The Stepchildren of Fate (Updated 6/3)

[htetickrt]

There are some great Eduardo stories from prior adventures. Eduardo had a habit of disappearing periodically and, upon returning... we learned it was better not to ask where he had been or what he had been doing. A personal and group fave is his infamous explanation for how he managed to get himself thrown into prison. "What? I was just walking along!" Classic. Not sorry to see him die, though, seeing as his sworn goal in life was to kill us.

The funniest part of the episode was that half of the players didn't get what was so hilarious, while the other half abruptly burst out laughing and all but fell off their chairs. Good times....

Work progresses slowly, so another update soon.

 

[htetickrt]

The Real World: Cave
​

Trella whispers to Dobi, “Ask the newbie a question only she would be able to answer. Or try and bait her with a false statement which the real Quid would know is in error.” The druid’s eyes are shadowed. “Given past experiences, verifying identity is important to me.”
While Dobi ponders this for a second, the blond haired newcomer looks back at him quizzically, with a more wary gaze applied to the array of characters around him. "Umm..." she says quietly, rubbing the coin tied around her neck, "I don't quite remember your name."

At this Dobi straightens up, doffs his chapeau with his well-practiced flourish, and bows deeply, "I am sorry my fair lady, I seem to have put you at a disadvantage, we met at a trade conference in Cormyr, and I believe you know my cousin. But…let me start again. I am Sir Dobius of Elderberry, of His Majesty's and Her Regency's…"

"Dobster!" exclaims Quid, as she rushes up and gives Dobi a hug, lifting him briefly off the ground. Dobi is slightly discomfited by the sudden burst of affection, but makes sure to nod to his companions that Quid is harmless, lest they get the wrong idea about her intentions. Meanwhile, Quid ruffles Dobi's hair. "Why, you were just a wee chap when last I saw you, well you still are a wee chap, but you were much younger then."

"Yes well..."

"Your cousin Elbo is doing well. Though, ever since Chief Tripod started seeking revenge, we have had to keep him inside the mission walls, safely protected by our lady, Waukeen. Bad for profits this revenge business, though the church nets a tidy profit letting the locals place bets on what Elbo's going to do to the poor Chief next. I think the current odds are 3:1 that the chief will wind up turned into a jungle newt before the next moon."

“I of course believe you, milady, but it is still conceivable that you could have eavesdropped on my telling of the same tale earlier. Can you offer more substantive proof of your identity?”

Quid purses her lips, trolling her memory for aid. To her relief, she finds some. "Aha! If proof of my identity you want, Elbo told me to tell you something in case I ever happened upon you in my travels." Before Dobi can answer, Quid is upon him again, pulling off his boots and tickling the underside of his feet. Soon Dobi and Quid are giggling uncontrollably on the dusty cave floor, leaving the others to gape in surprise.

Between fits of laughter, Quid explains, "Elbo always said Dobi was a pretty poor halfling, being so ticklish under his feet…."

Kai tries to look stern rather than eager while she inquires of Quid, "Where did you come here from? Do you know what this place is?"

Trella listens to Kai's questions and then asks Dobi quietly, "So, you're satisfied she's who she says she is?"

Quid and Dobi pick themselves off the ground, neither answering immediately. Quid looks around, embarrassed and discomfited. "Ahh, I'm not sure what came over me, sorry. Uh, so Dobster, who are these people?"

Dobi quickly regains his composure. "Quid, I'd like to introduce you to Andy, Buttercup, Cerridwin, Danek, Earl, Jaalask, Kai, Khail, Kyree, Rhien, Snicker, Trella—an odd assortment of recent acquaintances that have proved themselves true thus far—and Andy, Buttercup, Cerridwin, Danek, Earl, Jaalask, Kai, Khail, Kyree, Rhien, Snicker, Trella, I'd like you to meet—I am fairly sure of this—Quidlyn of Waukeen, late of Maztica, though how she finds herself here I have no idea." Lenara and Steve both snort their displeasure over being left out, though the former quickly resumes her enraptured gazing at Khail's broad chest*.

Quid relaxes somewhat. "Oh, that's simple enough. While exploring some of the uncharted reaches of Maztica, looking for business opportunities for the church, one of the journeymen came across a portal, which was news of considerable excitement as it could lead to a dramatically shortened trade route between Maztica and Amn and reduce transportation costs by a significant margin. So, being willing and a bit bored by the desk duties I had been assigned to of late, the church sent me.

"Which brings me here, at your service." As she finishes she attempts to find the hem of her skirt, a gesture that fails due to her lack of same. The Waukeenar shrugs abashedly and continues to execute a well-practiced and formal curtsey despite her decidedly informal apparel.

Trella ignores the formalities, as is her wont. "Nice to meet you. I'm Trella, the resident woodsy lore type. Always good to have another priest around." Her comments are made with some jest, but there's a darker edge to the second.

"And oh so nice to meet you Trella," replies Quid sweetly. "I'm sure we'll get along famously." She unconsciously fingers her machete, muttering "tree-hugger" under her breath.

Andy slaps the dust from his tunic, smoothes back his hair, and performs a grand and formal bow to Quid. Behind him, Trella makes a noise distinctly like retching.

"Most fair Goldeye of Waukeen, it is a distinct honor and a pleasure to meet a true lady. Methinks we should retire sometime to listen to a bard while dining on sushi and coffee. Does that appeal?" He flashes her a wide grin and seems genuinely friendly. At least to those who have not seen him in action before.

Quid looks back at Andy with a discerning eye, instantly assessing his apparent net worth. "Why, that's so very sweet," says Quid, hardly suppressing a genuinely amused giggle, "You just keep right on practicing that line, and I'm sure it’s bound to work on someone."

Andy shrugs, clearly hurt to be shot down so quickly. "Well, the invitation is an open one. See you around. I guess." Realizing how stupid he sounds, he adds, "Nice place we've got here, huh?" After this he shuts his mouth at last.

Quid’s gaze softens in response to the monk’s verbal flailing. "This place of yours is very nice," she says kindly, taking Andy's hand in her own, and looking straight into his eyes. "I'm sure we can find some desperate lass of the appropriate station for you."

Not sure how to take this, Andy backs off, despite now harboring the notion that Quid secretly wants him in a "dirty" way.

Kai’s suspicion diminishes a little, but she doesn't relax her stance. "Why would they send you all alone to explore an unknown portal? You nearly walked into a dragon's lair." Quid, however, is lost in thought, perhaps calculating the potential pecuniary benefit obtainable by one who sets up a system for matching those like Andy with appropriate mates. She doesn’t immediately answer.

Danek, finally overcoming her discomfiture at the continued occurrence of weird events, and at the appearance of yet another attractive female who seems to like Dobi, uses the opportunity to sidle over to the only male with whom she's yet established any kind of rapport. "What's a Goldeye?" she asks Rhien in a low voice.

Rhien smiles genuinely. "A Goldeye serves Waukeen, a Power of trade, wealth, and the like."

Roused by the question from his own musings, the monk greets Quid. “I am pleased to meet you, Waukeenar, but I am afraid it would be difficult to be at our service, as we have little definite plans at the moment. Do you by any chance have an answer to Kai's questions? I would be greatly interested to know if the portal you took placed you in an expected place or an unexpected one. If the latter, do you know where you are?"

Quid starts. "Ah, excuse me.” She recovers swiftly. “And well met to you as well, Rhien, is it? It was indeed an unexpected place and an unknown portal. I was sent alone because the Church of Waukeen is horribly understaffed in Maztica as it is; so many heathens to be shown the light, so much profit to be made. I, unfortunately, have been in Waukeen's service long enough to be relegated to mostly desk work, which is why when one of our emissaries returned with news of an uncharted portal, I jumped at the chance to figure out where it led, insisting that no one else in the organization could be spared."

"Is there a dragon nearby?" says Quid. "Hmm," she calculates. "That will have to be dealt with if we are ever to establish this portal as a viable route for trade. Any idea what kind of dragon? And actually, I was hoping you could tell me where we are."

Trust amongst those assembled is not easily earned, and so a tense silence follows. Luckily for Kyree, who was fast growing bored with the proceedings, the stalemate is broken by the sudden appearance through the portal of a tribe of loudly arguing orcs. The odiferous humanoids, nearly a score strong, strain the carrying capacity of the cave.

Though the meeting of orc and adventurer is a surprise to both sides, it takes but moments for weapons to be drawn and battle stances taken. Showing admirable restraint, Trella asks Kai before charging, "What were they saying?"

The only one not to ready an offensive, Kai looks confused. "They were arguing about the age of the dragon above us, and wondering if they had enough firepower to keep injury to themselves to a minimum." Trella's answering look of incomprehension nicely sums up most of the group's understanding of the situation.

Dobi and Quid, being more recent residents of Faerun, do not share this confusion, though their reactions are markedly different. Quid's eyes narrow and her fists clench at her side. She mutters something angrily about stolen goods and the need for respect of private property, but takes no other overt action.

In contrast, Dobi relaxes. "I forgot you haven't been around for a while,” he whispers. “These aren't evil orcs, though they're not precisely good either. That," Dobi indicates the heraldic device of a black morning star over a red-tinted mountain range, "signifies their allegiance to the Chaos B*tch. They're only really a danger to us if they believe we're evil. Of course, they're not always so bright, so this could end up in battle yet."

Long, nimble fingers toying with fletching indicate Kyree's opinion of the newcomers. Khail, putting together the facts by virtue of his personal animosity**, storms off to the front of the cave.

The lead orc, arrayed in well-made plate mail and hefting a gleaming shield and jet-black Morningstar in either hand, looks the party over with a practiced eye. He addresses the group haltingly in Common, "Why you in our caves? You evil? Work with drow?"

*Khail and Lenara’s player is often absent from our discussions, leaving his characters open for our—particularly my—amusement. This is one such instance.

**The Stepchildren met said Chaos B*tch a long time ago. Khail in particular did not get along with her. Unfortunately for him, since the time he met her (and attacked her), she’s become a lesser Power in my modified Realmsian pantheon, so he’s unlikely to get another chance.

 

[htetickrt]

A Very Unusual Orc​

Trella whispers to Kai, "Uh, if you don't want this to end with a brawl, I suggest you do all the talking. Try to assure them that we didn't know this was their cave, blah-blah-blah." Kai glances at her; Trella smiles and taps her staff in her palm softly in response. Kyree stands quietly ready nearby, resisting the urge simply to kill all the orcs.
Kai sighs and steps forward. "We're not evil," she says in Orcish. "We didn't know these caves belong to anyone, and we didn't mean to trespass."

The lead orc replies in Common, "Caves not ours. Mountains belong to no one; here for all." An orc in the back row rolls his eyes. "You not trespass. We just surprised." The leader bares his tusks. Buttercup does the same.

Kai smiles, amused. "If you have visited these caves often, is it your dragon up there?"

The leader responds, "Not our dragon. Lady funny. We kill dragon, take stuff. Get strong, maybe get first crack at best stuff back home." The orc waves his hands vaguely westward. Looking suspicious again, he asks, "You no answer question. You work with drow?"

Kai shakes her head, her brow furrowed. "Are there drow around here?"

The porcine humanoid replies, "Many drow. Boil up from Underdark like roaches. Stomp them but still more come, raid towns. We come to kill drow, get blamed for raids. Make us angry. All stupid drow stuff turns to dust in light anyway. What good is that? Munchkins make fun of me for bringing black plate that melted. Seem good when on drow fighter. Didn't save him. Hah!" The orc laughs loudly, slapping his knee. Several orcs in the back roll their eyes, but most do snort politely.

Growing more serious, the orc says, "You seem smart, but you have weird group in small cave. You no kill dragon, so you not here for that. Me think you not know where you are." After a long pause to think, the orc concludes, "You look like men think pretty. They believe you. We take you to people if you promise to tell them that we no have raid, no kill men who not bad. Deal?"

Kyree smiles and relaxes a bit from his ready position, appreciating the goals and aims of these—to his mind—unusually wise orcs. He remains silent, open to the possibility of helping the orcs in their appeal to the others but really wanting them to go fight the dragon. He is surprised to realize that he doesn’t really hope that they lose, either.

Khail speaks up. "Do you know what kind of dragon it is? I would never suffer an attack of a noble creature."

Lenara sighs. Khail glances back somewhat uncomfortably.

The lead orc's eyes widen in what appears to be a mixture of surprise and fear. He stammers, "Red dragon! It red dragon up mountain. We never attack good dragon! Never!" Calming down slightly, the orc adds as if by rote, "Metal dragons good. We protect them if need it. Chromatic dragons bad. We kill them, take their stuff. Gem dragons middle. Wait to see with them, but no attacking first." The leader looks proud of himself. More orcs in the back roll their eyes, but none seem fit to add their thoughts.

Trella stands alongside Khail and Kai to make her allegiance known. She says, "You don't seem to be the types to make raids like common brigands, and drow are dirty like that, so I think we would be willing to speak on your behalf assuming you can provide us proof beyond your word that drow are the true raiders." To prevent a misunderstanding of her comment, she quickly adds, "I just mean it would be helpful to have rock solid proof when we confront the townspeople. Folks under attack tend to be suspicious of large groups of strangers showing up to speak up on the behalf of orcs. Villagers can be stupid like that." Tapping her chin for a moment, she adds, "But, didn't you say that you work for someone? Why don't you have that person speak for you? They would certainly know you better than we do."

At Trella's initial suggestion, the lead orc waves his arm at one in the middle row, who starts rummaging around in a big sack. This orc produces a severed drow head, which he hands to the leader by the hair. When Trella finishes, the leader bristles at her mention of working for someone. "We own orcs. No work for no one. Follow teachings of Munchkin Queen. She teach us to use stuff we take when kill things. Other orcs dumb, put stuff in big pile for men to take later. Stupid orcs. We smart, use stuff ourselves." Several more orcs continue their practice of eye rolling. The leader shakes the severed head at Trella emphatically, splattering slight bits of gore around him. "But we not follow around others who kill good people! We kill bad people, follow who help us get strong. No take scraps from bad men who tell orcs what to do." Calming down, the orc looks almost sheepish with the drow head. "You think this good for proof? We cut off drow who try to take stuff from village. Drow stuff all melt, but not drow head. Or body, but we eat that. Stringy."

Trella replies, "Lovely, and thanks for sharing your life story, too." To her friends, she says, "Anybody have a good reason not to go and speak on behalf of these shockingly foresighted and good orcs? If not, then I guess we should decide what to do about the dragon. I'm up for some cave cleaning first."

Andy pipes up from the back. "You're trusting a bunch of orcs? Are you dumb or naive?"

Furious, Trella storms back to Andy, shoves him to the floor, presses her staff to his throat and says menacingly, "I've killed for less than what you just said. Remember that."

Andy is silent after his release.

Back to the group, and with a wink for anyone who was surprised by her words or deeds, she says, "So anybody got something to say?"

Kyree says, "Well, if they think they can defeat the dragon on their own, I say we let them try. If they succeed, I'd be happy for us to go speak on their behalf, using their single-handed defeat of an evil dragon as evidence. If they fail, then their mission of killing the dragon," he pauses for a second, as if considering saying something further, but simply concludes with, "would fall to us."

Rhien, who has been looking decidedly uncomfortable at the whole "kill them and take their stuff" discussion, comments, "If their 'quest' were to fail, who then would take us somewhere recognizable? I would vote to aid them on their noble task first, providing any aid we so choose to them later. But I will abide by the will of the council. Er, party."

Trella says, "Good point, Rhien. Look, even if members of the group do not wish to aid in the dragon fight, I am willing to accompany them, alone even, because evil chromatic dragons are a disease and I'm the cure. Anyway, I don't think we need to have an all-or-none vote on this, do we? We barely know half the people here, and I don't think I'm comfortable putting them on the spot. Anybody like-minded can follow, but I'm going to help the orcs kill the dragon." After a pause, she adds, "Boy, there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear myself say...."

Kyree says, "Well, I guess now's as good a time as any to see what this thing can do," as he manifests his bow.

Cerridwin checks her equipment and moves behind Kyree, clearly ready to follow him.

Kai sighs again. "Isn't anybody else here just tired?" she asks plaintively. "I for one could do with a little less fire and danger and excitement right now and am looking forward to a bath and a real bed. Doesn't anybody else want to go home?"

Danek looks unhappy and eyes the rest of the group.

