, raw rents in her flesh. Before she could react, however, the air around her erupted with more magic, first in a roaring ball of fire, and then in a sizzling sphere of electricity.
Right on the heels of the attacks by Havok, Pyro and Storm, Hawk and Grim charged the dragon head-on, Hawk nimbly avoiding her snapping jaws as he closed in. As she coiled her neck for another strike, the civilar drove his sword into her throat, willing its holy power to surge through its blade.
With horrifying quickness, Ilthane found herself on the defensive…and losing. Two warriors now flanked her, while the accursed spell-weavers thought themselves safely at distance where they could strike at her at their leisure. She would have to dissuade them of that illusion. Leaping into the air like a cat, she soared over the heads of the warriors, landing between Storm and Havok. The drow quickly began to retreat, but Ilthane struck at her like a cobra, her razor-sharp teeth opening ghastly tears in the sorceress’ back. The dragon then turned towards Havok, meaning to take out both of the arcanists simultaneously, but as her gaze fell on the warlock, she knew she’d been a split-second too late. His hand glowed with crackling green energy, and he leveled it at her point-blank. The last thing Ilthane saw in this life was the image of crawling worms.
__________________________________________________________
Giovanni stood over the fallen dragon, many thoughts going through his mind. Foremost was the name she had called out…Dragotha. He’d come across that name in his reading of the Apostolic Scrolls. Dragotha had been the general of Kyuss’ armies, and he’d also been a dragon…an undead dragon. Second to that thought, but no less important, was the fact that when he’d dealt the killing blow to the dragon, his energy blast was not the red he was accustomed to, but deep, emerald green…
___________________________________________________
The entrance to the Whispering Cairn was much as Grim, Grubber, Vladius and Shay remembered it. Natural light dimly illuminated a long hallway extending north into darkness. A faint breeze brought with it sibilant whispers that sounded almost like sighing breath.
The walls bore horizontal bands of deceptively simple geometric patterns at waist level. In places, the bands revealed startling detail, but in others the walls looked as though they had been hacked apart with weapons, or eroded by the rigors of time. Flakes of ancient paint, brilliant purple and a dull mustard hue, still clung to the walls in places, hinting at what must once have been a riot of color. A thin coat of dust coated the floor.
Just inside the darkened tomb, the hallway branched into shallow alcoves to the east and west. Here, the walls bore the most significant damage. Dozens of clumsy etchings marred the beautiful, ancient masonry like graffiti on a city wall.
One thing had definitely changed though. When the original League had come here, a branching passage to the east had been completely blocked off by an apparent collapse. Now, however, the passage stood open, its walls scarred and dented. At the end of the tunnel stood a glossy black surface with a raised sphere in the center, like the boss in the center of a shield. The surface resembled a heavily lacquered door.
“That certainly wasn’t here before,” Vladius said, now once more in his more familiar mephit form.
“It’s a portal,” Giovanni stated. “A conduit linking one place to another.”
“It’s evil,” Hawk said flatly. “I can sense it. Strong…it reeks of it.”
“Do you think Ondabar went through there?” Grubber asked dubiously. “Shouldn’t we check the other parts of the tomb first?”
“We’ve seen everything in this place, top to bottom,” Vladius said, “and Delfen did too, once we told him about it. Plus, Ironeater’s miners have been here removing all of those iron balls. This is the only thing that’s new. It has to be where he went.”
“It’s decided then,” Dwilt said. “It’s as likely a place to start as any.”
The group arranged themselves behind Grim, who approached the glistening black portal with trepidation. Reaching out one hand to touch the surface, he found that is was viscous rather than solid, like mud. Drawing his hand back out, he found it clean and unharmed.
“Well,” he shrugged, “no better way to find out than to just get to it.” The dwarf then stepped forward, his body slowly submerging into the substance of the portal. To his team mates behind him, it appeared as if Grim was stepping through quicksand. Half his body was already through, yet it seem a slow transit. To Grim, however, it was something else entirely. As his face broke the surface of the portal, he found himself looking into a twilit nothingness…but he was not alone. Standing directly before him, blocking any further progress, was an emaciated creature, with glowing red eyes, and a lolling, barbed tongue. Wicked, filthy claws tipped its fingers and toes, and it reeked of death and decay. Before Grim could fully register what he was seeing, the thing launched itself at him.
The other members of the League saw Grim suddenly begin to thrash and flail, still half-in and half-out of the portal.
“He’s under attack!” Havok shouted, and blindly he fired a blast of eldritch heat into the blackness that surrounded the dwarf. Hawk rushed to the dwarf’s side, struggling to pull his friend free of the black morass. At that moment, what appeared to be claws made of pure darkness reached out of the conduit, and slashed the civilar, raking his throat and sending a great gout of blood spraying the corridor wall. Staggering back, he collapsed against Grubber, blood still poring out of him. Trying to remain calm, Grubber closed his hands over the wound and began a quick prayer. As energy flowed from him into the civilar, the arterial spray slowed and died, the wound closing, but leaving an ugly scar behind.
