The Risen Goddess (Updated 3.10.08)

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Meta-game notes: As soon as the other DM in this campaign took the group to the Forgotten Realms, I knew that I wanted to make a specific statement. I remembered with chagrin the old FR modules where Elminster or Khelben would show up at the end of the PC’s adventure in order to save them and resolve the plot. I wanted the Champions of the Risen Goddess to show up at the end of Elminster’s module and save him for a change! With the Heart of Nightfang Spire, I got my chance.

The party’s return of Palatin Eremath’s stars to the night sky had attracted the curiosity of the Realm’s great personages, and as we shall soon see, Elminster and Khelben had became embroiled in a deific plot line that they did not understand, and could not resolve.

Enter Taran, Thelbar, Kyreel and Indy to save the day.

In order to provide a rationale why a pair of powerful wizards could be so helpless, I realized that godly magic would have to be involved. If Corellon Larethian banished this temple to a guarded demi-plane, and bound Gulthais within a sealed anti-magic zone, it made sense that a wish might get the wizards in, but not out again. Sort of a Roach Motel for archmagi.

Thanks to the Rat Bastards over at the Aquerra boards for the mechanics of this idea.

The boss-fight needed a re-think if it was to prove any sort of challenge for the group within an antimagic zone. So I made the main villain a high-level monk, and had gleeful visions of the party fighting him tooth and claw without their magic armor or weapons. Of course, it didn’t work out that way, but the fight played to my benefit at any rate. We’ll be meeting that villain again, I’m sure, as the truth of the Risen Goddess and her history with the elven pantheon reveals itself further.

 

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47—Home again, home again.

The six figures stand outside the golden doors—Taran with his hands on his knees, still trying to fully gather his breath after taking a vicious blow from Gutlhais. Indianichus examines the writing on the doors, using a light spell to ward off the long shadows from the cliff walls. Kyreel, Thelbar, Ahl-Ithevia and Elminster stand huddled, discussing the implications of recent events. Khelben had excused himself immediately after exiting the demi-plane, and citing pressing business, teleported into the ethers.

Elminster proves himself more of a gentleman than his arrogant companion, and takes the arm of the elderly elven holy woman, leading her toward the party’s nearby campsite. As they walk, he tells the group of how he came to find himself the blood-slave of an elven vampire.

Khelben had contacted him a week ago, and told him that there was a cult making noise in Waterdeep about the mystery of the new stars—claiming that they were responsible, and that the stars heralded the return of an ancient elven goddess. Worse yet, the rumor was that this cult was preaching an anti-elven agenda, speaking out against the return of the elves to Faerun. Elminster, always known to be an elf-friend, and widely rumored (true, he asserts) to be one of the primary architects of the Elven Return, determined to look in to the matter, and if there was any trouble, to deal with it.

He conferred with his goddess through potent divinations, and asked her to name the one person unaffiliated with the cult who knows or will know the most about their history, goals and practices. He was given Ahl-Ithevia, a name he had recognized immediately for her prominent role within her church. But Ahl-Ithevia’s superiors could not produce her, and told Elminster that she had gone alone to the Great Scar. Unobserved, he discovered her arguing the golden doors and determined that whatever lay beyond, it would be better for everyone if he crossed the boundary, rather than wait for an elven religious debate to be concluded! “After all,” he says, “despite rumors to the contrary, I won’t live forever.”

He contacted Khelbin Blackstaff, and confident that they would prove more than a match for whatever they might find on the other side of the golden doors, he wished the two of them into the heart of the matter. Literally.

Gulthais fell upon them, and without access to their magics, the two most famous wizards of Faerun were essentially helpless. Gutlthais had drained them leisurely for days, but surely would have soon killed them both. Elminster the Sage of Shadowdale, and Khelben Arunsun owe the party their lives.

For their part, Thelbar and Kyreel explain the truth of the new stars, and their role in returning them. They tell their stunned audience about the Risen Goddess, her relationship to the elven pantheon, and her new role as the creator of the pasoun.

Ahl-Ithevia is shocked speechless. After several silent hours where she either meditates or prays, she thanks the group for their assistance, and uses a word of recall to travel home. Elminster as well, regards the group with a canny expression and takes his leave, promising to be in touch. Before he disappears, he says “If I can ever be of assistance to you—just call on me.”

The four Champions of the Risen Goddess look at one another, then prepare to head home.

“Hey Thel,” Taran says, “you forgot to ask him about your mage-fair.”

Thelbar smiles to himself and pats his brother on the shoulder. “Oh, I won’t have to ask his permission for anything ever again, brother.”

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Within days, Thelbar has begun construction of his mage’s college at Mistledale. Taran has returned to the steady ritual of training his Riders, and Kyreel and Indy fall to crafting magic items. Kyreel enhances the weapons and armor of the Champions, and presents Taran with a sun blade—- a bastard sword identical to Black Lisa in size and mass, but magically light. The sun blade is balanced like a shorter weapon, allowing Taran to wield it in his off hand. He names his new sword Little Sister, and takes to gleefully engaging his top lieutenants in live-edge sparring matches. His select group of top-shelf warriors begins making a reputation for themselves as unusually hard men, and tenacious combatants.

Thelbar crafts a robe of the archmagi for himself, deigning not to name it, but assuring the group that his enemies will have more to fear now than ever before. Kyreel crafts a bastard sword for herself, a flaming, holy weapon.

In all, the group spends three months researching spells, training, crafting magic items, and in the case of Taran, staying drunk and cavorting with Jhanira Barasstan, the local priestess of Chauntea. Juron and Glim slowly adapt to life as domestic servants, for despite their role helping Taran to train the Riders of Mistledale, they spend the majority of their time keeping up the adventurer’s household, and running errands.

After this three-month span, Indy announces that he can no longer remain with the group. He is incensed that the party has brushed aside his repeated assertions that his lady-love Evaliegh is in need of assistance. He announces that if his so-called adventuring companions won’t fly to his aid, he will go it alone. That next morning, Indy leaves for the gate to Greyhawk, and vows not to return until he has found a cure for Evaliegh’s condition.

 

[Circle of Crows]

You go, Indy!

 

[incognito]

I hope Indy ends up saving the party's bacon as an unintended result of this Balls-y move!

Taran and Thelbar don't give him enough credit!

 

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Indy and Vognu, just after the Druid/Nymph incident. Note his flowing mullet, the de rigueur 3rd edition halfling haircut.

 

[incognito]

Ribbit!

 

[Circle of Crows]

Indy and Vognu, just after the Druid/Nymph incident. Note his flowing mullet, the de rigueur 3rd edition halfling haircut.

Indy was resurected as :

1() A Halfling member of the Mexican World Cup Team
2() A Halfling lesbian
3() A Halfling ex-member of Skid-Row
4() A Hockey player

Remember, only use No. 2 pencils, please.

 

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!

"Indianichus tiene la bola. Abajo del lado izquierdo . . . Al Llamosa en el centro. De nuevo a Indy. Es Indy. ¡Todavía Indy! ¡Él está todo solo, nadie es marca él! ¡Él golpea con el pie! ¡Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool! ¡Golgolgolgolgolgolgol goooooooooooooooooooooool!"

 

[darkbard]

**doink**

 

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Below is a repost of Chapter 47, but in its entirety. Remember when I said that I thought that we weren't as hard on these PCs because they are so old and dear, etc.?

Hah.

Read on . . .