The TOMB Of HORRORS Updated 08/17/05

[DM-Rocco]

The story of these adventurers and the Tomb of Horrors starts on post 16 below, the rest is filler from the formation of the party to that point.

Someone on the general discussion forum started an interest in old 1st addition modules, namely the ones I read pertained to the A1-4 Slaver series and of course, the S1 Tomb of Horrors, which is ironic because I had my current party go through the A1-4 Slaver series and they are now in the S1 Tomb of Horrors. I did my best to update the modules to 3.5 and I think the players had fun for the most part.

I started another thread for a Dragonlance story, but I thought it might be fun to post the adventures of this party so far for those who have not been through the Tomb of Horror before to read. Of course, I have notes from the other sessions leading up to this point, most of which I made into one type of story or another, so I figure, why let them go to waste, I will post them here.

Each sessions notes are a bit different, some from the characters perspective, I think I have the enemies perspective once and even the magical intelligent Halberd's perspective, so if you get lost in the translation, just give a holler and I will help you through it. Also, providing these notes gives insight into the changes I made in the A1-4 series (not much there) but also the changes I made into the story line for the S1 Tomb of Horrors (I made a lot of changes and added some of my own stuff).

I will post these earlier sessions first and then I will come back here and post a link to where I start the threads for the Tomb of Horrors, hope you enjoy.

Cast of Characters
Delvin - A male human war mage (a in house class that can use armor, gets better BAB and spells)
Zimbar - A female Golden Elf Paladin (Golden Elf is a in house race combining most of the good stuff from all of the races, read below)
Thalis - A male Drow Elf Wizard
Khael - A human cleric of Pelor
Veenotheb - a human, DM controled wizard, there mostly for simple advice, comic relief and role-playing flare
Thorin - A male Axiomatic Githyanki psionic warrior
Gren KarlSon - A human male Tomb Radier (a in house class, pretty much like a rogue, but minus the sneak attack but gains 10 in skill ranks every level instead of 8, limited spells and mad knowledge bonuses)

These first sessions cover the meeting of the party (they started out at 5th level) and run through the A2-4 Slaver series. I had run A1 through with some of these guys in a previous game so I couldn't start with A1 here. This bit covers right up to te front door of the Hill Top fort.

* * * * *​

"Use boysen on the flies," came a distant echo in Thorin’s mind. His head throbbed as if a whole mountain of dwarves was using his head as an anvil. Drifting between the recluse of sleep and the torture of reality he lost himself in his thoughts and tried to swim back to the previous, but ended up drowning towards the later.

"Don’t poison us with your lies," came the voice again and this time it made much more sense. "Alarm, alarm, raise yourselves noble strangers, evil has a name and now a face. Look upon the fair folk, the seekers of the dead, the slayers of mankind, behold the golden elves. "

Thorin tried to shake the grogginess of sleep from his bones as he inventoried his surrounding. Six others stood around him, unclothed and unknown to the best of his recognition. One old man, the obvious speaker and accuser, had black hair with shocks of white that lined his sides like the wings from a bird. His hair was wild and unkempt as if his hair were blowing in some unknown breeze. Overall he appears to be a man, a human, of about 70 plus years in age, but with no signs of decrepity. To his left was another human, short in disposition and wiry, yet strong in stance that betrayed his keen mind. To his right was yet another human, a man of noble stature and a charismatic personality. Fairly standard so far, three humans no waiting.

Then he noticed the other two, a man, who appears in most regards to be human, but with red, the color of searing flame, and rusty skin, he was more akin to a bloodline of demons or elementals, and the other, a creature of the underdark, a bringer of death and malice, a drow. What foul company have I been keeping of late, thought Thorin. Last but not least was the cause of all of this commotion, a figure held in thrall in some magical barrier. She was a female, and what a female she was. Skin, soft as a rose petal and sweet to the senses. Her skin looked as if it was spun from gold and her silver hair shimmered in the waning moon light as her eyes shifted in color from copper, to bronze, to platinum, piercing the souls of everyone around her. He couldn’t tell her race, at first glance she appeared as an elf, with her long pointed ears, longer than most elves in fact, but she seems as if their was more to her than that.

"Her and her kin betrayed the races of mankind, and doomed the world to near extinction. Foul are their tongues and fouler still are their thoughts and the foulest are their deeds. Baby slayers, one and all. No mercy should be shown to the likes of her, she is evil and evil deserves but one fate, the business end of a noose," came the ratings from the uppity old man.

"Burn her I say, burn her good. Lynching is to good a fate for so cruel a person," came a reply from the red haired man.

"How do we know she is evil, good has a home in all who seek it, and even in those that don’t. I will not act to slay her until you can prove to me by her actions or deeds that she is as you claim, a devil in fine clothes, or lack there of," came the counter from the noble man.

"The deeds of the family are her deeds as well. Are you not learned in the fairy tales of the world? Here is a fairy tale come to life before your eyes and you seek proof. The proof is that she exist and that is enough for me," came the argument from the old one.

"Excuse me, I have-," came a comment from the shadows.

"Behold her companion, a foul drow. There is your proof, she is in league with the minions of the underdark. Stay your hand foul creature, your fate shall be tied to this ones," and with but a single gesture the dark elf was held in the same type of magical cage as the golden elf.

"Sure ye being an evil thing if ever I did see one. Burn them to ash, burn," cried the red haired man.

Thorin took a step to the shadows, with an angry mage casting spells of entrapment on anything that wasn’t human, he decided it was best not to reveal his Githyanki bloodline. While his most well know cousins are a race of evil astral travelers he is from another plane, the home plane, Mechanus. Years of enslavement from the Illithid corrupted the hearts of his cousins and drove them to evil acts just to survive, but the true nature of the Githyanki live on the home plane of Mechanus and there they are known as the Axiomatic Githyanki, Lawful in nature and neutral in thought. But that seems to matter little to this crazed man. Thorin concentrated for a moment and then projected his thought outward towards the old one, reaching for the first traces of the wizards mind. Anger, hatred and fear filled this ones heart and because of his overwhelming charismatic nature, others who may not have felt the same way, now want a lynching.

A burst of light filled the night sky and a wave of divine power rolled across the grove.

"See your enemy now, under the field of the divine she should turn away if she was of an evil heart but instead see how her appearance only seems to accept the purity of the light," argued the noble man.

"Trickery, she is as evil as evil can be and has bewitched your eyes," countered the old one.

"You have her gagged and bound, release her and let her speak."

"She can whisper but a word and slay us all, even the gaze of the golden elf can shoot balls of flame, never, I won’t do it."

"Fire, burn!"

"It would seem logical to interrogate her and at least learn if others of her kin are around. I know of the Golden elves and I know that the ability to shoot balls of flame from their eyes and lightning from their ass is a tale of myth to frighten children into behaving." This came from the short man with the keen mind.

"Very well, but be it on your head if she turns us into toads," and with the snap of his fingers the spell was released and the old one jumped back, preparing to slay the elf if need be. "Speak now servant of evil and lie not to me for I can read the hearts of men, and women."

"Yes, speak or burn!"

"Speak."

"Be quick about it."

The golden elf dusted herself off and calmly rose to face her accusers.

"I am Zimbar, of the house of Zann. I am a defender of the weak, a protector of good, I am a golden elf." The old man started to speak but the look of disgust from those around the grove told him to keep his comments to himself.

"There are things you must know, but for now I have no choice but to spell out the history of me and my kin lest the spell never be broken.

"The fair folk, born not of one but of many. Bred, not created, from the blood of all races gaining the best of all their abilities. The high elves created them to fight back the Drow Elves and imprison them in the Under Dark. With the sensitivity of the Elves, the hardiness of the Dwarves, the slyness of the Halflings, the Cunning of the Gnomes, the rage of the Minotaurs, the determination of the humans, the brute force of the orc and the blood line of many other race to numerous to get into here, they are a creation of perfection. The High Elves instilled in them other abilities to aid against the night of the Dark Drow, and needless to say that such a race of Elves overwhelmed the Drow and banished them from the light. They were heroes, but history is written by the victor and few knew why others hate us today. The Golden Elves were bred for the purpose of defeating the Drow, it was in their blood, they were bound by it, but with the promise that afterwards they would be free to do as they will.

"Then came the birth of Arrazznecronakk.

"During the first sundering, when Arrazznecronakk, a wizard of immense power came into ascension of godhood and with his new powers plotted the fall of man and his fellow Deities, it was the men of the Earth that came to the Golden Elves and begged for help, remembering the power of the golden elves during the drow wars. Though they owed no allegiance, they agreed to save the world again and with their help, the Gods over threw Arrazznecronakk from the heavens and his followers from the Earth, but they could not kill Arrazznecronakk so they sent him to Earth to repent his ways and stripped him of his powers. In his humility he began to worship Krusk, the All God, and through him he again gained in the powers of the church and used his past knowledge and failure to make himself a lich of tremendous power. Again he threatened to become a God and again the races of the Earth turned to the Golden Elves to fight a fight for them during the time of the second Sundering. Again the Golden Elves fought for all of our futures and again they won a great victory, destroying the Arch-Lich Arrazznecronakk.

"Or did they?

"Centuries passed and a cult began to grow and it was lead by another wizard, two in fact, of incredible power who also became liches in their masters likeness. And so it was that Vecna and Acererak made Arrazznecronakk a God by building a cult of followers into a congregation of faithful. Arrazznecronakk let Vecna and Acererak hold sway and control of the Earth while he, one by one, banished the Gods from the heavens. Many think they are dead, but we know better now. Arrazznecronakk would not kill them, not when he can make them suffer for eons. For the fourth time the races of the Earth turned to the Golden Elves and this time they said no.

"In their centuries on the Earth they knew that if they did everything for the peoples of the Earth they would become soft and weak, and they had. It was said that the Golden Elves turned their backs on the races of the Earth when the truth was far worse. Despite their stance on neutrality, Vecna and Acererak hunted them to the brink of extinction. Some say they fueled the war of the Gods with the blood in their veins. It was the blood of the many that did save the day, but not from the Golden Elves. The races of the world banded together and launched an assault on Vecna, Acererak and his followers, while a fellowship of all races went through a vortex to battle Arrazznecronakk. It is rumored that Calamar the Dark was among those that went and that only he returned. Arrazznecronakk is rumored banished and Vecna, thanks to the betrayal of his general Kas, was ripped asunder and his body torn to pieces, only his left eye and right hand remain, but none can say were they are today and none have ever heard of Acererak again, his disappearance is a mystery to this day. Some say he is dead, some say he is in hiding yet others believe that he is on a sojourn, questing for the secrets of the universe so he himself may take his masters place in the heavens. But out of the ashes of the fourth Sundering their were two things that remained, the evil in the hearts of the world and the deep hatred of the Golden Elves for betraying the Races of the Earth. That is why they we are hated, that is why we are hunted, that is why we are despised. With our Golden skin, platinum eyes and shimmering Silver hair we are the Fair Folk and the sight of us turns the uneducated mind to rage.

She walked with purpose to the old one.

"Now Veenotheb, do you know me, do you know your friend. It is I Zimbar the righteous, Zimbar the lawful, Zimbar the Holy. Paladin of the order of Zackary, chosen champion of the planes. Look upon me and break the spell that holds sway of your heart."

In the blink of an eye the old one came to his senses and foolish he felt. As if an after thought, he snapped his fingers and released the holding spell from the drow.

"Hold no anger in your heart Thalis, Veenotheb was seduced by trickery, to be revealed forthwith, but first, mark and member the past, turn your hate from your eyes and know the truth."

As if in a trance, the dark elf also came to his senses.

"Khael," replied Zimbar as she addressed the noble man, "It was your words that saved my life and weakened the spell, thank you for your beliefs." She truned next to the small man with the keen look in his eye. "Gren KarlSon, you have ever been a friend, remember now your past so we can enjoy the future. Devin, your hate was fueled on false hoods and your natural disposition of a quick temper and obsession with fire. Release yourself as well and finally Thorin, you have not been forgotten by me, take your fear and stow it where lies your hope and love and you shall not falter in your judgments anymore.

"Come now Malik, your game is at an end, come now and face me," cried the golden elf.

The darkness grew and formed the shape of blackest black, forming the outline of yet another drow, but this one had a radius of awe and might. So overwhelming was his aura that everyone felt compelled to take a knee and shield their eyes from his presence.

"Bravo, bravo," came the sarcastic reply. "You have yet again proven use as a source of great entertainment for me golden one. I thought that your friends would not be able to over come your racial past, and I was right, for the most part. I would have won this game had it not been for the power of the cleric. Next time I shall have to do more than make you naked and take away your memories. I am truly sorry I can not stay, but we have company. Perhaps next time I shall play with you a little longer." His voice trailed off and then was gone.

"Something comes this way. " Zimbar looked into the dark night of the forest, scanning for signs of trouble. "Someone approaches, a girl, and others as well, hobgoblins by the smell of them. To me my friends, may Zackary's light shine true and guide your strikes."

The bushes broke and as predicted by Zimdar, a female human child crashed from the underbrush and collapsed to the ground. A mad scramble was made for the piles of equipment that lay on the ground. Some reached for swords, some for spell components, some for both. Soon, a hoard of hobgoblin broke through the glade and assaulted the party. A bloody battle ensued and thanks in large part to a well placed wall of fire and a timely fireball, the battle was soon over.

After some much needed healing the party learns the following from the escaped slave and remembers events that led up to this encounter.

The coastal lands of the Land Locked Sea have long been raided by the ruthless Slave Lords, traders in human misery. After years of argument, the sovereigns of the area finally decided to take action against them. A band of fearless adventurers was gathered and sent to investigate the slavers' base in the decayed city of High-Port. The slavers were discovered to be operating out of a ruined temple dedicated to the orcish god Gruumsh. After defeating the orcs, the implacable adventurers discovered a secret trap door leading to the sewers beneath the temple. There they found the dreaded Slave Pits, guarded not only by orcs and ogres but also by creatures more foul, including the horrible insect-men. After all these were beaten, the adventurers encountered and defeated one of the Slave Lords managing the operation in Highport. As a result of their victory, the party obtained records of slaver activities and a map of their caravan route.

The map has led the party inland from Highport to an old fort lost in the midst of the Drachensgrab Hills. Supposedly this stockade is used as a way station by humanoid caravan merchants who dare risk travel across these perilous lands. The party's map, however, indicates that the fort is really a front for the slavers, and that it is being used as a processing and fattening house for newly acquired slaves. The information agrees with that received from a slave who escaped from the stockade. The slaves are brought in with the mock caravans, but they are never seen to leave. To help fulfill their mission the player characters decide to investigate the old fort.

After a harrowing journey in which the party faced hunger, bandits, and the wild tribesmen of the Drachensgrab Hills, the adventurers have arrived at their destination and are scouting this fort from concealed positions on a nearby ridge. The fort is situated atop a high, steep hill that surveys the countryside. A warding ditch 20' wide and 10' deep surrounds the fort. The only access road winds down from the north, through a narrow valley, up to the drawbridge that spans the ditch.

The hill fort is a combination of recent construction and the remains of an older stone fortress. The outer wall of the hill fort is an earthen rampart topped by a wooden stackade. However, the curtain wall containing the drawbridge is made of stone. The wall is 35' high and is topped by a stone parapet which is constantly manned. The curtain wall is connected to the rest of the fort by the rampart and stockade.

The ground slopes upward from the curtain wall, and some distance back, across an open courtyard, is the gatehouse. This is of massive construction, four stories high, with a stone parapet atop it, so that all sides can be defended. The rampart and stockade connect to the gatehouse and surround the fort keep.

The keep abuts the rampart on three sides, with a parade grout to the north between the main building and the gatehouse. The fort was originally a single story stone building, but the slaves have added a wooden guardpost as a partial second story. The entrance to the main building is recessed back and an enclosed garden leads from the building's entrance to the parade ground.

The rampart and stockade surround the fort on the west, south and east sides and join the curtain wall to the north. The out face of the walls and stockade are fitted with downward sloping spikes to prevent attackers from scaling the walls. The stockade has a walkway on all sides, the walkway being 15' above the main building's first floor. Guards patrol the walkway, and the top of the gatehouse and curtain wall, but it is impossible to estimate from a distance.

The curtain wall, the gatehouse, and the main building are all built of stone. The ceilings and walls of rooms and corridors are made of stone. The ceilings in the east and west wings, however, are made of plaster over wood hung on wooden rafters.

The floors are wooden. Wooden beams are used to reinforce weak sections of the stone buildings. The stockade is wooden, as is the wall walk and the pavilion overhang in the open garden section of the U-shaped main building. The inner courtyards are nothing but rock-strewn mud flats. The only vegetation (besides mold and mildew) are the trees in the garden surrounded by the main building.

The hill fort shows signs that it has been sacked in the past. Some of the stones are blackened as though by fire. Some areas of stonework shows signs of ancient destruction from catapult and trebuchet attacks. These holes have been crudely repaired. The stockade is of more recent construction than the rest of the hill fort. Close examination shows that the stockade has been built directly behind the remains of a stone foundation where an outer perimeter wall once stood.

The humanoids in the hill fort do not care whether it is clean or not. As a result, both the fort and the dungeon are filthy. The floors are covered with dust, and trash is scattered about the rooms and corridors. The walls are covered with grime, mildew, and cobwebs. Broken or rotted furniture is thrown into corners rather than repaired. The entire place is infested with rats, spiders, and other foul vermin.

The escaped slave has told the party that she left the fort by running a makeshift rope from the curtain wall's second story, near the main gate, to the ditch and climbing down. Since no one saw her leave, she was pursed in the woods by a patrol, she is sure the rope is still there. No matter what else you try to do to the slave girl, she can tell you no more.

 

[DM-Rocco]

session 2 Module A2 Secret of the Slaver Stockade

“The road to the north is clear of anyone or anything,” said Zimbar, as she paced about the encampment, her long flowing silver shimmering hair reflecting the moon’s light about the trees. “The slave girl lies, or else the whole truth is not known to her. If the slave girl is telling the truth about the remainder of the slaves being sold and moved at dawns first light, then there is no sign of buyers on the northern road or off of any of the game trails.”

“Perhaps there is an entrance that we have missed, another way into the keep,” stated kheal matter-of-factly, not every entrance can be gained through foot wear or horse hoof.

“Something is not right, but I can’t put my finger on it,” declared Zimbar. “Do you hear that?”

Kheal and the others strained to hear anything over the chirping of birds and the symphony of the night. They heard nothing but soon they would, soon one would return. Zimbar’s keen ears picked up the sound long before the others.

“Relax, Gren approaches,” stated Zimbar, a mask of emotion.

Out the shadow Gren emerged, slightly dusty and worn from his scouting mission.

“Speak Gren, we have much to do and have lost so much time,” commented Delvin.

Gren wasted no time in his scouting report.

“The fort is situated atop a high, steep hill that surveys the countryside. A warding ditch 20' wide and 10' deep surrounds the fort. The only access road winds down from the north, through a narrow valley, up to the drawbridge that spans the ditch. The hill fort is a combination of recent construction and the remains of an older stone fortress. The outer wall of the hill fort is an earthen rampart topped by a wooden stackade. However, the curtain wall containing the drawbridge is made of stone. The wall is 35' high and is topped by a stone parapet which is constantly manned. The curtain wall is connected to the rest of the fort by the rampart and stockade.

“The ground slopes upward from the curtain wall, and some distance back, across an open courtyard, is the gatehouse. This is of massive construction, four stories high, with a stone parapet atop it, so that all sides can be defended. The rampart and stockade connect to the gatehouse and surround the fort keep. The keep abuts the rampart on three sides, with a parade grout to the north between the main building and the gatehouse. The fort was originally a single story stone building, but the slaves have added a wooden guard post as a partial second story. The entrance to the main building is recessed back and an enclosed garden leads from the building's entrance to the parade ground.

“The rampart and stockade surround the fort on the west, south and east sides and join the curtain wall to the north. The out face of the walls and stockade are fitted with downward sloping rows of spikes, one foot apart in three offsetting patterns, to prevent attackers from scaling the walls. The stockade has a walkway on all sides, the walkway being 15' above the main building's first floor. Guards patrol the walkway, and the top of the gatehouse and curtain wall, but it is impossible to estimate from a distance.

“The curtain wall, the gatehouse, and the main building are all built of stone. The ceilings and walls of rooms and corridors are made of stone. The ceilings in the east and west wings, however, are made of plaster over wood hung on wooden rafters. The floors are wooden. Wooden beams are used to reinforce weak sections of the stone buildings. The stockade is wooden, as is the wall walk and the pavilion overhang in the open garden section of the U-shaped main building. The inner courtyards are nothing but rock-strewn mud flats. The only vegetation (besides mold and mildew) are the trees in the garden surrounded by the main building.

“The hill fort shows signs that it has been sacked in the past. Some of the stones are blackened as though by fire. Some areas of stonework shows signs of ancient destruction from catapult and trebuchet attacks. These holes have been crudely repaired. The stockade is of more recent construction than the rest of the hill fort. Close examination shows that the stockade has been built directly behind the remains of a stone foundation where an outer perimeter wall once stood.

“The humanoids in the hill fort do not care whether it is clean or not. As a result, both the fort and the dungeon are filthy. The floors are covered with dust, and trash is scattered about the rooms and corridors. The walls are covered with grime, mildew, and cobwebs. Broken or rotted furniture is thrown into corners rather than repaired. The entire place is infested with rats, spiders, and other foul vermin.

“I have found and tested the rope that the slave girl had used, it is sound and can even handle the heaviest of us,” concluded Gren in his report of the Hill fort.

“Then it is settled, we must blindly ascend to the tower to free the slaves,” chimed in Thorin.

From the Journal of Zimbar.

After breaking camp we struck out for the rope that the slave girl had left behind. The rope was almost as easy to find as the climb was to make. When we entered the second story of the guard tower it was an entrance to a room of choking dust. The window had, apparently in the not to distant past judging by the smell, been used as a dump for slops and nightsoil out into the warding ditch. Cobwebs covered the ceiling and walls. There was a single line of footprints in the dust, made by a naked human foot. They led from the east and end at this window. When I entered this room I had an uneasy feeling come over me. I fear nothing of this world, but still, something put the willies in me.

Ghen opened the opposing door and we were on our way.

The next room was much like the other, a thick pasting of dust covered the floor and human foot prints lead from the door we stood at to the stair to our right. White pieces of a marble like substance line the floor and brown stains too. I looked closer and to my horror, the brown stains were of dried blood and the white flakes of marble, bone chips.

Ghen, while walking down the stairs, tripped an alarm and a marble ball fell from the ceiling and shattered into a blinding explosion of light and released thousands of smaller marbles that covered the floor. Unfortunately Thorin, while momentarily blinded, slipped on the small balls and fell down the stairs, narrowly missing Ghen in the process.

The others went down the stairs but I felt compelled to wander and explore. There was an uneasiness about this guard tower and something that bothered me in the pit of my stomach. I opened the door on the far wall which lead into a room that must have once been used for warding off invaders who had broken through the gate and were pouring through the passage below, for there are murder holes in the floor, for pouring oil on invaders. I had the strangest feeling that something, or someone, was watching me.

I was alone, yet I felt that I must go on, but why? What did I have to prove? Yet, go on I did and I moved to the next door. The chirping of crickets stopped and the shadows seemed to move. A flickering light played on the wall at the end of the passage yet in spite of the many arrow slits, the room remained dark. I used some of my magic to shed light upon the room but the light came to life and died with in the span of a heart beat. I am no coward, but I know when I should walk away, and this was the time.

To bad I waited so long to follow my comrades.

A ghostly apparition materialized before me, his face a shock of terror. He reached for my throat with ghostly hands and I could feel him siphon my strength from my body. Chills swept through my arms and legs and soon the chills became an overwhelming dread of frigid torment. As soon as it started it stopped and I knew why. Why this spirit was stuck in this level of the tower. Years ago, before the slavers had taken control of the keep, this man was assigned to guard the tower. In his death throws his spirit was bound to this hall for all time, less someone would come along and help him in his dieing quest to free the filth from the keep. As the light of Zackera watches over her faithful, I shall help this wretched man complete his quest.

I rejoined the others.

My companions had been attempting to gain the advantage of higher ground by finding a way to scale the wall. Razor sharp spikes lined the inner walls too so climbing the wall in the traditional way was out of the question. The idea of teleporting to the top of the battlement had merit, but the advantage of surprise would be lost with one look at Thorin. It was soon agreed that Ghen would use his rope to scale the wall, with a telekinetic assist from Thorin.

Ghen tried to climb the rope, but he fell twice and a third attempt was not given since we finally were discovered, the wall guards had made our position. We dispatched them quickly but was it quick enough. The earth began to rumble and from the ground sprung an Anhkeg. In spite of his massive size and a luck strike to Thorin, we dispatched this beast in mere moments with a mighty swing from my faithful blade.

There was no choice now, we had to go through the mud filled parade grounds. Thanks to Delvin’s casting of the floating disk of magical energy we crossed the mud in good time and avoided most of the arrow fire from above. Just in time too, as the alarm had been tripped and the whole fort was searching for our presence. We quickly made our way across the inner grounds to the make shift garden where Thorin and Delvin washed the mud from there bodies.

The attack came quickly and with precision. I have not ever seen Hobgoblins this organized and disciplined. Some other force must be at work here, but what?

After dispatching the hobgoblins on the wall and the Carnivorous apes in the trees we made our way into the main body of the keep. We sent Gren ahead to scout and good thing too, he found a most puzzling pit, whenever the far door would open, the floor would flip over and send those that had been standing there into the spiked pit below. The room beyond was of little interest to us, just a room used for paying the troops, but the doors to the north and south, they held interest. The southern door gave way to a long hall way so we decided to wait before going down that hall. The northern door was very strong and stubborn, proof came in the way of Thorin as he failed in his attempt to smash the door down. He was about to try again but the door opened on its own and from the shadows stepped an Ogre and a hoard of hobgoblins. Perhaps we should have stayed to stealth, perhaps, but whatever, it is to late to dwell on the past and the spirit within is calling to me, we have a fight to fight.

 

[DM-Rocco]

session 3 Module A2 Secret of the Slaver Stockade

Thorin stalked the shadows of the Hillfort, moving in silence down the dusty hallways, pausing at each door to use his natural psionic powers to see and listen through the walls and doors. At the end of the corridor he held his breath as he slowly pressed the lever on the door and with a loud crash Thorin burst into the room, his blade a fury of motion.

“Die slaver scum,” cried Thorin, his rage beyond control. The room contained a ceramic pot, used for the barracks latrine, and two rather pathetic looking hobgoblins, cowering in the corner, swords on the ground and arms out in a sign of mercy.

“Don’t hurts us, we no kill pretty elf, we only following orders we were,” pleaded one of the hobgoblins.

“You kill Grogg, we feared to disobey Grogg or our head would roll, you kill master, now you our master,” whimpered the other.

Thorin held his blade and checked his fury, years of training in the monasteries and war schools of the Githyanki had taught him to show mercy when given the chance and no quarter in all other situations. He could kill these two before they had a chance to draw another breath, but to do so would violate everything that he believed.

“By the light of Pelor, have at you,” came the war cry from behind.

“Stay your hand my jihad happy friend, these two can cause us no more harm and offer their services to us freely. I can no more slay these two than you could live the rest of your life in darkness.”

“Perhaps your right, but I will know vengeance for the loss of Zimbar,” cried Khael, tears accomplishing the one thing in all the world the light could not, blinding his sight. He dropped his mace to the ground, light burning from his eyes, the divine might of his God, Pelor of the Sun, piercing the darkness, he reached for the nearest Hobgoblin and pinned him to the wall. The pathetic creature squirming under the intense light of Pelor.

“Behold the light of Pelor you miserable, vomitous, putrid pool of bile. Your salvation lays not in the path which you have chosen but that which you have yet to take. Behold the light and the way of Pelor and know true power, the power of the Sun, the power to heal, the power create, the power to destroy. Stand now before the light of the one God and be judged for all time, for your actions to the living echo with you to eternity, behold!” The Hobgoblin tried to cringe away in fear, moving and turning to break the iron grip that held him. His struggles proved fruitless however and he had no choice but to look into the light, no choice but to feel the strength and might of the servant of Pelor. He stared into the light, meeting the gaze of Khael and when he turned away, his eyes were nothing more than milky white glazed over orbs, he was now stone blind.

“I see the errors of my ways I do, please hurt him no further, please I beg of you, show us mercy, Jurit will tell you all you need to know I will, Jurit will serve you evermore,” cried the voice of the other Hobgoblin.

Khael turned his fiery gaze towards the other Hobgoblin and the flames died down.

“Speak now, and quickly, for I have little patience left. Tell me the lay of the keep, who runs it and where the slaves are and I shall spare your lives. Leave nothing to chance, tell all and speak the truth or I shall pen your name in the dead book.”

“Yes of course, I shall speak, and the truth too, for I will see no harm come to my new master. My name is Jurit and this is Gaul, we came to the Hillfort seven years ago in promise of wealth beyond our means. When we arrived, Icar trained us in battle tactics and discipline. Beware of Icar master, he is tall, even for a human, he must stand at least two heads taller than any of you and he is blind, blind as my friend now is, but his lack of vision from birth has given him true sight. He can see better than the sighted he can. He guards this level of the Hillfort and is in charge of it’s defense. I know nothing of the halls beyond and nothing of the dungeon below. I know that is where the broken slaves are kept, ready to be shipped to market and below is where you can find Markessa, she is a warrior like no other and can use magic too. Dark magic she wields. She can turn people from one race into an other, twisting and pulling at the fabric or creation to create new breeds of slaves. That is all I know master Khael, please don’t hurt use anymore, we will follow you until death if commanded, we will follow the light evermore.”

Khael relaxed his grip on Gaul and reached for the medallion around his neck. He pulled the medallion of Pelor off but it remained, or rather it duplicated itself and then again, so that two copies of the medallion of Pelor were held in either hand.

“Take these medallions of your new God and wear them always, before you go to bed at night, meditate on them and pray to him for salvation. In his flame shines salvation,” preached Khael. He watched as both of the Hobgoblins placed the medallions around their necks and to his surprise they did not burn in fiery deaths as an infidel would have but rather they glowed slightly with a reverent light of acceptance.

“By Pelor’s flame,” gasped Khael, amazed that such creatures of evil had been accepted into Pelor’s fold.

“Take this silver, the combined treasure of your comrades, and have your riches. Spread the word to those we have passed that there are new lords of the keep and await our return,” casually replied Gren.

The two hobgoblin’s quickly gathered up the money on the floor and praised the hardy adventures names. The party of friends now turned their task to the gruesome work at hand, binding the body of their fallen comrade. Gren then used his magical bag to encompass the fallen comrade and store his/her body for a future burial.

In the end it was Thalus that knew the rights about the proper burial rituals of the golden elves. The body needed to be burned at its ancestral home and the ashes spread across Menzoberranzan, one of the largest drow cities of the underdark. Thalus, who once would have reveled in the body of a golden elf, was now sickened at the treatment of such remains by his fellow drow. The body would have been taken to the altar’s of Loth where horrible curses and poxes would be cast on the mortal remains and its mortal shell filled with energy from the negative material plane, binding the golden elf to an undeath life for all time. Such undead creatures are then used to track down and slay others of their kin or used against the house enemies. Even crueler are the dark deeds used by the magi of the under world for they use the physical remains, when they can get their hands on them from the females clerics, to fuel dark and sinister powerful magic.

“May Pelor’s light guide your way my friend,“ was the only words spoken and the only ones needed as Zimbar’s body was slowly placed in Gren’s bag of holding.

* * *​

On the remaining brave companions went, trudging through the Hillfort. Down one hallway they encountered a set of three mummies, quickly dispatched by a fireball from Thalus and then came the attack from behind from yet more Hobgoblins. Jurit intervened, and persuaded the small group that we were their new master as well. This Jurit seems to have a natural leadership quality about him and in the absence of his cruel over lords, he could rise to the challenge of leading his fellow hobgoblins as a commander while his quite counter part, Gaul, seems more spiritual in nature.

Following the twisting and winding hallways we came to a pit trap, an illusion revealed the pit was actually closer than it appeared and the clever designers placed a thin, yet strong, nearly invisible wire across the far side which was unseen by Gren’s human eyes. He found out the hard way as he jumped across the gap and then was force back into the pit of spikes. Luckily he had tied a rope to himself before jumping across, that and the strength of the Githyanki were enough to pull him out of harms way.

Water wells and store rooms and then a breaking room for the slavers. This room contained a most unusual creature, a cloaker. The beast best looked like a cloak, hence the name, and he used his spineless body to wrap itself around Gren in hope of smothering him to death. The beast then let out a low subsonic moaning that caused many in the party to feel weak and helpless. The battle was hard fought but in the end the brave adventures came out on top.

Several other rooms, store closets and warehouses and barracks lined the hallway. One room even contained a man awaiting slaves. He fought to the death, with nothing more than a curse to the party for their effort. In another room was a man known as executioner, and rightly so as he wore a black executioner’s hood on his head and was donned in fine black chain mail. He wielded a hefty bastard sword with two curving hooks in the cross guards which gave him an uncanny ability to disarm his opponents as Gren found out as his chain went flying from his hand.

Snaking around the hallway we came upon a kitchen. In this room was a odd mixture of hobgoblins, were-boars and Icar, the cruel fort leader. The battle was hard fought as the were-boars were a tough lot and Icar was tougher still. He seemed immune to even the toughest magic we threw at him. Heavy wounds of every kind racked up upon his body, but the most telling was the blast wound from Khael’s searing light magic, ironic that a blind man could be hurt by light. In a rage of fury he charged the fire pit where he had previously thrown Khael and pinned him into the flames, a last ditch effort to take at least one of us down with him.

He himself burned in flames.

The connecting rooms were bedrooms and more storage chambers. In Icar’s bedroom we ran into a medusa, a foul creature whose gaze can turn others to stone and indeed it did. Khael, Delvin and Thalus all turned to stone by the gaze of that most foul of beasts. After slaying the beast it was Venotheeb who had the solution to breath life into the stone statues but it came at a price, he needed magic. Potions and a used up ring were required. The magic was then taken from the items and used to fuel a spell to turn stone to flesh.

Down into the depth’s of the keep we went where the party encountered a room full of goblin’s which were easily dispatched. Then down the hallway were a strange, large magnet pulled the parties metal weapons and armor to the wall. Delvin got the worst of it as he was unable to move as he was wearing full interlocking plates of metal. Stuck he was until the release lever for the trap was found. Around the corner we encountered some spiders using a dead body covered in cob webs to lure victims to their doom. After slaying the beasts we found a secret door and a hallway and that is were the party ponders their next move.

 

[DM-Rocco]

session 4 Module A2 Secret of the Slaver Stockade

Screaming came from beyond the door and light shined under it. When Gren opened the door an enormous pillared room can be seen. In the swaying shadows, set dancing by the light of a chandelier swinging back and forth. The floor is 10’ below the landing on which the door opens and a set of stairs leads down into the room. To either side of these steps where small, 5’ ledges. The ceiling stood 30’ from the ground and the room gave the appearance of a torture chamber, for about the room can be seen racks, hanging cages and chains, iron maidens, fir pits and braziers; and their unfortunate occupants. Standing amongst these implements of torture where many goblins. On all sides of the room could also be seen great archways, some leading to alcoves, while others are walled up. Suddenly the swinging chandelier came crashing down from the ceiling to smash at the top of the stairs, exploding into flame as the oil spills and ignites.

It was Thalus that closed the door and prevented the party from burning to death. Once everyone had a change to prepare for the worst of it, the party charged into the room. Thalus lead the assault with a web spell. This had the fortunate affect of paralyzing many of the goblins and the unfortunate effect of preventing us from getting to the bowman. It was the misfit styling of Thorin that saved the day. He dimension slide to the back of the room and went to town on the feeble defenses of the Goblins. Gren contributed to the fray by finding the secret door that lead to the Bugbears and their secret room that they used to fire arrows from. The battle was slow and long but in the end the party defeated the hordes and moved deeper into the dungeons.