Rhien slowly rubs his shaved head, looking far older than his twenty-four years. "I too would love to go home, such as it is. While I understand the desire to rid the world of an evil beast, my point remains. Even with our help—which they might not want, since it will diminish their haul of 'stuff' should we win—we might lose. We have no idea of their capabilities, and we are not at our strongest. Perhaps we should take the cautious route and find a way back before tackling the dragon, after acquiring more potent defensive capabilities."

Trella places a reassuring hand on Kai's shoulder. "I've never really had a home, except the grove my mentor tended what seems like ages ago, but I understand you are weary. I guess my way of dealing with it is, well, to kick some flying lizard tail. Different strokes, right?" She smiles and shrugs, moving to face Rhien. Her face clouds. "I don't know that these orcs are willing to wait."

Trella turns to the orc leader. "You, uh, did you say your name? I have a short attention span. Anyway, I assume you guys came prepared to fight a red meanie, right? So far, looks like there are three of us willing to fight, but more might join if you have some spare protection scrolls or similar magic. Whatever we borrow would be taken out of our share of the haul, and speaking for myself only I have few material needs and will not stake claim to anything in the dragon's hoard except stuff that was meant for use exclusively by druid or ranger kind or things with uses against such people or stuff to destroy forests, trees, and stuff I like. I'm high maintenance sometimes, but you'll just have to deal. Okay?"

Kyree speaks up. "I'm happy to be fair and reasonable in the distribution of treasure, but given Trella's comments, I feel that it's appropriate to note that I would be...uncomfortable with giving up claims to any part of the hoard without seeing it first. I should also point out that Trella and I can't speak for our new companions here."

The orcs begin to look suspicious during Trella's speech, growing hostile while Kyree talks. The lead orc responds angrily as the elf falls silent, "You say you good, so we offer to help. Now you say you want take kill and stuff from us? This good? We no want help from you. We learn take care of selves. We scout big dragon, do leg work. Have plan, bring protection for us. We want kill, want stuff. No want share with weird strangers who want our protection. You try kill dragon, we no stop you. But we no help you, and we no bring you anywhere. No show you how use portals in mountains."

His piggish eyes squint at the group. "Tired of talking. You decide now. You go try kill dragon now, we leave, come back, take your stuff if you lose. You come with us, tell men that we no attack them, we show you how use portals. You come take our stuff later if we lose and you still want fight. That it."

Trella replies to the orcs through narrowed eyes. "Your band seems quite capable without any unwanted help. My offer to speak on your behalf to the villagers stands. Best of luck to you." Her tone carries disgust and signifies an end of her participation in the discussion.

Turning her back to the orcs, the druid whispers to Kyree, "In future negotiations, I'd suggest fewer of us speak directly with the other parties involved, particularly when the other parties are so unusual." With that she makes a motion to confer with the rest of the party, Kai and Rhien in particular, about resting for a bit.

Kyree replies earnestly, "That was a negotiation? I was just volunteering to help against the dragon, and being honest with my expectations." He shrugs. "Oh, well. I guess we're back to my original suggestion: letting them try and seeing what happens."

Rhien says dryly, "I get the impression that the orcs' motivation is not entirely noble. Had we offered to help without recompense," Rhien pauses meaningfully here, "then I believe they would have accepted. Regardless, I am not unhappy about giving the dragon a miss. Perhaps we should perform the duty that Trella offered them first, however, in case their skill doesn't match their swagger. I for one would like to know where I am."

Apparently patience is not an orcish trait without the whip to enforce it, and the orcs begin to grumble. Their leader, not quite as foolish as he appears, recognizes this and moves to act. Addressing the party, he says, "Okay, seem you want wait for us come back. That okay. We go fight now, kill dragon, get stuff. We come back, take you through portal. You tell men we nice orcs, no kill them. Tell about dragon we kill, drow too. Then we tell about portals. That deal."

On their leader's signal, the orcs file back into the portal, which apparently has more than one destination.

Trella shrugs, "Sounded like negotiations to me, but, what do I know, I'm a druid, not a diplomat." With the orcs gone, she relaxes. "We should post a watch near the portal, but they won't be back anytime soon."

Keeping her voice lowered so as not to attract suspicion, Trella asks her fellow Stepchildren, "What about these new arrivals? They seem nice enough and all, but given the kinds of things we have hunting us, I think we should see to their safety quickly. What do you think?"

Kai looks thoughtfully over at Danek, who looks away. In the same low voice, she replies, "With luck, we're in between huntings right now. If that's the case, it should be safer for them to stay with us than not. We can try to send them away if things start getting ugly. I could teleport them."

Rhien says, "If not for this odd connection they seem to have with us, I would send them somewhere safe immediately. As it is, I would imagine that their changes have made home a tenuous concept, even if we could find their world, and it would appear that most of them do not want to leave us, so I don't think we have much choice. I would vote to give them the least dangerous jobs, regardless."

Danek makes out a few of the words, clenches her fists, and mutters, "You can't tell us what to do. We're going with you anyway."

Kai raises her eyebrows and gives a half smile. Trella snorts, while Rhien remains expressionless.

Dobi sniffs at the insinuation that, he, Sir Dobius of Highhedge, of all people needs protection. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Though I should like to visit the nearest city sometime soon and check in with the local Cormyrian embassy. Duty and all that. But, you chaps seem skilled at finding good fun trouble. I think I'll hang my hat with your lot for a while at least," he concludes, merrily inviting himself to join the group whether welcomed or not.

Dobi’s cheerful voice rouses Quid from her reverie. “Where did the orcs go? I was going to make an offer,” she exclaims.

Trella raises an eyebrow. “They’re gone, off to fight the dragon.”

"Who cares about that silly dragon's hoard anyway," Quid opines to nobody in particular. "The real profits are to be made from the potential trade routes that can be opened up once the caves are cleared and a deal can be struck with those wretched orcs."

“Whatever.” Trella looks away.

Quid pauses for a second, her hand absentmindedly brushing aside a stray wisp of hair. "So long as you're just going to sit around here and await their return, I might as well go and see if they could use any help, and perhaps collect a favor. No sense in having them needlessly die. That would be a waste—and a dead weight loss—even if they are dirty smelly orcs. Anyone else interested? I have a few protection and teleport spells if it comes to that. Assuming we can catch up to them anyway." Without the activation procedure, the Waukeenar merely stumbles in the dark near where the orcs first arrived.

Quid is jostled aside by the crush of gray-skinned humanoids unexpectedly returning. Several of their number are singed or scratched, but by and large the damage appears to be minimal, given what they were intending to do. Their expressions, rather than jubilant, tend more towards anger and anxiety, with occasional flashes of fear.

Their leader snaps out of his contemplation with an effort. "We done. Take you away now. Come with us."

Trella's curiosity does not allow it to end here, and she demands, "What happened? You were barely gone at all."

The orc leader angrily peels off a layer of burnt flesh on his arm while answering, "Dragon small, like horse. Young. No stuff take. Either too dumb know we here, or spy. Spy bad."

Looking up with a surprising shrewdness in his porcine eyes, the orc ends with, "Not your problem. We take you men. You tell men we no raid them, we tell you how use portals. That deal."

The druid sighs and nods her assent. At their leader's signal, orcs shove each other out of the way, clearing a path for the party to enter the portal. With some trepidation, the group follows the slayer of dragons through the now-active portal. The world lurches.

 

[htetickrt]

A note on Quid and the orcs

Just in case following a story with twelve characters and a bunch of odd orcs is as confusing to follow as it was to run, I offer this small bit of additional info.

benho created Dobi and joined the lower-level party's bizarre adventures near their conclusion. When I decided to merge that party with the Stepchildren, which were five levels higher, I gave him the option of creating a new character of greater experience. Quid is the result of this. She falls under the "dragged along for the ride" category above, and is a female human cleric13. Actually she started off as a ranger1/cleric12, but I converted partially to 3.5E in the middle of the campaign and let him remove her ranger level.

The weird orcs have a much longer history, with the first of their number dating back to most of our first foray into 2E (we had run one campaign in 1E before that). Greywalker was running us through the old "Terrible Trouble in Tragiadore" adventure, and during it my character decided to spare one of the orcs for no good reason. His name was Droola and he was fairly typical of 2E orckind, being smelly and stupid and all that, but we took a liking to him, and he became a regular.