Pyro needed a clear target. Closing his eyes and touching them with the tips of two fingers, he began chanting a spell. When he had finished, and opened his eyes, the portal seemed as clear as glass. The Blindsight allowed him to see what was hidden, and now he could make out the ghoulish creature with which Grim struggled. Suddenly, the creature grabbed the dwarf in a bear-hug embrace, and began raking at his stony hide with its claws.
“Havok, I see it!” Pyro cried. Before the warlock could protest, the wizard pressed both of his thumbs into Havok’s eyes, and uttered his spell again. Instantly, Havok saw what Grim and Pyro saw. Without hesitation, he fired a second eldritch blast at the monster, just as Grim flexed his prodigious biceps and broke free of the ghoul’s hold.
“Dwilt,” Havok shouted, “aim low. It’s right in front of Grim. Trip it!” The paladin didn’t doubt what his team mate was telling him. He whipped his chain forward into the darkness and felt it connect with something solid. He pulled mightily, felt a momentary resistance, and then the chain went slack.
Grim grinned with satisfaction as the creature sprawled on its back in front of him. Instantly, it tried to rise, but the mineral warrior hooked his axe behind its ankles, and sent it tumbling to the ground once more. Snarling, the fiend began reaching for his legs, trying to bring him to the ground with it. The dwarf jabbed the top of his axe at its face, rocking its head back, and pushing it momentarily away from him. Still the thing would not relent. It sprang to its feet, but this time when Grim tried to trip it, the creature instead snatched the shaft of his axe and pulled it towards him. Momentarily, the dwarf was off balance, and the ghoul kicked his legs out from under him, sending him face-first to the ground before it. In an instant it was on him, wrapping its arms around him from behind, and digging in its claws and teeth.
Pyro saw it all. Grim was in trouble. He needed an edge. The mephit/mage quickly darted towards the prone legs of the dwarf, and reached out to touch him, mouthing the words to another spell all the while. In a flash, the dwarf transformed. Now, lying on the ground was no longer the mineral warrior, but instead the massive form of a troll!
“Hah!” Grim shouted. “Now we’ll see who can wrestle!” Dropping his axe, he rolled to his back and brought his own claws to bear, tearing into the fiend’s flesh as it continued to flail at him.
“Now for my next trick,” Pyro said. Another spell left his lips, and at its completion, the troll/Grim became covered in a thick layer of grease. Within the portal, Grim slipped free of his opponent, reversing its grip and pulling it to the ground with him. The pair rolled about in a whirling ball of teeth and claws, ripping and tearing at one another with savage ferocity. Finally, with a shriek of rage, the ghoul broke free from Grim’s grasp and surged to its feet, standing over the prone dwarf. As it raised its claws to rend its prey again, a bolt of green energy speared it through the heart, and it dissolved into nothingness with a final, wailing cry.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
JD, thank you for writing again so soon...all of us would have understood, if you had taken a break! Perhaps writing was able to take your mind from the situation at hand a little.
Impressive, very impressive the way the party handled those two encounters! This group works together so well, it's almost frightening.
Impressive, very impressive the way the party handled those two encounters! This group works together so well, it's almost frightening.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Wow! But that is one tough module. Good thing you like creating characters!Joachim said:
Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
It's a good thing there were plenty of X-men, Teen Mutants, Excalibur, X-Force, X-Factor, full and part time members.
I could be wrong, but we haven't seen:
Wolverine, Shadowcat, Cyclops, Jean Grey, Phoenix, Rogue, Professor X, Iceman, Beast, Polaris, Banshee, Thunderbird, Psylocke, Dazzler, Longshot, Jubilee, Forge, Gambit, etc.
GW
I could be wrong, but we haven't seen:
Wolverine, Shadowcat, Cyclops, Jean Grey, Phoenix, Rogue, Professor X, Iceman, Beast, Polaris, Banshee, Thunderbird, Psylocke, Dazzler, Longshot, Jubilee, Forge, Gambit, etc.
GW
Joachim
First Post
gfunk said:
The black dragon was easy for us because it was wide open and we have 3 boomers and after round 1 it went from 250 +/- hps to less than 70. Round 2, it made a mistake when it decided to land right next to me...I had to go full bear or risk eating one of its full attack actions (2nd Ed - Claw/Claw/Bite/Tail/Wing/Wing/Kick).
The ghoul was tough because we had no way to bring our arms to bear on it. One of those difficult situations where we had to basically wait for Grim to kill it.
Last edited:
