Shattering the Celestial Sphere (two updates 4/21/07)

[Yami no Hon]

4.3.10.1894

I guess there were five of them when the party first assembled. They’ve changed a lot since then: added new members, said farewell to others. They say the bard’s death was an accident, but I wouldn’t be so sure. Anyway, when it all started, at the end of the tenth month, there were five adventurers gathered in the Old Boar Inn out in Lethe.

Palandora was a sea elf from Nariel, and a cleric of Rathshida, the goddess of the family, come to Hasekif to find the truth surrounding the death of her brother. She didn’t have much to go on, other than the fact one of his last letters had been addressed from Lethe, so she had ensconced herself in the Inn, listening for information.

Marf was a high elf from somewhere on Calaviso. He was a mage of no small skill, taking refuge from academia and his family after playing one to many practical jokes. He’d come out to what he considered the Hinterlands to seek adventure, fame, fortune, and attractive women, but not in that order.

Malgus, Gus for short, was what he described as “a gentleman of fortune, possessed of great manual dexterity” and what everyone else described as “a liar, and a damned dirty thief who would sell his grandmother’s soul to the Sleeping God if he thought he could get a good price”. He was from Cileagia, one of the myriad fiercely independent countries of Dtami. The all-to-recent war for independence there had left it’s mark on him, physically stunting his growth at a mere four feet, and mentally leaving him a bitter, even nihilistic, cynic.

Where the rogue was small, and did his best to look unassuming, Montaire le Dray, a fighter from Rikyuner, was a hulking giant of a man. Some sort of pseudo-tragic event in his past which none of the others could be persuaded to remember had turned him from a successful carrier as a blacksmith to the life of a fighter for higher. He had come to Lethe searching for money and adventure, in that order.

Animus was the only member of the party who was a native of Hasekif. The human monk called a monastery in the Shattered Islands, along the coast of the Sea of His Wrath home. The monastery taught that experience was the best teacher, so after taking his vows to become a full fledged brother in his order, the young man set out to experience life outside the cloister.

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Word from the DM:
This is the story of the campaign I've been running since last September or so with a group at the University of Dallas. I've had fun playing the game, but it wasn't until my non-gaming friends started coming over to hear my roommate Genesis (who plays Palandora) and I tell the story of what happens in each session that I really realized this might make a good story hour. Of course, the semester and the campaign only have about a month left to run, so I have a lot of catching up to do. I intend to update a couple of times a week, if school doesn't get in the way of things.

At the begining of the first session the party is as follows:
Palandora- 1st level elf cleric (Good and Healing domains)
Marf- 1st level elf wizard (specialist Evoker)
Gus - 1st level human rogue
Montaire - 1st level human fighter
Animus - 1st lvel human monk

 

[Yami no Hon]

2nd contend update - plot hooks

Lethe is a small town dressed in a big town’s clothing. In the summer, all the rich people from the cities of the planes, that is the Styx mostly, come up to the ancient capital to escape the heat. In the winter however, they return to their towers and palaces, leaving Lethe’s citizens to care for their vacant homes. As a consequence, the town has all the rumor-mongering and politicking of a big city, and barely a fifth of the populations.

At the time they were there, a number of things were being discussed which might have been of interest to an adventuring corps. For one a group of goblins – which for some people might have been all the reason necessary to go adventuring – came to town twice a year to sell a strange apple. The one they brought in the summer healed and brought long life to everyone who ate a piece of it, the fruit sold in the winter did the exact opposite. The goblins were known to be based in the ruins of a citadel which had fallen, some hundred and fifty years prior, into a chasm up in the mountains. It begged the question, where did the apples come from? I’m not entirely sure any of them even heard this mentioned.

There were reports of live stock dying mysteriously in the night, with many small needle like wounds. The six adventurers however were of the view that food comes from the store, and really were not all that concerned with any stage of its production prior to the point where they tried to bargain with a greengrocer. They were not interested in investigating the deaths of sheep.