Eventually he got his own following of orcs and orogs, all of whom talked like he did. Among other things, over the years they've helped control Daggerdale, where this campaign takes place. They now have a castle in the nearby mountains. They're mostly straight chaotic in ethos, valuing strength above all else, but they also have a strong sense of loyalty and are fundamentally pragmatic.

 

[htetickrt]

A Quest Offered
​

Vision blurry from the transport resolves into a larger-than-usual hamlet roughly a half-mile away, ringed by solid, if damaged, stone walls. A glance reveals only a smattering of farms near the town, due to its proximity to the mountains on three sides, likely indicating a reliance on mining by its residents. The orc captain points out the town with stubby fingers. "There Dagger Falls. Many people, strong. Dig in rock like dwarves; make stuff too. We sell gems we find for stuff to fight Zhents in North. That before men think we raid. Now no more sell, can't get new stuff. No one else like us. We go in, you tell them we no raid. We show drow head. Then we buy stuff again."
Trella nods, lost in thought. Lenara, her dwarven nature awakened, gasps at the mention of a forge and briefly breaks into a run toward the town before remembering that this might confuse Khail. The beautiful wizard slows her gait slightly, but has difficulty reining in her excitement.

Quid moves to the fore, her mercantile nature overcoming any distaste of the orcs. "I was not aware that the citizens of Daggerdale had managed to recover any measure of prosperity since reclaiming their lands from the Zhents. Is Randall Morn still in command?"

The orc leader puffs out his chest, proudly answering, "He in charge, but we help lots. With no orcs, Zhents come down, crush little town. We grow fast in mountains, make Zhents split attacks. They no win. Years ago I one of orcs who run whole Dale, but we no hold it without Munchkin Queen. Now we work with men, make good dale." His face darkening, the leader adds, "That why important we make friends again. Not all orcs so happy with friends. If no useful, some want raid again. Take stuff, smash men. Not follow plan then, orcs cast out. Bad, like old days. Some orcs stupid, not see this."

Quid nods sagely before changing the subject. "How much of an area can those portals take you to?"

No dummy despite his speech and appearance, the orc leader answers, "You find out when give us what we want." He abruptly turns away after this, addressing those in his command in the whispered tongue of orcs.

The rest of the trip passes swiftly, and soon the party finds itself in front of a sturdy wooden gate, oddly closed at present despite the early hour. Once the group is within fifty feet of the walls, a voice booms from the interior of the town. "We told you not to return, orcs! We were once friends, but you have shown your true nature!"

Several orcs bristle at this, but their leader holds them back. "We no show nothing. We come prove you we friends, no raid you. We find these men in mountains, they good. You talk them. They explain all pretty." The orc nudges Trella forward. Trella, in turn, nudges Kai forward. Kai sighs and moves in front of the large group, her hands up in a gesture of peace.

"My friends," she begins, "these orcs, as strange as it may seem, speak the truth."

"Why should we believe you any more than them?" the disembodied voice queries.

Kai executes a graceful half-bow, half-curtsey. "I am Kitailla Imana of Waterdeep, and these are my friends and fellow adventurers Trella, druid of Silvanus, Kyree, elven archer, Khail, paladin of Torm, and Rhien, monk of Ilmater. We have had a part in bringing Mishakal, mistress of healing, to the Realms*, quested on behalf of Elminster the Mage of Shadowdale**, and slain a pit fiend from deepest Baator at the height of his power***. We seek audience with Randall Morn."

Such is the force of Kai's personality that even those of the guard who do not believe her are awed into silence. The newer members of the large band fare similarly, for a brief time viewing these five poorly dressed strangers as beings arrived straight out of an epic. Then the moment passes, and a different voice speaks from inside the walls.

"Your speech is pretty, young lady, but it carries with it no more reason for belief than the orcs' claims. In kinder times we would grant you entry, but these are not they, and we must bar the gates even during the daylight."

Kai is not finished, however, and motions for the orc leader to come forward. The sorceress then exclaims, "If you would not believe my words, believe this!" On her signal, the leader pulls the severed drow head from the sack, holding it before him like an offering.

"These orcs you spurn have slain the drow raiders, aiding your cause, just as they slew a red dragon in the mountains earlier this day. Stand with them, or let your enemies conquer you separately!"

A long pause follows Kai's concluding remarks, during which time the orcs shuffle their feet nervously. Eventually the gate does begin to open, however, revealing a man whose noble bearing belies the attire of one more at home in battle than sitting on a gilded throne. Flanked by twenty well-armed guards, his jet hair whipping behind him in a sudden wind, the hereditary ruler of Daggerdale approaches the party with a smile twitching at the edges of his upturned mouth.

After introductions, Randall says, "That was quite a speech, my dear Kitailla. May I ask how these orcs acquired so eloquent an advocate?"

Kai spreads out her arms and opens her palms. "Chance, nothing more. We believed their tale, and they aided us in exchange for our conveying of it to you. May I take your presence as a sign that you too believe it?"

Randall Morn can no longer suppress his amusement. "Aye, I believe it. I've always found something fairly convincing about a severed head." He chuckles. "But are the pretty words around the head all true?"

Trella steps forward then, saying with authority, "To the letter."

Randall looks impressed. "Then your presence is most fortuitous for us as well as the orcs."

Before explaining his comment, Randall turns to the porcine humanoids, inclining his head slightly to their leader. "Please accept our apologies, friend orc, for falsely accusing you of the raids on our farms. The suddenness of the attacks coupled with their viciousness took us by surprise, and we were too quick to blame you for them. I hope we can put this behind us during these troubled times, and move forward again in friendship."

The lead orc snorts, answering, "We like stuff with apology, but we accept words anyway. Orcs come soon with gems to trade. You let in, right?"

Randall smiles. "Of course. And rest assured your orcs will receive fair prices upon their arrival."

The orc leader bares his tusks. "That better. Me tell orcs this, maybe they lose stupid ideas. I go now talk to them."

Turning from Randall, the orc leader addresses the party. "I worry about you take our stuff, but you do good with deal. We never go back on word." The orc grabs a token from a belt pouch that matches the symbol on his armor. "Carry this into gate and think of where you want go. You go then. Many gates in mountains. One gate in front of orc castle. Me Grisnark. You ask for me if come castle." Grisnark gives the token to Trella and moves off back the way the party came with his small horde.

Randall Morn cuts the parting short, drawing the group's attention back to him. "I must say, no matter how many times I interact with those orcs I'm surprised. Years of fighting against slavering packs of them doesn't leave one ready for a civilized relationship.

"That is neither here nor there, however. Please, come with me to my seat of power, such as it is. We have much to discuss."

Kai, groaning inwardly that this discussion will somehow lead her not to go home, nevertheless puts on a polite front. "It would be an honor," she solemnly intones.

Morn replies, "Honor is all-too-rarely a consequence of dealings in this place, but I appreciate the sentiment." The nobleman turns on his heel and leads the party into the town of Dagger Falls.

While the sturdy stone that forms the walls of both town and home is pleasing to the eyes of both Lenara and Khail, others in the party find little cheer in suspicious, well-armed townspeople and a hamlet designed more for defense against snow and foe than for beauty. For the majority, the quick trip through Dagger Falls’ open spaces is quite long enough, and the slightly more comfortable feel of Morn's residence is most welcome.

Apparently not one for pleasantries, Randall quickly comes to the point of his invitation. "In other times I would offer a grand feast for man and orc alike at the ending of hostility, but we are in dire straits and can afford no such luxury. As you may know, only recently was this dale liberated from Zhentish occupation, and the Keep's foul occupants continue to harry us on a daily basis. The orcs in the mountains are a substantial aid, but they have many enemies and tend to overestimate their own ability. In the west an evil power rises, spreading darkness from the Anauroch sand. Scouts in the Border Forest—those that returned, anyway—have reported seeing shadows of men that appeared decidedly unfriendly.

"This pair of threats taxes our ability to recover from the occupation. As such, we were wholly unprepared for what has befallen us recently. Seven days ago, a band of drow raided several farms and freeholds about 10 miles south of here. A number of people were killed, and the marauders caused much damage. Local militia tracked the drow back to the vicinity of an old set of ruins on the western edge of the Dagger Hills. Rumor has it that those crypts conceal an entrance to the Underdark.