The party then reached a might steam filled chasm. Steam from the depths made vision, (except those in the party with steam vision 60’ radius) obscure and limited to five yards. Gren easily jumped from ledge to ledge and made it to the other side with ease. The others in the party where a far cry from being as good as the sure footed tomb raider. Thalus was the first to slip on the moist condensation of the ledges and fall to the depths below. His magic saved him from a certain death as he first used it to slow his descent and then to fly around like a Super Drow. Delvin used his magic as well, but instead of flying he created a disk for the others to ride on and he jumped across. The first jump was a success but he to fell, along with all of his comrades, into the depths of the steam chasm, impaling themselves on the stalagmites. After some quick healing and skillful rope use, the party moved on to a room filled with bees. A quick burning hands spell from delving killed them all and the party move on once again.

A long corridor lay before the party and once most of the party was more than half way down the hall, a huge net fell from the ceiling, covering Khael and Delvin. This didn’t seem so bad at first but Khael, being a man of the cloth, had no edged weapons of which to cut his way to freedom. Had he been along, he surely would have died of starvation instead of what happened next. A horn blew and the call of the wild was out. Works, complete with their goblin, lance wielding riders, charged the party from all angles ran through Thorin and Gren, although not before both served their purpose and defeated many of the riders. While they lay dieing on the ground, grasping for breath, the remainder of the party barely survived themselves. Aid was quick in coming, and just in time too, had they waited another moment, Thorin would have had his name penned in the dead book for sure, with Gren following soon thereafter. Khael’s supply of healing spells was quickly running low; luckily the goblins had a cache of healing potions in store. Enough to cure everyone to full vitality with enough for every member to carry one for himself. The goblins room was a filth hole but his is were the party recuperated until they decide on their next move.

 

[DM-Rocco]

Session 5 Module A2 and the begining of a module called In the Abyss

Here is session 5 and I need sleep. I will check the response tomorrow and add in the other sessions. This covers the end of A2 and the begining of a module called In the Abyss.



Gren carefully approached the intersection of the hall. He and his companions had been through many hard and tiring adventures as of late but his keen mind and persistent discipline would not allow him to waver in his commitment to test and track his movements.



“The passage ahead is clear my friends,” Gren said, and as he spoke the words he took a fateful step forward, and before he had a chance to correct himself, a loud barking began to echo up and down the hall. At first the sheer volume of the place gave the illusion that the sound was coming from behind, but it soon became apparent that the sound was coming from in front of them.



“Si’lo dath dah,” came the spidery words of magic from Gren’s mouth as a spell escaped his lips.



“Tentica huens fornicka,” came the simultaneous slippery words of his fellow spell caster and comrade, Thalus. Gren’s spell of silence affected the area of the corridor at the cross roads while Thalus’s Evard’s tentacles spells affected a greater surrounding area.



“Well, that is just great,” sarcastically said Khael, “now they can’t hear themselves being ripped to bits. Hey, how long does that spell last anyway.”



“Why don’t you take a long walk down the hall and find out,” replied Thalus with an evil sneer of his lip. Thalus waited a moment and then dispelled his spell.



From the journal of Thalus



We moved to the door and with a cautious hand, Gren opened the door. We didn’t burst into the door and charge at the first thing that moved, but we quickly wished we did. Markessa cast a lightning bolt down the corridor where we were standing. Such a perfect line of fodder, and we walked right into it.



Quickly we moved into the room, goblins lined the top balconies and arrows rained down from above. We tried to find shelter from the storm of arrows by hiding under the recess, but a sinister trick was at hand, the two stuffed bears in the room were actually real Owl Bears. These creatures have a frightening array toughness with an uncanny offensive attack of claw, claw, beak.



We found ourselves pinned down by the barrage of arrows, the owl bears and the destructive magic from the war wizard Markessa. She countered every spell I threw at her and managed to cast some of her own as well. The spells I did manage to get off were absorbed by some unseen magic barrier. In such cases she would use her sword to devastating effect, cutting the poor unfortunate Thorin to pieces.



Delvin countered Markessa’s lighting bolt with one of his own, the bolt slew the bugbear and, as it Rica shade off of the walls, it took with it six other goblins and scorched me on my rump.



After a long struggle, we finally managed to get the upper hand and it was then that Markessa fled. I summoned a mount and gave chase, the freshly revitalized Thorin secure on my flank. Around the corner of the hall I went and at the cross roads I stopped.







A man approached me, and gave his name as Blackthorn. I had no use for his name and declared him an enemy of all that is pure and attacked. This could have been my down fall as I watched in horror as the man turned from this form to that of an Ogre Magi. I could feel that he was trying to cast a charm spell on me, but my inherit Drow nature resisted this spell, I was not so luck the next time around as he cast a Cone of pure Cold and sent me to the realm of unconsciousness.







I’m not sure what the after life looks like, but I imagine peace and tranquility. but what I saw was more akin to the dezions of the abyss swarming over my body and tearing it apart piece by piece as the Lady of Spiders, Loth, stood watch. If I live to be a 1,000 I shall never step foot into that accursed realm. I am not sure what happened next, only that I awoke to find my horse frozen solid and myself not in any better shape. Blackthorn turned to a gaseous form and had flown away so we made the decision to go to the nearest door and find Markessa. In side the room an elf warrior was busy practicing on training dummies and this time I calmed my dark side and parlayed with the man.



He spun us a sad tale of how Markessa had turned him from a ugly elf to a man of stunning beauty with a horrible surgery, his scars were still see on the back of his neck. He told an other tale of his true love, the woman who looked like Markessa but was not Markessa. Markessa had taken a female human and turned her into a female elf that looked just like her. She then brainwashed the elf to act and think just like her in every mannerism, she even taught her some of her magic skills too. The elven fighter agreed to help us as long as no harm befell his beloved.



He led us to another room, Markessa’s private bed room, and here was Markessa, calmly fixing her makeup, and then in an instant she was gone. She had made herself invisible, but Khael would not allow such a thing to go on and he dispelled her invisibility and she fled again to a room with a single pentagram on the floor. It was here that we learned of her true nature as she summoned a demon with six arms to deal with us. Ripsal she called her, and she was sinister. Rather than kill us, she sent us to the planes of hell. Not a very nice place this Nine Hells. With some effort we woke Thorin up and he plane shifted the party to Sigil, the way station of the universe.



Sigil, the city of doors, a plane of infinite portals. It was here that we choose to rest and regain our strength. A quick commune to Pelor assured us that Venotheeb had finished what we started in the Hillfort by banishing the demon and rallying the slaves into a revolt and the over throw of Markessa and her timely escape. With the Hillfort taken, we were free, for the moment, to pursue other interests, unfortunately I did not plan on Willum. Willum offered the party an obscene amount of gold and jewels to travel into the abyss and retrieve a ship that was stolen from the general insurance company of Sigil. After some debate we decided the money was to good to pass up and off to the abyss we went.



We had a couple of days to get our affairs in order, but after that it was off to Natasha’s barber shop where the portal to the first layer of the abyss was. With a rusted piece of metal thrust into the door way the portal sprang into life and in we went. Once on the other side we were accosted by a demon known as Molyduce. Molyduce had two heads, one serpentine and the other canine, and when he talked it was an eerie mix of the two heads finishing off each others words. Words got us no were as we were not able to parlay our intent to him since we had no funds in which to bribe him with and it was against our nature to turn over a member of our party to be abducted into the blood war. So, when Khael cast a blessing on the party, it was recivied as an act of war. We tried to kill him quickly but Molyduce was a strong enemy. He escaped us, but I fear we have not heard the last of Molyduce.



All around us nothing but despair. Why did we come to this realm. No matter, nothing can be done about that, we have only our wits and our skills and we shall need them both to get out unscathed, but which way to go?

 

[DM-Rocco]

Session 6 Module In the Abyss

New character enters the mix:
Stonecracker boulderwacker, Dwarven paladin/dwarven Defender

and his Halbred:

Lawbringer - Lawbringer is intelligent and the weapon is unique as it has a hammer on one end, flip it over and it acts as an axe and it also has a spear point so the wielder can do any of the three types of damage.

* * *​

“Hail to you yon adventures,” exclaimed Stonecracker Boulderwhacker, ”what brings a Githyanki and his odd mix of companions to the depths of the Abyss?” Out of the rust red mists of the Abyss stepped a stocky figure of a man, barrel chested, yet obviously well muscled; he strolled with ease through the thick sands of the Abyss. Armored from head to toe in finely crafted, glistening gleaming plate armor that proudly bared the gauntlet fist of Helm on his breastplate, and all manner of sheaths and straps held various hammers and axes for every occasion. The dwarven knight walked with an air of confidence, secure in his own ability to smite the forces of evil.
“I see that you bear the burden of Helm,” said Khael, ”we are on a hunting mission to retrieve a piece of lost property, what brings you to such an inhospitable place.”

“I am Stonecracker Boulderwhacker, and I was drinking to the conquests of Helm when a evil cleric of Cyric ambushed me and the next thing a knew, I awoke on the abyss. Luckily I still had my trusted pig sticker,” said Stonecracker Boulderwhacker as he pat his faithful halberd. The wicked weapon was imposing indeed, one end had a curved blade of an axe with a keen edge and the opposing side bared a heavy hammer while the center of the weapon held a large spike. The polished wooden handle glowed slightly with every swing as the blade of the weapon sang a song of war with every slash, thrust and impact of the mighty weapon.

