The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #211] Catching a Break

Ixin took a hesitant step back and bumped into a tree. She pressed her right hand against her aching ribs and grimaced at the agony that stabbed her with each movement. She doubted whether she'd have the stamina to cast a spell or even be able to focus her mind enough with the grating pain in her side. But she had to do something. With her left hand she drew open her Cloak of Many Pouches, freeing Martivir from the extra-dimensional space where he often sheltered. The owl spread his wings and was airborne even before he fully cleared his safe haven. He circled upward silently, adding his keen sense to Ixin's own as he surveyed the battlefield.

Finian, of course, didn't see the familiar take flight; he was much too preoccupied with the tentacled aberration that lashed at him from the tree below. In his youth, Finian had seen the so-called wild elves of Spiney Wood move through the branches of the mammoth conifers that were their homes as easily and as quickly as he could run along the forest floor below. His father had called them "tree toppers" and, while Finian had spent most of his life immersing himself in nature, he had never attained the level of affinity necessary to perfect the art of tree stepping. That didn't stop him from trying, though.

He flexed and jumped the six feet to a stout branch on a nearby tree. The Slippers of Spider Climbing clung tenaciously to the limb and he swayed in the air dangerously but did not fall. The worm flailed at him, but he was just out of its reach.

Ruze eyed the worm scuttling toward them and drew forth his holy symbol. "My Queen," he intoned, "Bless us with thy grace as we face these creatures of chaos!" Ledare, Draelond, and Ixin all felt the presence of divine favor an instant later.

Ledare allowed the blessing to guide her aim, and even as the unnatural creature charged toward her she squeezed off a shot from her repeating crossbow. The bolt flew straight and true, sinking deeply into the pinkish flesh surrounding the creature's beaked maw. It squealed in pain but came onward.

Draelond met its advance with his weapon and Ravager's jagged blade skewered through the moss-green exoskeleton protecting the thing's head as soon as it came within reach. The bastard sword pinned the head to the ground but its rear legs continued to scuttle forward for a few moments more before realizing that it was dead. Its stinking, bloated body piled up against Draelond and the warrior grunted in disgust.

Finian dropped down from his branch and landed lightly in the soft loam. A quick glance over his shoulder showed that the green worm was still pursuing him, but it was slowly reversing its course down the tree trunk rather than attempt the jump that he had. The Archer sprinted across the clearing to rejoin his companions rather than engage the thing on his own.

Ledare aimed at the worm and fired as soon as it came into range. The bolt flew wide of its target.

Draelond pulled his blade free of the corpse of the first worm and readied himself to meet the charge of the second. It reared up to face the man and exposed its belly to his sword. He split it in half with a single, massive upswing that sent its noxious lifeblood spraying twenty feet into the air. Its corpse thudded to the ground on either side of the big man and he stood there for a moment, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. When he finally turned to face the others, Finian summed up their feelings rather concisely.

"Wow," he said.

-------------------------------

(To quote Dr. Midnight) More to come...

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #211a] Pressing Luck

The owl settled quietly on a branch above Ixin's head and hooted down to her. She listened intently for a moment, nodded and let out a relieved sigh. "Marty says that he doesn't see any more of those things nearby," she informed the group and her keen eyes saw shoulders relax all around.

"Finian," Ledare began, "Check the area for -"

"Tracks," the ranger finished and nodded. "I'm already on it." He bent low to peer closely at the blood-stained grass and the others waited nervously for him to finish. After a time, he stood up and announced his findings. "Both trails go into the cave," he explained, pointing absently at Ixin. "It looks like your missing girl and our missing mage went inside. There were six men wearing soft-soled boots with the girl. They dismounted and went into the cave. Then a barefooted man came out and started leading the horses in as well; I don't know why he left this horse out here."

No sooner had the whispered words left his lips then the horse collapsed in a heap. Finian examined the animal. It had bled out from the many ragged wounds to its belly. Peering over the Archer's shoulder, Ledare squinted at the animal's bridle.

"This is one of the horses that we saw tethered in Othelwood," she announced.

"I don't much like the fact that we find it again here," Draelond muttered and Finian nodded.

"It doesn't bode well for Kirnoth," the half-elf said and stood.

Ledare sighed and studied the dark cave mouth. "We're no worse off than we were before," she stated. "It's in our best interests to find out what is in that cave." Ruze started to protest, but upon looking Ledare in the eye he instead held up his hands, acknowledging his defeat.

Finian led the way with his glowing longsword drawn, ever wary for ambush or trap. Martivir floated down from his branch and settled on Ixin's broad shoulder.