"Three nights ago the drow raiders returned and caused even more damage.” Morn’s fist slams against an oak table, causing an inkwell to fall to its side. “These raids must stop, or the people of Daggerdale will lose all faith in the ability of this government to function. Every day living here is a constant struggle to beat back evil from multiple sides while scratching out a living from soil blackened by war. Adding an internal threat to the external will, I fear, sunder the fragile fabric of this society.”

Randall’s voice drops lower. "Worse, these drow are not simple raiders. They take neither goods nor captives away, instead engaging only in mindless slaughter. My people are demoralized.” He pauses, breathing deeply.

"I cannot compel your aid, nor offer much in recompense. I can only beseech you to halt these raids so that my people might have a chance to rebuild what they have lost."

*Their first adventure, which was a homebrewed, plane-hopping, characters-in-way-over-their-head quest. The end result of it was to bring Mishakal (from Dragonlance) into the Forgotten Realms as a new lesser Power of healing. I would have started posting from here, but it was all in 2E and I thought it might not be appropriate for this venue. Though the core Stepchildren were all there then, having started at 1rst level, they were a much more fractious bunch. Many of the most egregious alignment differences have since been smoothed out.

**Their second adventure, much shorter than the first. Again they were used by those more powerful than them to accomplish a goal they didn’t understand until after the fact.

***Their third, and most recent, adventure. The only goal in this one was survival. The players did a great job in meeting it, and in slaying the mighty Razorus. They really hated him. Kyree’s player keeps telling me I should post this one, but again, it’s 2E.

 

[htetickrt]

DM's note: I didn't really realize when I started posting this here that there was so much, well, talking, at the onset of the campaign. I've contemplated going back and deleting some, but, since the adventure itself has relatively few chances for discussion (and the related character development opportunities), I've decided to leave it in. Hopefully this doesn't mean the pace is too slow to make it interesting. Those craving for action need only persevere another two posts, whereupon the huge party starts being thinned by the bad guys.​

Randall Morn​

"It is nice to be in the Dales again," offers Dobi. "I for one would be happy to look into it, but I would ask of you one thing, if I may so presume, Lord Randall.

"It seems that you are still in rather tumultuous times. Might I ask whether you are still in communication with a Cormyrian embassy, through which I might send a message? I should at least check in."

Randall nods. "I will do my best, though roads are not what they used to be."

Quid quietly intones, "...and so sayeth the Lady, free the lands from strife, for only in peace doth profits flow ... Acquisitions 32:3.

"I would be happy to help you out, if the rest are willing anyway, though I do have some business matters I would like to discuss at your convenience."

Randall responds, "I'm afraid such matters will have to wait until the matter of the drow is resolved, for until then I do not know if there will be a Daggerdale with which to trade."

Danek looks hopefully over at Kai, who, lost in thought, is sadly stroking Snicker without noticing that the little animal is alertly and rather mischievously surveying the furnishings of Randall's home. The barbarian offers awkwardly, "Maybe we could come back in a few days and take care of the drow then. After we do some other stuff."

Snicker suddenly darts over to Randall and, perching on the back of his chair, starts pulling at the hair on the top of his head. When Kai leaps up, horrified, the pseudodragon flies back to her shoulder and innocently wraps his tail around her neck. "I'm so sorry," Kai apologizes to Randall, "he doesn't think I've been paying enough attention to him. It won't happen again."

Turning to Danek after the commotion settles down, she continues kindly, "Waiting will only allow more people to die. If everyone would like to take up this quest, I can put off my trip home. Although," she adds, turning again to Randall, "some time to equip ourselves before we depart can only increase our utility to you."

Randall brushes off Snicker's assault without comment. "Though perhaps not what you are used to, Dagger Falls does have a basic array of armor, weapons, and miscellany for your purchase. I'm afraid I can't offer transportation elsewhere, though you are free to approach this problem in any way you see fit."

Kyree turns to Randall and offers, as diplomatically as he can, "Thank you for directing us to a place where we can purchase some provisions. Unfortunately, we don't actually have money to use at this point. If you could, perhaps, offer us a loan of some sort...."

Cerridwin, seeking to avoid being turned into a snail, interrupts with a dazzling smile. "Wait, this reminds me of a song I know...." For the next five minutes the air is filled with a pleasant melody expressing the sheer joy of meandering around someplace known as a ‘mall.’

Randall's eyes lose focus slightly during the song, and his head sways along with the rhyming. Upon its completion, the ruler of Daggerdale smiles politely. "That was pretty, thank you," he says, though his eyes betray a hint of suspicion at the bard's motives. Cerridwin’s own smile goes perhaps a bit tighter, but she makes no other sign of her disappointment.

Turning back to Kyree, Randall says, "As I said earlier, I am afraid that Daggerdale is not wealthy." Sighing heavily, he adds, "However, I am prepared to offer a sum of 5,000 gold on completion of the task, of which half might be lent out beforehand. I can also grant 5,000 gold worth of healing from the local temple of Lathander."

Kyree smiles and bows his head as he says, "Thank you, that will be most helpful."

Trella slaps Kyree in the back and whispers, "Good work" after he secures some funds for their efforts. To Randall Morn, she says, "You have my staff and my aid, Mr. Morn. These drow will not know what hit them.” She pauses, stroking her cheek once. “I have a question about the raids. Did they choose farms of a particular size?" To clarify for her own sake, she adds, "I mean, were the targets and locations totally at random or could we reasonably guess where they'll strike next? If we could consult a map of the region, that would be most helpful."

Randall smiles broadly. "I am most glad to hear of this. There were only two raids thus far, and, as I said, we tracked the origin of the raids to the crypts ten miles south of here. The raids' targets appeared to be whatever was closest to the crypts. You are, of course, welcome to peruse our maps if you think they would help." At Randall’s comment, an attendant provides the party with detailed maps of the region.

Thinking aloud Trella says to no one in particular, "We need to get there from here. Maybe someone has a helpful spell; I could always become a bird or something and scout out the area while others are in transit."

Rhien comments, "A scout might be very useful, but I think we can easily walk there in a few hours tomorrow before dark. Or, we could procure horses, though most of those would have to wait above ground unless specially trained like Steve." Steve whinnies his agreement.

Snapping her fingers with a sudden thought, the druid offers, "If these drow are intent on mayhem, then I bet they'd love a chance to attack some representatives of Daggerdale's leaders, so, Mr. Morn, would you be able to send out word that you are sending royal survey teams with a small squad of troops to assess the damage? I am not asking you to do something huge or elaborate, just get the word out in case there are drow agents lurking somewhere who might relay the information. I'd like to see how or if they change their strategy. We'll need disguises if that idea is okay with everybody, something frilly for a few of us and soldier uniforms for others. I want frilly so they think I'm an easy target." She smiles evilly.

Randall responds, "To be honest, I'm not sure this would matter, given the violence and seemingly random carnage of the raids, but I would be happy to do this. I can also find appropriate disguises for you."

Andy clears his throat loudly. Approaching Morn with all the charisma he can manage, the monk extends a hand. "Captain Andy of the Thistlehome town guard. I have some experience in making preparations to repel invaders as my town was often attacked by, well, orcs and goblin kind. I would be eager to confer with my counterparts in the area regarding defensive measures we might take to minimize damage from future assaults. Maybe we can buy ourselves some time by taking simple precautions like strategic redeployment of local militia near sensitive or expensive assets."

Randall returns the handshake. "I am pleased that you are willing to help. When this is all over and rulership weighs less heavy on my head, we will have to sit down and discuss this Thistlehome someday, as I have not heard of it before now."

Danek scowls. "It's a dungheap," she mutters, nearly loud enough for Morn to hear her.

Dobi, master strategist, offers, "If I might offer a suggestion, perhaps when devising a plan of attack, we might consider splitting up, a two pronged attack so to speak. At least from my training, such large bands were never good for infiltration. And the split does not have to be based solely on experience, perhaps."

Trella replies, "I like that idea, maybe we could dispatch a small team to observe the crypts while the larger team looks pretty and sets the trap. The advance team would stall them—if they're spotted—and inform the larger group of the impending advance. Good thinking."

Rhien looks aggrieved. "No splitting up!" the monk uncharacteristically exclaims. "Splitting up is always bad!" He seems unwilling to discuss the matter further.