“For a score of nights plus three I have wondered the abyss, slaying man and beast and demon alike. Were it not for the lack of food and drink in this gloom of doom I think I should find this plane a home for a while, while I teach the bidding of Helm to all who ask and deliver his judgment on those that don’t. Say young whelps, what property is it that you said you seek and per chance do you have a wheel of cheese and a draft of ale, I am a bit parched and lacking of food. I am a light eater, as are all dwarfs you know.”

“We didn’t say what we are looking for and it is none of your concern,” snapped Thalus with a sneer at the dwarf. He obviously didn’t believe that the dwarf was a light eater, he knew to many dwarves in his days.

“Thalus, hold your tongue, do you know no pity or compassion. Here brave dwarf, have some cheese, I have plenty. Gren, some ale for our new friend, for I am a cleric of Pelor the Sun God and I recognize a brother when I see one.”

“I am Gren, a treasure hunter and seeker of fortune and these are my companions, Thalus the good hearted Drow elf, a wizard of great power, Delvin a half fire elemental who has been trained in both the arts of wizardry and warrior, Thorin, a Githyanki psionic warrior and hunter of illithids and our ever friendly and cheerful cleric Khael whom you have just meet. We are in search of a ship, we can confer no other information than that as we don’t even know what it looks like but has been described as having the looks of nothing we have ever seen before.”

Stonecracker Boulderwhacker Accepted the bread and cheese and ale from the group of stout hearted adventures and listened intently to the introductions. At the mention of the ship his jaw dropped and apiece of cheese fell from his mouth and landed in his beard, a look of horror filled his now pale skin. He regained his composure and, being a dwarf and not wanting to waste the precious meal, folded his beard to his mouth and ate the cheese from the braided beard and wiped the corners of his parched lips with the ends of his beard.

“I think I have seen your ship, bigger than anything I have ever seen it was. The construct had to be at least 300 feet long, probably longer. It was maybe 80 or 100 feet wide and at least 100 feet tall. They’re where two heads, one facing forward, the other to the rear. Each head was a colossal face as wide and as tall as the ship. They both had glassy eyes, protruding noses, and gaping mouths full of teeth the size of tavern doors. Not the small tavern doors of the human city folks, but the great tavern doors of the great dwarven bars. I have seen the ship you seek several leagues behind me and I know it is the object which you seek as I have never seen such a thing in all my long hard three years in the dwarves navy.”

The party stood in silence, unable to decide which it believed less, the description of the ship, the fact that the dwarf had survived out in the hostile environment of the Abyss or that there really was a dwarves navy.

“If you will have us, come and join us. You seem to know the ways of the Abyss and have knowledge in which we seek, we on the other hand, can offer you food, ale and the chance to smite evil, what say you, will you join our merry band,” offered Gren, with an out stretched hand.

“If I will have you, if you will have me it should be said. If you are on the side of the righteous and will honor my beliefs as your own than a friend and companion you have found. Follow me my young lads and I shall show you to this ship you seek. Say now cleric of Pelor, what other kinds of wondrous food stocks do you hold in the backpack of yours.”

“ So, a dwarven navy?” Inquired Khael as he absentmindedly passed another hunk of cheese to the stout dwarf.

“Oh, a glorious navy it is too, the dwarves invented the navy you know. We are as natural swimmers as we are runners you know. Let me share the tale with you over a flagon of ale and perhaps later I shall tell you of the five years I spent in the dwarven air force.”

Khael extended his drinking flask as his jaw hit the floor.


From the journal of Stonecracker Boulderwhacker

Today I have met a hardy group of adventures and have agreed to show them to the ship of chaos. We traveled many leagues to reach the city of raazorforge where the ship was anchored. First a most perplexing riddle of a beggar who only moaned for food. The beggar was actually an illusion created by a creature known as a cranium rat. One cranium rat is pretty much just like a normal rat, save their great size, however, should many gather together in one area they have the uncanny ability to create illusions and attack as one with bolts of pure energy. We struggled slightly with these creatures before they dispersed.

After collecting our wits we moved on and encountered a band of adventures who where in the same situation as myself, a terrible aliment that gnaws on your insides and consumes your every moment of existence until you wish that you where dead, the bane of all dwarven kin - they suffered from hunger and thirst.

They too had encountered the cranium rats and had driven them off but in their case the rats gathered and returned later at night and stole their food. It broke my heart to give them food as my own appetite was not yet quenched but luckily for me they passed on the remains of the roasted rat that I had left, tastes like chicken you know. We gathered some valuable information and parted as friends. Perhaps we shall meet again down the road.

A few leagues further brought us to the lakes of molten iron. Here we witnessed an effreeti being chased by a pack of wild Varrangoin, terrible blood sucking, and winged bat like creatures with skulls for heads. The Varrangoin drove off the effreeti and that is when a Glabrezu named G’oud’neejh haled our party and asked to parley with us. The conversation was mostly one sided and we talked our way out of any potential conflict. We left on good parting terms with him giving us five diamonds, each worth five hundred gold galleons and a coin engraved with his name on the back. He said we could use it to summon him if ever we need his help. After much debate Thalus gave the coin to his bat and ordered him to take the coin and throw it into a ravine.

Delvin, a fairly skilled metal smith, though not by dwarven standards, used this pause in our adventures to gather some of the molten metal from the lake to use for further development into arms and armor.

Finally we reached the city of raazorforge and were approached by a beautiful woman dressed in tattered wizard robes. She confessed to being lost in the abyss and seeks a way to get back home. After much debate we agreed to accept her into our fold but only if she would relinquish her spell components to us as a safety measure. She agreed, but only if I were the one to hold the spells components and only if I would swear to keep her from harm of any kind. Being a paladin of Helm, I could not refuse such a charge and readily agreed.

We boarded the ship in thanks to Sharazar, the fore mentioned mage. She used a spell to teleport the whole of the party on to the deck of the ship. It seemed to misfire though because we landed in the brig. We would later come to find out that the only place you can teleport to on the ship was the brig as it was a safe guard against others teleporting straight on the ship or the navigation room. In the brig we met a man named Hugh and he is crazy, that is what the others called him, but I can never tell, the temperament of humans seems all the same to me. He did keep referring to the two dead tied bodies, and the one that was still alive, as razor vine and also kept feeling everyone’s head to see if we had fevers. Regardless, I decided to rush him and knock him out but the slave girl, falcate, drew a hidden dagger and killed him with one swift blow to the back. We eventually tied and gagged her and questioned the other for information. His name was Curly, and had he not of stunk of evil we would have freed him and brought him into our fold, as it was, we gathered what information we could and then squeezed through the bars, or rib cage of the ship.

We explored the holding room of the ship. Obviously the ship must still be preparing to take on a crew, as much of the ship was still empty. However, we did find a ballista room filled with Dretches who manned the weapons against any who should take the ship from the out side. Unfortunately for them I am skilled on sticking them with pig sticker from the inside and made short work of them. We made our way back to the main hold and contemplated how to get through the only entrance to the other areas of the ship - through the giant hole in the ceiling of the ship.

 

[DM-Rocco]

Session 7 Module In the Abyss

Session 7 was a bit shorter as most of the gaming night was spent arguing over what to do next and the fight with the demon

* * *​

Session 7

From the thoughts of “Drugar” Lawbringer in the common tongue

With every cut I feel empowered, with every swing a rush, with every death, life. Feed me that demon blood and I shall protect you well, let me drink from the darkness that you may walk in the light. My master joined an odd host of companions and ever since, I have drank.

We have entered the ship of Chaos and my master was kind to say the least. A blood bath of a battle quickly erupted and I found myself saving the day, I slew many, the fact that it was my masters hand that held me holds no relevance, with out me they would have all died.



Dozens of lesser demons filled the ship and released the holding pens while a host of Vrocks assailed us from above. It was through my divine might that the others lived to see the light of day. They are so dim witted, they had no idea that a Maralith, a six armed demon of the abyss, was after their souls. Had it not once again been for me, they would have all perished. Perhaps one day I will not heed the call of my master, perhaps I shall not aid him in his time of need, perhaps, but for now, I drink.

 

[DM-Rocco]

Session 8 & 9 Module In the Abyss and the begining of A3 Assult on the Aerie

After the battle with the Marilith, the adventures gained partial control of the ship, but the ship itself had control of where it was going and it brought the adventurers to a city that was in the heart of the first layer of the abyss. There, there was a tower which the adventures sought shelter from the chaotic fighting in the streets, but to their surprise, the tower was the hide out of those that sought the ship for themselves. A host of demons and devils and cultists had been fighting over the cntrol of the sip when they walked in. Things were about to break into a fight when one of the Balor demons suggested a game of chance with a deck of many things to settle the matter.

* * *​

Session 8 and 9

Thalus’s journal

It was a game of chance, a game of fate, a game of death. 42 cards in a magical deck filled with the chaotic energy of the abyss. The deck of many things is but a pass time of the demons that haunt the abyss, but for us it was a nightmare world come true. While the minions of the abyss hardly lift a finger to face the threats and rewards of the deck, myself and my companions struggled through many different twists and turns and challenges.