The cave mouth narrowed quickly to a damp crack that was scarcely more than five feet across. The floor was muddy and gently dropped below ground. After descending a short distance, the floor levelled and the walls fell away, opening into a cold, damp cave, roughly circular and about 40 feet in diameter. a scattering of loose stones littered the dirt floor, and two passageways led deeper into the earth. To the left was a narrow, jagged corridor, and to the right a wider, more passable exit.

They paused in the dank chamber and listened. Ixin's eyes flashed in the near darkness. "Do you hear-?" she started to ask and Ledare nodded.

"It's coming from over there," she said and pointed toward the narrow fissure to the left. The others listened and could just make out a wet tearing and smacking sound. It was a furtive and hungry sound and it made the hair stand up on more than one of the Companions' necks.

Finian bent and examined the packed dirt floor, ranging around the room in his search. It didn't take him long to reach a conclusion. "The boot tracks - and Kirnoth - lead to the right," he explained. "The horses were led to the left."

"Is there any sign of Nilia?" Ixin asked, hopefully but Finian shook his head.

"I did find this, though," he held up the dagger in his left hand. An iron necklace was looped over the blade and a heavy, black medallion depended from the chain. The medallion was crusted with mud where it had been dropped on the cave floor and trod upon by more than one foot, but the unsettling symbol was still apparent. Only Ixin failed to recognize the rat skull surrounded by a serpent eating its own tail for what it was.

"Aphyx!" Ruze hissed and spat upon the ground.

 

[Drealond Khemir]

A day late...

...as always... But, as I'm sure Jon will tell you if you ask, that should get me a few extra XP's for staying in character. Not Draelond's character... MY character.

Although I have admittedly known no other DM but Jon (either in-person or PBEM) I can't imagine that it is possible to approach the game more skillfully or with more craftsmanlike attention to every detail of the world our characters live in. His ability to weave five different (and usually diametrically opposing) character viewpoints into a seamless and well-written storyline that values every player's input is utterly amazing to me.

Draelond is my second character in this game and in large part due to my own fascination with his overwhelming strength, I have used him as little beyond a human death dispenser. My familiarity with the detailed rules and descriptions of gameplay is cursory at best, as is my gaming experience, so I often feel that it's unfortunate that I haven't delved to deeply into his abilities other than swinging a sword REALLY hard. To Jon's credit, the storyline and charcater interactions have allowed Draelond to evolve into a much more interesting character than he might otherwise have been.

So... my best belated wishes for a Happy DM Appreciation Day to you JP, and to other DM's who follow the Saga of these five somewhat quirky individuals. I have no reason to blow sunshine up anyone's... well... you know the saying... when I say that those of us that spend a couple of days a week in Jon's world are among the lucky ones.

Thanks,
Russell Bartlett

Addendum: This is not to dismiss the fact that there is indeed a dark side to this man that sometimes scares me.

 

[Jon Potter]

I'm blushing...



I appreciate all the praise from my players, but gaming is definitely a two-way street. If not for the continued effort and interest from each of you, this campaign would certainly have folded. I mean what can a DM do without players... play with himself? Err... That didn't really come out right.

Anyway, I have to 'fess up given of all this back-patting. I've been hanging the meat of the campaign on a skeleton of published and free online adventures from the outset. In fact, the over-arching plotline was wholely inspired by a trilogy of 2E adventures that I downloaded in 1998. Since we haven't played through those adventures yet, I'm not going to divulge their names, but I do want to give credit where it's due.

The following is a list (in order) of the adventures that have appeared (in some format) in this Story Hour.

1) The Artist's Loving Touch by Charles C. Reed, an adventure found in Dungeon #68. They played through this adventure largely as it was written some time before the start of the Story Hour. I mention it here because several of the villains escaped, appearing later in and beneath Mom's Pie Shoppe.

2) The Cult of Pestilence by Gebhard Blucher. The group actually played through a modified version of this adventure prior to the start of the Story Hour. They do utilize the cult's abandoned tunnels to approach Mom's Pie Shoppe, which is written up in the Story Hour, so I mention it.

3) Mom’s Butcher Shop by Cyrus R. Kirby. A wonderful short encounter that I fleshed out into something more using some npc's from The Artist's Loving Touch and a bit of meat from Flying Buffalo's excellent Citybooks. The butcher's shop became a Pie Shoppe and another sinister plot was added for the group to foil - or try to, as the case may be.

4) The Cradle of Madness by Robert Lee. Another Dungeon adventure - this time from issue #87. This one underwent a great deal of modifying before finding its way into the Realms of Enlightenment, but the story kernel is still there.

5) One Day's Journey into Night by Wil Upchurch. Again, this one has been heavily modified, but it is the inspiration for the party's current adventure.