Quid asks, "Does anyone here speak any drow language, incidentally? I could prepare a spell to remedy that, but if someone knows, then that would be better.” There is collective head shaking in response to Quid's query.

She continues, "Also, I like the bait idea. If we are to confront them, it makes sense to meet as many as possible out in the open, rather than on their home turf.

"And, before heading for the crypts, it might be useful to visit the site of the last two attacks, to see if any clues were left behind in their tracks, perhaps talk to any survivors."

Randall shakes his head sadly. "You are welcome to visit the sites, but my men have done a thorough job searching for clues there already, and I have shared with you all that they have found. As I said, the attacks were savage, even for drow, and seemed to have little purpose other than to create fear and foment chaos. Only twelve drow footprints were found, but that was enough to slaughter many of my people."

Trella responds, “I think it’s probably best if we go anyway. No offense.”

Randal shrugs. “None taken. If there are not any more questions, I have business to which I must attend. My attendant will produce the money you have been promised, and it will be made known to the temple of Lathander that you should be allowed a certain measure of healing, should you need it. If you have additional need to speak with me, you can find me here much of the time. Thank you my friends, and may Tymora watch over you.”

The group leaves Randall’s presence somberly, anticipating another difficult road ahead. On the way out, the group is presented with 2,500 gold, split into five bags of coins. Quid sighs and mutters somewhat petulantly to no one in particular, "It never is easy, darn it. If not dragons or orcs, then Zhents and drow."

Trella ignores this. Easily slipping into her mantle as party leader, she instructs, “Kyree, you and me will go check out the attack sites real quick. The rest of you hit the stores and pick up whatever we’ll need. We’ll meet back here by nightfall and plan our attack.”

 

[htetickrt]

Dagger Hills
​

While discussing disguises, Trella's use of the word "frilly" piques Quid's attention. As soon as the druid leaves, the priest claps her hands together, "I can take charge of arranging the disguises. It has been ever so long since I have been back in civilization, I am curious of the latest fashions." She immediately moves off in search of apparel, joined by Dobi.

The remainder of the large group seeks out purveyors of more practical goods, equipping themselves with what they can find of their desired provisions. The local general store is well stocked, and yields nearly everything the party desires from it. The armory proves to have a slightly less impressive selection, causing a bored Khail to forget entirely about buying some. Noticing, Kai turns to Khail, looks him sarcastically up and down with a raised eyebrow, and asks with a smile, "You gonna get some armor for that?"

Khail clears his throat in response, glances at Lenara, and mutters, "Ahem, Yes, yes—some armor would be a good idea…." Lenara seems slightly disappointed, but is still willing to aid the paladin with her fading knowledge of metalworking as he looks for suitable barding for his celestial warhorse.

Meanwhile, across town, Quid eventually settles on several sets of peasant/farmer outfits, realizing that Dagger Falls is not a haven of haute couture. She is mollified, however, by the long conversation she and Dobi share about the latest Waterdhavian styles, and the doings of various much sought-after Silverymoon fashion designers.

As Dobi continues to fill Quid in on the latest gossip, "…apparently Sir Giacommo Artuzzi, that dirty old man, was having some sordid affair with some pretty boy half-elf. When Lady Artuzzi found out, she had both of them polymorphed into toads. I was lucky enough to purchase an Artuzzi gryphon-feather scarf, one of the last ones he made. I was to pick it up when I arrived at Silverymoon, hopefully it's still there…”, the sprightly halfling makes sure that the travel kit he packed in Waterdeep is still largely intact. As soon as Quid has finished her purchases, he leads her to a nearby tavern, finds an unused soap box which he hops upon, pulls a wooden flute out of his pack, and plays a brief but bright Oriental tune in a diatonic key.

To those who stop to listen, Dobi relates the tale of Sage Ezra's further adventures in Kara-Tur, and the time when Ezra gained audience with the Grand Muk-Ee-Muk in his Golden Pleasure Dome in a room of silk and gold and 144 Eunuchs and 225 royal concubines. “Of course Ezra had been brought in wearing shackles, because of a fling he had had with Royal Concubine #114, Miss Peace-Blossom in the Garden of Heavenly Tranquility. Ezra had wooed the lovely Pease-Blossom with a poem:

‘Eyes as lovely
As a babbling river
doggerel haiku’

When his most eminent and supreme highness heard this, one tear formed in his most august eye, who then made a small gesture to the Grand Vizier. The sharp nosed man proclaimed, ‘in his exalted majesties most humble generosity, he shall spare the barbarian's life; instead he will be taken to the royal bloodletter for the Happy Snippity-Snip’ a term causing all 144 Eunuchs to grimace in remembered pain.”

After the tale, Dobi plies the fascinated tavern goers for information on the drow, not really expecting to get any. He is not disappointed, learning only that the drow attack was all but unprecedented, and that its savagery and seeming irrationality scares the stuffing out of them.

While the rest of the party shops or regales, Kyree rides Trella the horse south with his usual dexterity, and enough wisdom not to make jokes about their positions. A few paces away gallops Earl, enjoying the freedom to run alongside his new friend. It takes the three only a short time to reach their destination, made obvious by the blackened remains of farmhouses a short way off of the trail.

Kyree dismounts and takes in the fell sight. His eyes gravitate immediately toward the shattered houses. “They didn’t take anything,” he whispers, looking away from the gruesome remains of a family dog.

Trella reverts to her usual form. “Drow,” she says simply, as if that explains everything.

“Look, some places are left untouched. And they didn’t even take the meat from the slaughtered cattle with them.”

“They weren’t here to pillage,” Trella intuits, “they were here to spread chaos and fear.”

Kyree shudders. “Doing a good job over here.”

Trella mocking look back fades into pity. “Let’s go back. There’s nothing more to be learned here.”

**********

“That’s it, then,” Trella finishes her tale, pushing back from the table with long, tanned legs.

Kai glances around the near-empty tavern. “I see why people would want to stay home.” A small sigh escapes her lips at its mention.

“Let’s get some sleep. I’d like to see the dawn tomorrow. It might be the last for a while,” Quid remarks, earning another sigh from Kai.

**********

Trella roughly awakens Andy before donning her new armor and making her way to a warm breakfast. The monk wipes the sleep from his eyes, deeply regretting her purchase as he watches her move away. Sensing his eyes on her, Trella smirks and decides to order up a great feast for the large party from a suddenly helpful innkeeper. She taunts Andy unmercifully as the group slowly files in for the meal, much to the delight of everyone who is not Andy.

Taking its leave of Dagger Falls, the group traverses the rough trail south with easy strides, reveling even in this short break from imminent danger. Ten miles pass all too soon, and the party’s collective spirit is dampened upon viewing the destruction that Trella and Kyree explored earlier.

Moving west through the decimated homestead, Trella leads the party two miles from the main trail, past a low, rounded hill dotted with jutting boulders and dense briar patches. Sere grasses crown its barren slopes. Beyond this first rampart, a long chain of rugged hills stretches away to the south and to the east—the Dagger Hills. The trail turns here and continues south, skirting the lower slopes.

Two old, small, stone buildings stand here in the shadow of the hill. The ruined shells of several more lie nearby, overgrown with tough brown grass. A niche has been cut in the hillside, just past the surface buildings. Within it, a stone door stands closed in a masonry alcove.

Dobi comments dryly, “Mausoleums around a crypt. How delightful.”

Khail strides purposefully to the first structure, examining the great double doors that bar the entrance to the ancient mausoleum. The doors or the lintel may once have borne an inscription or crest, but centuries of wind and rain have erased any such marking, just as they have slowly eroded the structure of the building itself, leaving cracked walls and crumbling mortar in their wake.

The doors swing open easily at the paladin’s touch, revealing a dusty open area, littered with human refuse from the campsites of more than one grave robber or bandit, and four closed doors, presumably leading to crypts. Training his eyes on each in turn, Khail is relieved to note the presence of no evil beyond any of the portals.

Vaguely bored, Kyree asks, “Should we go inside?”

Having no desire to examine the dead more closely, Kai shakes her head. “This place has been well-looted. There’s no sense disturbing their peace any more than it already has been.”

Quietly assenting—which causes Lenara to swoon at his manliness—Khail approaches the second mausoleum. A single, massive, stone door bearing a weathered but still visible family crest marks the entrance to this crumbling mausoleum.