Why, on my first draw proved this point as my very soul was ripped from my body and imprisoned on another plane. I will not write here of the horrors that I endured in that foul place, for time worked much differently in that realm, what was but minutes in our world was centuries on that dreaded world. I have suffered for that journey, though you could not see it by the look of me, unless you gazed in my eyes, there the eyes hold my true age. You can never hide the truth behind the stare. I have suffered, and of it I shall speak no more.

A twisted and warped game it was, with an out come that I had little say in, indeed, by the time I returned to my body the strange world of my imprisonment stripped much of my memory from me for no one call recall a certain day five centuries pasted. I had to rely on accounts of others, the dwarf, whom I dislike for his holier than thou approach to life, had suffered a similar imprisonment, and while he claims it was nothing compared to his five year stint as a prison warden, I can tell the experience left him emotionally scared. The cleric Khael suffered a deconstruction of his very being, every fiber of his body was ripped away and his soul scattered amongst the devouring gods of the beyond. For all that was bad, there also was some that was good. Khael had also drawn a card that twisted his fates and reversed his inexistence. Gren gained a sizable keep and the Githyanki gained in strength and power. Through some complex scoring system we came away as the victors and the demons of the abyss were forced to comply and destroy the ship.

We retreated to sigil where we found Willum. Willum, I never thought I would see that one again. He kept his word and paid us well, plus a bonus, he gave us a house, a house in sigil. Can’t say that I much care for the location, I prefer to keep my feet on the Prime material plane, but the house is nice.

I had little time to recover from my ordeal for I was reminded that the slaves still needed to be freed. We have the location of the Isle of the slave lords and it was with great speed and much urgency that we traveled to the coastal town of Jerkin. Here we found our first clues as to where it was that we needed to be. A well-planned ambush left the slavers dead and a well place speak with dead spell allowed us to divine the location of the Isle. We made our way there with great haste.

Our party has done well, we have made our way through a secret underground passage to a gate hidden by bushes and shrubs, The passage must have run far underground, for the hill is on an island in the center of a large crater lake. Our group came out on the rocky slopes of a hill in the shadow of an extinct volcano, Mt. Flamenblut, below us lies the island — the Aerie of the Slave Lords! It is now clear why no military force could ever make a successful assault — the one pass that leads from the known Drachensgrab trails to the Slave Lords' stronghold is narrow and winding; a small force could effectively guard it and destroy all enemies. Even if an army could force its way through the pass, it would have no way to cross the Crater Lake.

We emerged high above our goal: the hidden city of Suderhom. Its mighty walls make it impregnable, so a more subtle method of entry is called for. We observed Suderham from afar for the rest of the afternoon, Patrols on the wall and in the streets are frequent, more so in the western section than the lower-class southeastern section. Public disturbances appear to be punished quickly and harshly. It is time to review our situation.

The kings, dukes, and lords who hired us have mode well on their part of the bargain, healing and resurrecting my comrades who were wounded or slain. In our previous adventures we lost some magic items but obtained others, and we now find ourselves equipped as indicated, Ready for action, we descend toward the ramshackle buildings and dock area outside the city walls.

In the slum sections outside the city, we encountered a dozen or so richly-attired people in fine silken robes disdainfully making their way toward the city gate, Guessing them to be buyers of slaves, our party ambushes and subdues the frightened aristocrats without difficulty. We learned from them that Suderham is known as the City of the Nine — the nine dreaded Slave Lords.

It is an imposing stronghold, guarded by elite troops culled from the races of the dozen or more lands where the slavers hold sway. We have learned that within the city is a well-guarded stronghold — impossible for so small a party as ours to penetrate. However, there are rumors of subterranean passageways beneath the city, used only by the Slave Lords and their agents. Certain contacts in the city gave us clues, which we used to find this passageway.

A search of our prisoners reveals papers that will grant entry into the city, and their fine robes effectively cover our armor if no one looks too closely, we have chosen to enter the city at sunset to improve our disguise and to avoid unnecessary encounters and challenges. Tying up the prisoners, we also realize we must act quickly. Guards might find your prisoners, or escaped enemies from previous adventures might arrive to give warning of your coming. One of your prisoners laughs before you gag him: "You fools! The Slave Lords know everything their enemy’s do! You haven't a chance.”

I shall show him who knows what. Gren proved to be a valuable member to the team; it was he that deciphered the strange and cryptic messages from the underground resistance that is entrenched in this city of sin. Finger jestures, hand movements and head nodes meant little to me, but they spoke volumes to him and he knew well what it is we must do and where it was that we must go. I have suffered much for the freedom of these slaves and now the slave lord will pay ten fold for every atrocity visited on these innocent folks. They shall feel Drow vengeance.

 

[DM-Rocco]

Session 10&11 module A3 Assult on the Aerie of the Slave Lords

Ajakstu weaved an intricate spell of divination upon the glass orb and closed his eyes. He felt the magic surge into him and flow through his veins as he blocked out all distractions from with in his spell chamber. Loosing himself to the crystal ball before him, Ajakstu, newest member of the Slave Lords, gentle closed his grasp on his beloved staff. Though his magical skill and might in the arts arcane were regarded as above par, he trusted in his staff, for this staff of power had helped him reach the heights of power he swims in today and though it no longer is a crutch to attain power it is now, as it has been, a good safe guard. His staff, he never lets it out of his sight.

“Well,” remarked an impatient Mordrammo, “what is it you see.” Mordrammo tried in vein to peer into the crystal ball, but to no avail, for when he looked into the ball all he saw was a crystal ball of finely crafted glass. Mordrammo was an impatient man with a quick temper, but in spite of that, he remained surprisingly calm and collected when it came to matters of business or combat. Little in the world could goad him into action that would be later deemed as unwise. For a score of years plus three he has served the Slave lords as the high priest. He knew his own worth and that rushing to conclusions could be bad for business, let alone his life.

“They have found the sea wall entrance and slew the gnoll guards in the salt shaft,” said Ajakstu, straining to get a better picture. “They have by passed the electric trap and the rope pit. They are a cleaver lot this group.”

“Don’t be quick to give them too much credit,” came the cold reply from Brother Milerjoi, “they have no discipline, no self control. You told me yourself they fight amongst themselves every inch of the way.” Brother Milerjoi was a member of the scarlet brotherhood, a group of nomadic monks that enclosed themselves in their mountain palace, far removed from the outside world, trying to find enlightenment. Brother Milerjoi and his apprentice left that shelter to bring enlightenment to the masses and joined the Slave Lords to that end.

“Yes,” came a reply from Feetla, “but remember the raid on Glintsa, that savage and undisciplined lot of nomadic barbarians almost proved our undoing. Sometimes wisdom is not enough, sometimes brute strength is more than you need.” Feetla was their trusted and charismatic leader. His naval strength and cunning have often been attributed to the success of the Slave Lords as a whole.

“Where are they now?”

“They have just defeated Kilhornji,” calmly stated Ajakstu.

“What, that is impossible, no one has ever been able to defeat that beast, the monster can jump through shadows and distort the eyes of those that look upon him.”

“Calm down Mordrammo.”

“I will not calm down Brother Milerjoi, if they have defeated Kilhornji, that means they have bested the flesh golem, the very golem we had equipped with armor bolted onto his skin to make him impregnable. The very best Ajakstu said would stop anyone who crossed its path.

“That means that they also made it past the roper, who’s very tough can turn others to stone or control their minds. And let us not forget your hired hand Wimpell Frump. Your gnome illusionist didn’t prevent them from finding the secret door that lead into our inner sanctum. The Aerie of the Slave Lords has been breached; we should flee before we die.

“Get a hold of your self master Mordrammo, I have need of you,” said Feetla, “I have need of all of you. Yes, they have breached our inner sanctum, but they shall not drive us from our home. We have fought to hard to attain what we have to let a rag tag rabble crew from the combined might of the kings chase us away.”

“You have a plan,” questioned Brother Milerjoi, “ as always?”

“Take your positions in the throne room, we have a long forgotten ally,” said Feetla.

“Who?”

In response to Mordrammo’s question a dark figure, and another, emerged from the shadows. Everyone knew Nerelas, the chief assassin of the Slave Lords, but it was the other that had accompanied him from the journey through the shadow realm. They all knew her and hated her, for she had never really proven herself, not in the ways that the others had. Yes she showed promise and her numbers could not be denied, but her hunger for power was an unsettling pain in the ranks of the Slave Lords, so none allied with her and all watched their backs.

“Why the surprised look on your face, you thought I was dead, perhaps slain by the same band of adventures that stalks you now. So quick you all were to condemn me when you thought I had failed you all, now it looks as if you shall all fail and die in the process, why should I help you?”

Feetla’s features grew grim and his cold hard stare pierced into the woman’s soul, the seriousness of the look bringing a deathly silence to all in the room.

“Because we have a need of you Markessa and should provide us with that which we seek, you shall be given the one thing you have always craved, a seat on the Slave Lord council, should you fail, I‘ll leave that to your imagination.”

Markessa stared back at the hated glares of the five leading members of the Slave Lords and gave a nod.

“I know just what to do.”

* * *
​

“As you can see, the stone slab that fell behind you will prevent your escape and you are no match for our might. I would offer you the chance to parley before I accept your surrender. Do you have any last words before you chose to disarm yourself? I will give you the satisfaction of answering your questions, in honor of your bravery and brilliance for being the first to reach our inner sanctum, but after that, I expect that you will concede that you are over matched and surrender. Although, it may be fun to take you down by the sword, I could use a challenge, even is it is a minor one at best.” The five Slave Lords sat on their thrones, laughing, laughing, laughing; and the echoes in the chamber laughed along as well.