What they were interested in was the story of one Mrs. Hercule. The widow’s only children had both joined an adventuring party the previous summer, and had set out along the Old Road to the ruins. They had not been seen since. At Palandora’s urging, the rest of the adventurers agreed to find out what the fate of the youths had been, and return with definitive news one way or the other.

 

[Yami no Hon]

2nd content update - the trip out to the ruins

5.3.10.1894
The party set out along the Old Road early in the morning. Old might certainly have been true, the word “road” was a definite misnomer. It was little more than a series of wooden markers sticking up out of the snow. After half a day of slogging through the deep snow, they reached the top of a chasm. It was perhaps thirty feet across at the narrowest point, widening to forty, a gap which continued for some distance. Around the edge of the precipice on both sides were a few scattered columns and granite blocks, the remains of some large building, which had apparently dropped straight down when a crack opened in the ground beneath it. From the bits left on the surface, it looked as though they were from the general architectural style known as Sturdy Hasekifian Fortress that had been in fashion for over six centuries, in other words, massive, overbuilt, closely spaced things which could be relied upon to hold five times as much weight as was put upon it, without ever having to worry about the roof collapsing under the snow.

Near the narrow point of the gap, a small clearing had been made in the shelter of one or two columns. Goblin graffiti had been scratched into the columns and a few stones arranged into a fire circle, which bore signs of frequent use. A rope had been anchored to one of the blocks at the edge of the gap. It was a well made thing, such as could be found in any outfitter’s store in any city, although somewhat worse for the wear after being left to the elements for several months. After a moment or two of looking, the adventurers found that hand and footholds had been carved into the rock of the canyon wall. It would clearly not be all that difficult for them to descend at this point.

Then, they started talking to one another. Goblins are crafty tricksters they decided. Goblins are well known for setting traps they decided. This is too easy they decided. This must be a trap they decided. We should try to cross the chasm and find another way down they decided.

They went a ways north, along the edge of the chasm. They dropped the obligatory rock, and counted the seconds. They never heard a sound, partly because the fighter was counting out loud and they got into an argument about how much time actually had elapsed, and partly because it was at that point really, really, deep. It was decided that this, the widest point within view, would be the place for them to try their crossing.

The first plan created by Marf, was that the fighter, with assistance from the rest of the party members, would throw Animus to the other side. For safety’s sake, a rope would be tied to his waist, and when he reached the other side, he would secure the line to a likely looking bit of miscellaneous architectural debris, and allow the others to cross. Then they would all descend.

Animus objected to any plan involving him being thrown forty feet over a chasm of indeterminate (but undoubtedly fatal) depth. Palandora pointed out that it would be extremely unlikely for any of them, even the fighter, to succeed in throwing a fully grown human ten feet, let alone forty. Plan B was hatched.

After Gus did some quick work with a grappling hook, they managed to string a rope across the gap, and anchor it on their side in such a way that they thought it might be able to hold the weight of a person. Animus, as the most well balanced of the motley crew, was persuaded to be the first person to cross. He crawled hand over fist along it, until he was about ten feet out, and really got a good look down. The monk quickly came to his senses, and returned to his companions on the near shore. Gus was then persuaded to try it. He did not even get as far as Animus had before he too gave it up.

They spent a few minutes struggling with the rope, until they were able to work the grappling hook free and reel it back in. Grumbling about how it was all assuredly a trap, they returned to the narrow place with the hand holds.

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Note from the DM:

If this all sounds like the Sunless Citadel, that's because it is.
Please, leave questions or comments, any feedback at all. Tell me one of you cares that I'm writing this out.

How am I doing on post length? Event pacing?
A know I ought to try to update a bit more frequently. I've got plently of material to go through, but I have to balance that against the demands of school (escpecially as I enter the run up to finals) and work against time spent working on this. Not to mention planning new sessions.

Also, in these early stages, I'd be interested in hearing how other groups reacted to the Sunless Citadel. Maybe that would be a little more pertanent after a few more posts from me.