Their interest piqued by the crest, both Dobi and Cerridwin approach the doors with wide eyes. The latter notes a single word, written in the Common tongue: “Chahir.” Dobi, looking closer, finds the phrase “Together for Eternity.”

Grey eyes narrowed in suspicion, Khail extends his senses through the doorway. “Evil!” he exclaims. “Five moderate sources…and one strong one. The taint is powerful here; it must be destroyed.” Lowering his shoulder, the paladin slams into the door, his great strength overcoming the substantial resistance of the plugged portal.

After passing through the swirling dust, two ornately carved stone coffins can be seen lying side by side against the wall across from the door. Dust lies thick on the floor, and the air inside is stale. Kyree’s sharp eyes pick up traces of dirt on the floor near each coffin, dark spots among the light-colored dust.

The signs unmistakable, Rhien and Quid both hiss, “Vampires.” An instant later, five vampire spawn materialize in front of the party, taunting the group. “Thought to rob the dead, did you? That’s what we thought we’d do too.”

Khail manifests his blade, the glow of which is itself a taunt to the undead, but is more concerned with the stronger aura he sensed. Snicker answers this last riddle with a telepathic shout to all party members, “There’s an invisible one on top of the right coffin, and he’s been casting spells!”

To be continued…

 

[htetickrt]

The Rage of Chahir​

Kyree rolls to the side and draws his bow, accepting the pain of a vampire spawn’s pummeling in order to deliver a volley of arrows from his bow at point-blank range. Andy leaps past him, looking to impress the ladies, and smacks one of the elf’s targets with his whirling nunchaku, much to his surprise. The sound of shattering ribs leads him to announce cockily, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” but no one pays much attention.

Rhien leaps over the undead assaulting him, avoiding its clumsy response, and lands lightly next to the coffin. His lack of sight causes his roundhouse to miss, but he nevertheless does manage to draw the vampire’s attention.

Below, Khail trades blows with a pair of spawn, sending one to mist. Lenara has eyes only for her obsession, crying out when she sees his life energy leeched by a glancing blow. Her subsequent cantrip causes the other undead to shudder, but it is Khail’s grin in response that makes her day.

For about five seconds. Then the lead vampire speaks and things descend rapidly into chaos. A barked word sends Rhien into a swoon, taking him out of the battle. With the most immediate threat gone, the sorcerer turns on the rest of the party, not caring if he catches his own spawn in the process. Multihued rays of light spill from his invisible hands in an expanding cone, blinding many due to their brilliance. Worse, they carry with them fire and acid and electricity and poison, burning and scorching as the large band scatters to the walls of the crypt.

Burned and blinded, Cerridwin feels the horribly scarred flesh of her lover beneath her hands and instinctively responds, sending healing magic to her with a gentle melody. Her timely efforts are all that prevent Lenara from expiring. Kai’s subsequent casting frees Rhien, though it does not reveal her opposite.

"Waukeen damn it," mutters Quid, turning her eyes to the heavens in frustration. "What a freakshow!" Drawing herself up, the priest suddenly appears much taller and more imposing than her slight 5'3" frame would lead one to expect. Menacingly brandishing the now humming gold coin inscribed with the face of a goddess, Quid, bathed by holy light and reflected glory, invokes in an uncharacteristically booming voice, "BY ALL THAT IS GOOD AND PROFITABLE, THOU WILST SUCCUMB TO THE ALMIGHTY WILL, THE INEFFABLE HANDMAIDEN OF THE INVISIBLE HAND, THE LILTING LADY WAUKEEN!" Positive energy floods the room at her invocation, and the remaining spawn cannot stand against it. They fall to dust at her feet.

Danek takes a step forward, but stops dead at Quid's demonstration, and then blinks. Turning back to the sole remaining vampire with a more righteous attitude, she shakes her fists in his general direction. "Yeah!" she shouts. "What she said!" Nothing appears to happen due to her efforts, but she feels better nonetheless.

Trella whispers, “Let’s show that upstart how it’s done.” She raises her arms, calling upon the power of Silvanus to turn the stone coffin into a thicket of spikes. This draws a curse from the vampire sorcerer, and the druid smiles wickedly in response.

Buttercup charges blindly forward, acting on telepathic directions from Snicker. Somehow the wild swings of his electric greataxe are fruitful, and he becomes the second to injure the vampire.

Far less foolhardy, Dobi backs into the corner, holding up the gold coin of Lady Luck that hangs from his neck in the hope that this will drive off the darkness. Though this does not immediately come to pass, the sound of a pair of arrows hitting home provides an alternative source of comfort.

The vampire begins to speak again, but Khail and Rhien are ready for him. His words are greeted with sword and fist, shattering his concentration. When Kai reveals his position by dispelling the magic that hid him, the battle is all but over. Searing light and holy fire set him ablaze, and a single arrow knocks him from his perch. As he struggles to his feet, Khail swings twice and neatly cuts him in two.

Though the undead turns rapidly to gas and attempts to float away, the location of his coffin is easily surmised. In a nonce, the sighted members of the party drag the covers off of all the coffins, stake the bodies inside, separate their heads, and sprinkle holy water over them for good measure. Khail is particular vigorous in this pursuit, liberally wetting the entire crypt floor with his personal stash of the stuff. “Never can be sure,” he is heard to mutter.

With the battle over, the clean up begins. Healing is dispensed freely for those who can partake of it, and the mass blindness passes in time. The discovery of a stone unicorn puts a damper on any excitement over a first victory, however. With no way to restore him for the time being, Trella sadly enlists Kyree’s help to carry her companion to the back of the tomb and bar the door.

“I don’t figure even tomb robbers will get excited by a statue,” she says quietly.

“Yeah, it’s not like there are any gems on it or anything,” Kyree agrees helpfully.

Trella glares at him.

The elf shuffles off. “Try to be supportive….”

Any chance Andy would offer his own clumsy words vanishes after this, so instead he heads out of the crypt to look for Jaalask, who seemed to vanish after being struck by a violet ray. Somehow he overcame that, apparently, and the monk sees the kobold in the distance, running away from the group as fast as his short legs will carry him. It seems that nearly dying in the beginning of a quest was enough to convince the humanoid that he’d be better off on his own. Sighing, Andy returns to convey this to the group. He goes to sulk in a corner when he receives only mild sympathy in response.

Not wanting to spend any more time in the cursed place, Trella exits the mausoleum, urging her companions to follow. After claiming a small pile of gold and magic, they do. Outside, Buttercup invokes his own faith and calls upon nearby flora to grow. Heeding the cleric’s summons, weeds and vines spring up around the crypt, enveloping it within minutes. When the job is done, Buttercup nods to himself and to Trella. “That should keep poor Earl safe,” he comments, earning him a pat on the back from the pleased druid. Andy suffers in silence.

Further down the path is a large pair of stone doors that blocks any more travel in that direction. Flanking the portal are a pair of columns carved to resemble warriors in full plate armor, their visored helmets open to reveal leering skulls. The doors are unadorned except for two stone handles, although gouge marks indicate that heavy tools dealt some damage to the doors in the past.

Pushing her hand against the door, Trella tests its strength. After a moment she comments blandly, “Locked.”

Khail flexes his arms before pounding on the door, but it holds against his attempt. Buttercup joins him for a second try, but still it stays intact. Finally, fed up, half the party hits the portal at a run, smashing it inward with a hail of dust and stone.

Once the debris settles enough for sunlight to filter in, a ten-foot wide hallway can be seen stretching into the distance, with no end in sight. More immediately, five dead drow, two female and three male, lie in the mouth of the tunnel. They have been stripped of arms and armor, but each still wears a black tabard emblazoned with a silver spiderweb insignia. The air here, not surprisingly, smells strongly of death.

Trella kneels to examine the bodies, spitting to the side as she does so. “Stupid drow were killed by small crossbow quarrels.”

Dobi inquires, “Don’t only drow usually have hand crossbows that use those?”

Trella smiles grimly, “Sir Dubious wins the kewpie doll. These were killed by their own kind. In fact,” Trella pauses as she discovers some tracks leading off into the passage, “there were about a dozen more of the scum present, and they dragged away two bodies that fell near the others.”