 

[mdougherty331]

Response to Donna

Donna and Russ,

The whole idea is to have fun with the character. I do not always (although most of the time I try to ) do what is in Finian's best interest. If there is something I want to see or do, I do it. It is just a game and it is fun to take risks to be successful. No risk, no reward

Sometimes it seems so clear that Jon wants us to explore something and we do not. Our party plays close to the vest. You should liven things up without putting other party members in too much risk. I never blamed Kirnoth for Soriah's death, finian did, but it was part of the game. It was part of Finian's character to be resentful to you for it and get under your skin, just as it would be Ledare's character to keep us from killing each other. Do not be afraid to be agressive, you will find a friend in Finian if you do.

It seems clear to me that we should push on. It would be ridiculous to leave Kirnoth out here, especially if we are so close
The best part of the game is interacting and staying in touch with friends who live too far away to see.

Russ, I think your character is cool. Finian has not given him a hard time because he would whoop him. Ixin is new and exciting. Oh well I will have to get under Ledare's skin for a while. By the way JP how is her hair growing in? I could surely make fun of that.

I too am unclear of the new rules, so that does make it hard. I feel our party has some untapped strength.

Mark

 

[mdougherty331]

An other thing

Sometimes we know what our character thinks, but it would be interesting to know what everyone else in the party thinks about each others character. I know I want Finian to be perceived as adventerous, brave, some may say foolhardy and annoying, but overall is a good guy who would do anything for his comrades.

We have some preceptions of other characters, but do not know how they think until we play a while. We do not know that much about Draelond yet, or Ruze's powers beyond healing (why he is so different than Soriah). What is Ledare's relationship with that other janissary, what is the deal with Ixin being part dragon. The questions last longer in PBEM, but they keep us interested as do the NPCs (are they still called that?)

I would love(hate) to fight with Heurst and Sir Brin again. They were good bad guys. I REALLY hate them. Maybe they are here (evil laugh inspired I am sure Jon)

Mark

 

[Jon Potter]

Re: An other thing

The questions last longer in PBEM, but they keep us interested as do the NPCs (are they still called that?)

One of the early complements that I remember from any of the players was from Raef (who was playing Soriah at the time). He said that he couldn't tell which of the NPCs (and yes, they're still called that) was important to the story line and which were just there living their lives as 'window dressing'. To me, it was high praise that he thought the charcters were lively and vibrant enough that none of them screamed, "Plot device! Plot device! Talk to me! I'm important!"

I would love(hate) to fight with Heurst and Sir Brin again. They were good bad guys. I REALLY hate them.

Ah, yes. The true mark of a good villain; inspiring hate in the PCs. I'm so proud.

Mark, you'll be happy to know that I know exactly what both Heurist and Sir Brin are up to. Just what that might be will have to wait.

 

[Jon Potter]

Back Story

Don't know if there's any interst in background story, but the online repository of The Grey Companions' story is available here.

It's not precisiely up-to-date, but there is a lot of reading there.

 

[Jon Potter]

Rogue's Gallery Update

I've updated the campaign's Rogue's Gallery thread to add Ixin to the group.

She's the first non-core race in the game and the first templated character (at least that I'm telling about right now), giving her ECL +2. The Drakeling race is from Green Ronin's excellent book, "Arcana: Societies of Magic" and the Draconic Template is from Dragon Magazine #301 for those of you playing along at home.

Since Ixin has +2 ECL, she's the lowest level member of the group, but she's got some interesting racial abilities up her sleeve.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #212] Death from Below

"How about if I scout ahead invisibly using the Slippers to climb the walls to avoid traps or wards," Finian suggested, his voice lowered to a hushed whisper. In response, Ruze groaned and shook his head.

"Alas, it seems here we go again, into to the maw of danger half healed, and half prepared," the Battleguard grumbled. He eyed Ixin critically in the wan light from Finian's longsword. "Our newest recruit can barely bend over to tie her boot," he concluded.

"I will not engage anything, Ruze," the Archer countered. "I'll just do it so I could get a good scope of the situation."

"Like you did outside," the cleric replied and beckoned Ixin to his side. "Come here lass, I whilst not allow someone to die only moments after I have met them." She approached him and Ruze lay one hand on his holy symbol and the other on Ixin's aching side.'My Queen, I beg thee to grant us your queenly gifts once more," he prayed. "Heal this one to her fullest potential."

Silver moonlight swelled under the cleric's hand, suffusing Ixin with healing power and when it faded, her injuries had diminished considerably. The sharp pain in her side had become nothing more than a dull and distant ache such as one might experience from a week-old bruise. She grinned disarmingly at the cleric, her teeth flashing like polished pearls in the dim cave.

"Thank you," she said. "That feels much better."

"Don't thank me," Ruze answered in a self-effacing way. "Thank the Silver Queen. And just to keep you all informed I am going to have to do some serious praying later for all these gifts bestowed upon us."

"Well, I for one certainly appreciate her efforts," Ixin replied. "And yours."