Kyree moves past the druid, noting for himself where the traps lead. “Stay here,” the elf instructs, while he lights his lantern, shields most of it, and creeps off into the darkness. He returns ten minutes later, looking disturbed. “The trail leads to a pretty sharp incline that descends into what appear to be natural caverns. There are three doors before reaching there. The first looks nondescript. The second was once obviously plastered shut, but there’s a wide crack in the plaster surrounding it, implying it was broken open at some point. I found chisel marks on the plaster, but the tracks didn’t lead into it. The third door is still plastered shut, and I didn’t touch it. I figured we should decide what we want to do first.”

Kai runs her hands through her hair. “Whatever we decide, I vote for having a plan before trying doors or moving down inclines. We were lucky our last encounter wasn’t even worse than it was.”

Trella’s eyes are clouded as she thinks on this.

 

[htetickrt]

Into the Crypts

Eventually the druid speaks, her words laced with bitterness over the quick loss of Earl. "Well," she remarks, "I don't see as the doors will gain us much if our goal is to find the drow who killed the other drow. I'm not against searching behind the doors, but Kai's right, we were fortunate our losses were not greater.” Her voice trails off. Andy idly flicks his nunchaku from side to side without a word.

After a time, Trella breaks the silence again. “Was the seam around the repaired plaster door tight?”

Kyree nods.

Danek frowns. "Do we want to find some drow, or do we want to kill as many drow as we can?" she asks. "I mean, if we can help it we don't want live drow behind us. I think we should check out the doors."

Quid agrees, “as long as it is cost effective.”

Dobi states, “I’d prefer a somewhat more subtle approach…but I guess that isn’t likely with such a large and loud crowd.”

Kai frowns in turn. "It's true that these bodies were systematically looted, not like the farms. The drow who did this may not be the drow we're looking for."

Danek scowls. “I’m opening a door.” The portal creaks open without incident, and her lantern light spills into a wide hallway, apparently untouched for many a year.

Quid’s acquisitive eyes gleam at the promise of long-buried treasure, and she advances to crack the plaster seal open. The ten tombs inside are clearly unmolested despite a previous entry into the burial room, and the Waukeenar swiftly discovers why. At her approach, a quartet of golden lions appears and assails her, tearing flesh and muscle with ease.

Kyree reacts with alacrity, pumping arrows into the tangle of feline flesh. Nearly tripping over herself in her zeal to retreat, Quid nevertheless manages to send one back to its Celestial abode, even as her scimitar, slick with blood, slips from her grasp and clatters noisily to the stone floor.

Khail pushes forward, his blade slicing down upon the lions with deadly force. The paladin grimaces with each blow, but his duty is clear, and a second falls before him. Danek, Trella, and Dobi advance past him, cutting muscle with blades and crushing bone with staff. The trio eliminates the last of the crypt’s defenders, returning the dark place to a silence broken only by the quiet chanting of Buttercup as he minister’s to his fellow priest’s wounds.

Khail falls to one knee, begging forgiveness from Torm for his actions. Quid retrieves her weapon and moves to examine the sarcophagi, drawing an angry stare from the paladin. “This place is consecrated to the powers of good; we should not have intruded.”

Quid shrugs and begins searching the tombs. “Perhaps, but these powers of good did not hesitate trying to kill someone who didn’t know that. Anyway, we need whatever’s here more than the people buried here do. Treasure needs to be spent, or you don’t get that pretty multiplier effect.”

Khail snorts but doesn’t press the issue, even after Quid’s pointed look upon uncovering a minor stash. As the loot is loaded into the party’s burlap sack, the priests converge upon the Waukeenar, eliminating enough of her wounds so that only blood-splattered armor remains to remind her of her near demise.

Once the party has gathered again in the hallway, Trella slams her staff against the ground. “That’s enough!” she thunders. “If we’re going to go exploring, we’re going to do it intelligently, and as a group. You all got it?”

Nods follow the druid’s proclamation, so as she approaches the third door she motions for the party to array itself behind her. Reaching her hand out to the plaster sealing it, Trella seeks to test its strength. She is quite unprepared for the jolt of raw negative energy that assails her on contact with the door, threatening to extinguish her very life. It takes every bit of her potent constitution to stave off death, and even then she cannot escape a series of fresh wounds that open across her torso.

Trella backs away, snarling. “Screw this! This isn’t a drow grave, there aren’t drow inside the sealed crypt, and we’re not grave robbers. We’re moving on. Anyone have a problem with that?”

Somewhat cowed by her anger, the party remains silent. Trella leads them to stairs that Kyree found, down into the deeper crypts.

A hallway of worked stone extends some twenty feet from the base of the stairs, then opens into what appears to be a natural cavern. Graves are hollowed out from the walls of this cave, and some jumbles of bone are visible within. Barely a glance is given to them as Trella moves the group past the cavern, and through a hewn stone passage into the next one. The second is nearly identical to the first, save for the presence of a marble statue in its center. The sculpted stone depicts a gaunt, alien-looking creature with bulbous eyes, an insect’s mandibles, and an elongated oval head.

Staring at it, Quid comments, “Why would anyone waste that much marble on Jergal, guardian of tombs and seneschal of the underworld? It’s not like he’s been a major player for a while now.”

Rhien responds thoughtfully, “Perhaps this has been here for a long time. Or perhaps that which the statue guards is dark indeed.”

Trella, still no-nonsense about matters, says, “Whatever it is, it’s not our concern. We move on.”

The druid leads the party toward a barely noticeable bulge in the tunnel ahead, marked by graves only along the east wall. Before she can take another step, Kyree stops her with a hissed warning. “There’s some type of creature—no, several of them. Gray with tentacles, and trying real hard not to be seen. Um…I think they can hear me.”

 

[htetickrt]

A Sticky Situation​

Kyree’s assessment proves right as eighteen distinct tentacles lash out from the darkness toward the mingled party. Moving quicker than they do, the elf backs up out of their likely range and fires a barrage of arrows at the closest. Lenara and Cerridwin join him, unleashing spells at the distant enemy. Wood and steel best magic, as the ropers prove resistant to the latter.
Kai shouts a warning before setting loose a fireball into their midst. Her spell proves brutally effective; though the middle roper is unaffected, the third ignites like tinder and the first is charred into death. Seeing this, Dobi backs away, content to let others handle this battle.

They must wait for the ropers’ response, however, as tentacles lash out from the darkness. The battle becomes a frantic melee as varied weaponry slaps at toughened flesh in an often-vain attempt to be free of the ropers’ strength-sapping embrace.

Khail slices through a tentacle holding Trella, but Quid and Andy are dragged along the rough cavern floor, futilely screaming their defiance. Danek pulls free of another by main force, shouts a battle cry, and charges heedless toward the fore.

Kyree and Kai continue their paired assault, and again bow defeats spell in a duel of efficacy. Cerridwin’s lilting voice rises about the din, bringing fresh courage to those whose hearts quail.

The pleasant tune only serves to anger the beasts further, and their flailing appendages send Danek to the ground, weaker than she ever was in her previous existence. The barbarian, no longer able to lift her armored limbs, does not like the feeling. She likes even less the feeling of invisible claws sinking into her tender torso, and even Cerridwin’s music is insufficient to push away the creeping fear that rises like bile in her throat as her body becomes paralyzed.

Though much of the group struggles near the ropers’ maws, Kyree’s aim remains steady and sure. Several arrows flash out, all hit their marks, and both ropers fall, releasing their intended meals. Unseen, Danek’s body is pulled down the hallway.

Thankfully for her, Rhien hears the scrape of Danek’s armor against stone at the last moment, and turns to view the barbarian apparently being dragged through a wall by an invisible creature. The monk shouts, “Danek’s in trouble,” and runs off after her, joined soon after by his companions. The wall proves insubstantial, and so no barrier to pass.

What is on the other side pleases no one. Danek lies in the center of a bone-strewn room like an offering, her web-entrapped, paralyzed, weakened body surrounded by eight huge, misshapen arachnid bodies. Poisonous goo drips from their fanged mouths, which are surrounded by hard chitinous plates that cover the entirety of their bodies.

Snicker, from his perch atop Kai’s shoulders, telepathically relays, “An ugly ghoul-like thing just dropped Danek off her and fled back through the illusionary wall." Kai, recognizing her proximal foes, answers, “Maybe we should deal with the bebiliths first.”

To be continued....