Ruze dismissed her comments and turned toward the Janissary. "We should get on to this business of finding Kirnoth," he said. "Ledare, what are we up to?"

"It might be wise for Finian to again go ahead quietly and see what he can see," Ledare confirmed. "The Slippers and the Ring should be quite useful in that regard and he can be pretty quiet when he puts his mind to it."

Finian had an uncharacteristic moment of hesitation then and looked nervously at the Janissary and the Battleguard. "It occurs to me that these skaven can smell us coming," he reminded. "Remember what happened at Selejian's?"

Ixin knew nothing of Finian and Ruze's petrification at the sculptor's studio, but the concern in the Archer's voice and in both the Janissary's and the Battleguard's expressions told her that there was some risk in being caught by these skaven. The trick, of course, would be not to get caught.

"Martivir could go," the mage suggested, scratching at the downy feather on the owl's chest. The owl seemed to be enjoying the attention until Ixin's suggestion registered. He hooted once in alarm. "Can you go check quietly on the horses without being seen, Marty? I know, but we're not in Highgate anymore. If it is too risky, do not go. I will not risk your death or dismemberment."

The owl shifted its weight on her shoulder from foot to foot for a moment, ruffled its feathers and then took flight across the cavern. It glided silently into the dark fissure on the left side of the cave.

"I'm going to have to let him go hunting later," Ixin told the others. "I hope you have shrews on this world; they're his favorite."

"We have shr-" Finian started to say and the woman held up a hand.

"Marty, do you see anything?" she said and paused as if listening to a reply. "He says that the room smells bad... There are two more of those big worms in there... and... many dead horses. The worms see him... but they don't seem interested in him. There's no other way out through there." As soon as she'd finished relating what her familiar had seen, the owl came gliding back into the chamber, circled once and landed gracefully on Ixin's shoulder.

"Well, it seems that there is no hope for the horses," Ledare muttered. "I see little point in jumping into action against more of those worms."

"Agreed," Draelond said with a grim nod. "I don't see any particular need to rid the world of these things at this time... given the condition we're in."

The others concurred and Finian looked hopefully at Ixin. "Any chance the owl could check out the other passage?" he asked.



"Marty says that the cave down there is as big as this one," Ixin reported once the owl had made its reconnaissance flight and returned to her shoulder. "It smells even worse than the worm cave - like droppings and dead things, he says. He didn't see anything, but he heard some bat sounds coming from somewhere further on, but it was too dark for him to fly on safely."

"I thought owls were used to the dark," Draelond observed and Ixin nodded.

"Dark, yes," she told him. "With moonlight to see by. Not underground like this with nothing but one glowing sword to light the way. Especially not when the sword is in the next chamber. I'm surprised he saw as much as he did."

"That's a good point, Ixin," Finian admitted. "Without a light source, I'm not going to be of much use scouting ahead. And with a light source, the Ring of Invisibility will do me little good."

"Then let's stick close," Ledare suggested. "Finian, you can lead the way, and we'll follow behind. I don't want you getting caught alone too far ahead."

"Don't worry, Ledare," the Archer said. "I will not fight alone. We can tell by the tracks that we are outnumbered so if it appears as if we are being overwhelmed, let's use the smokestick as a diversion to cover our retreat."

It was agreed and the group moved tentatively into the tunnel that led off of the entry chamber. The dirt floor quickly gave way to bare stone worn smooth by the passage of water and many feet. The flowstone descended deeper into the earth as they went, seeming almost like a natural staircase that curved downward. As Martivir had warned, the place stank and they could smell the room before they had stepped out into it. An incredible smell of rot and waste wafted up at them from the cavern, combining all the worst aspects of a charnel house and a midden pit.

Moments later they stepped out into the natural area. Again the owl's scouting proved accurate; the cavern was as large as the one above although this one was wider than it was long. Finian's light very dimly illuminated the room, revealing a dark passageway more-or-less directly across from the one that had lead them there and another along the curve of the wall to their right. The rest of the room hung in darkness. Intermittent keening sounds echoed throughout the cavern from somewhere beyond, and small pools of darkness pocked the cavern floor.

Finian took a few steps into the room and bent to look at one of the pools of darkness on the floor. It was a hole, he saw, likely caused by the same flowing water that had created the 'staircase'. The soft blue glow of his sword revealed glimpses of another cavern below this one. It appeared to be piled high with all manner of foul waste. That was all he had time to register before a dung-colored tentacle erupted up out of the hole and flailed at him. Finian's uncanny reflexes allowed him to avoid the first such attack, but not the second, which sprang up from another hole behind him. A tentacle as thick as his forearm and covered with rough, thorny protrusions wrapped itself roughly around his right shin. It squeezed his limb savagely and began to tug him toward the small dark hole in the floor.