 

[DM-Rocco]

Session 12 module Assult on the Aerie of the Slave Lords and the begining of A4

SOme of what the part did in the meat of the dumgeon is missing, but here is the final battle:

“Speak with me then master buccaneer, for I have in the past represented our intentions and I think for all involved I am their voice,” came a bold reply from Gren, his posture imposing, with an authoritive stance.

StoneCracker Boulderwhacker tried to get a word in at that moment but soon found himself smacking his meaty hand to his forehead when Gren continued before the mighty dwarf could speak.

“I have several questions for you master,” Gren paused for a dramatic effect.

“Feetla,” came the reply.

“Yes, well, Feetla, and you are,”

“How rude of me, please I should have given consideration to the possibility that you have not heard of us, of course introductions are in order,” came the confidant reply from Feetla, his ego shining through in the tones of his voice.

Stonecracker took this time to stand to the left and forward of Gren and as he did so he fashioned his braided beard behind his head and tied it into a knot. Five years service in the dwarven army had shown him the value of not getting blood on ones beard before or during a good fight. While the introductions went on he loosened his stiff limbs with some rousing stretches, one hand over the head to the oppisite shoulder, twisting the waist and deep knee bends cause hot blood to flow to his vitail areas and prepare for diplomacy dwarven style.

“So you see Gren, it is a simple matter of profit versus risk, the risk is low and the profit margin high, surely you can see the sense in the making of money. In fact, if you take into account the current - “ At that moment a loud screeching noise filled the large chamber and all looked to the source as it was now Gren‘s turn to smack his hand to his forehead. Front and center stood StoneCracker Boulderwhacker, blunt end of his multi headed halberd screeching across the ground, grating like finger nails on a black board. It was a slow and distinguished screech, prolonged by that fact that he made a complete circle around his body just to make sure he had everyone’s attention.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am StoneCracker Boulderwhacker, slayer of demons,” said Stonecracker as he patted his Maralith head hanging from his belt, “defender of truth and drinker of hardy provisions. Now, so my five years in the dwarven diplomacy squad was not in vain, would it be fair to say that you are creatures of evil, so I know that I am not killing those of the good persuasion, I would hate behead an innocent.”

The features on Feetla grew grave, but Gren could not decide if it was from the daring speech the dwarf had just made or from the dwarf holding up his index finger, representing one, then pointing towards Ajaktsu, two fingers and pointing to Nerelas, so on and so forth, down the line until he had pointed to each and everyone of them, then hand clenched, his fist went straight into the air and he raised his index finger again and this time made a motion as if slitting his own throat.

Feetla immediately stood but a motion from the dwarf held him in check.

“Hold,” boomed the dwarf and Feetla and the other slaver lords stopped dead in their tracks. “Come to me and kneel before me and I will give you a quick death, one swipe, clean cut to the neck, but no matter what happens master Feetla, I will kill you last.”

This enraged Feetla and at that second hell was unleashed. Feetla raised his crossbow and let loose a bolt from his bow, striking true to the chest of the mighty dwarf.

Ajakstu lost himself in his magic and let loose a spell of slowness on StoneCracker Boulderwhacker, slowing him where he stood, Brother Milerjoi also attack StoneCracker Boulderwhacker, gracefully throwing two daggers into the arms of StoneCracker, who only grunted at the pain. StoneCracker made a motion to engage the monk and found his reflexes not to be slowed as Ajakstu had intended, but he motioned himself in slow action to fool the rest of the slavers.

Mordrammo called to the heavens and released a jet of flame fro the sky, a pillar of flame that enveloped Devin, who only found joy in being wrapped in the life blood of his home plain. Devin retaliated with a deadly fireball which sent the slave lords scattering.

Nerelas and Gren both had the same idea in that they both turned invisible, and Khael rushed to the dwarfs side to heal his already accumulating wounds.

Feetla lifted another cross bow and let loose another bolt that found it’s mark in the dwarves hide.

“Fer that you just moved up in the list bub, LAWBRINGER” cried the dwarf, but the threat was made mute by the stunning blow from Brother Milerjoi, two pounding first of fury found their mark on the dwarves jaw, stunning the might dwarf for a moment. It was then that the dwarf decided that he had had enough of the falsehood of his slowness and with all his might cut the monk a mighty blow from hip to hip and then followed through with a hefty swing that found its mark straight and true to the monks neck.

“That’s one, who next?”

Ajakstu stood his ground as he locked his gaze at Devin, while Devin went through the motions of casting a spell; Ajakstu anticipated the spell and attempted to counter it with his own magic. Although Ajakstu was the mightier of the two, Devin proved more powerful in this one instance, he years of training and mastery of a single school allowing him to succeed where other would fail. A wall of fire soon erupted from the floor, covering the ground where the slavers stood, but Ajakstu held his ground, the flames not seeming to touch him, so it was Khael that cast the next spell and this spell too Ajakstu tried to counter but with his attention focused on Devin he did not see it coming until the spell was released and blades, shooting from the ground in a 45 degree angle, making short work of the arch mage, for what did not finish him of in the initial pass, did tear him to bits and pieces a moment later.

It was then that Khael, rejoicing in his kill, felt the bitter pain of a knife stab his back, paralyzing him as strange venom filled his body. His body slumped to the floor in a heaping mass as the nox visible Nerelas sipped a potion and then vanished yet again.

Gren had similar plans for Feetla, but the wall of fire and barrier of blades made getting to him impossible, so he attacked Mordrammo with his soul stealer blade. It struck home and drank deep and the cowardly cleric seemed to gain strength from a yet untapped source and raised his hand to the ceiling and called on his dark god for aid.

“May the power of the hand and the eye smith at thee and Vecna take thy soul,” cried the cleric as he traced a symbol of death in the air and Gren slowly felt his very soul being ripped from his body.

“Feel my steel insolent dwarf,” came the battle cry as Feetla balanced his rapier in his hand, expertly moving his sword back and forth, drawing the dwarf’s defenses down and then strike with his sword. StoneCracker got in a few mighty blows, but the sheer volume of attacks from the skilled buccaneer made short work of the dwarf and he too fell, but not before Feetla, battered and bruised from the dwarf’s powerful attacks, spat on the beard of the dying dwarf.

Devin advanced on the evil cleric of Vecna, his flaming sword brandished and ready from attack. Mordrammo backed into the corner, his wounds still to grave to attempt a counter attack, let alone a defense. Up went the sword, smoke and flame excited for the kill, down came the blade, landing on the ground at Mordrammo’s feet. Devin’s body fell to the floor, a gapping wound from his back told all.

“Gather your wits about you Mordrammo, there are council members that need to be brought back from the dead,” came the stone cold voice of the master assassin Nerelas.

* * *
​

The Heroes were captured and in some cases, brought back to life, and then interrogated. Each was placed with a collar; who’s lock vanished when placed around their throats. These collars prevented innate abilities from causing any mayhem and disrupted most spells and clouded the minds of spells casters.

The heroes have been kept in separate cells in a dungeon for an unknown period of time. The only clue as to the duration of their imprisonment is the fact that all of their wounds have healed, but that is of little consequence since the Slave Lords kept them drugged and tortured them to keep them weak. Spell-casters' spells are all long gone from their memories, cast in desperate and clever attempts to escape from the dungeon. Unfortunately, all attempts were failures, though they succeeded in giving the jailers a very hard time.

Clerics have received special treatment: the jailers, knowing that clerics can regain their spells by prayer after sufficient rest, have not allowed the clerics to sleep more than three hours in succession, and have given them even smaller rations of food and water than the other characters have received. Despite this treatment, the clerics' faith has enabled them to persevere, and the jailers have occasionally slipped up in their routine abuse. This has allowed the clerics to quickly pray for (and receive) spells useful to their current condition: cure light wounds, purify food and drink (which doesn‘t seem to work on the drugs they give them), resist cold, create water.

Something finally occurs to break the monotony of imprisonment: the stone shudders and the earth growls as a large tremor rocks the island. Dust filters down from the ceilings of the cells, and the adventurers can hear much shouting and commotion among their captors. After a short period, the doors to the dungeon clang open, and in walks the stronghold's evil High Priest, surrounded by guardsmen.

"The Earth Dragon has spoken!" he announces. "He is hungry, and the time has come to feed you to him, as is our sacred custom. 0h miscreants, now you shall pay for the havoc you have wrought. Guards, subdue them with the Smoke of the Little Death."

He turns and leaves, and the guards go with him. Shortly, however, there is a click as a small aperture is opened in the dungeon door. Through it comes the end of a tube, which spews out the green sleep smoke the characters remember so well....

Standard Dungeon Features

The ceilings of all dungeon tunnels and chambers are approximately 10 feet high, except where otherwise noted. The tunnels vary from 6 to 12 feet in width, averaging about 9 feet wide. All tunnels and chambers are of fine sandstone, except in wet and drippy areas, where the walls are limestone. (This is strange geology for a volcanic island. Perhaps it can be explained by the legend that the Earth Dragon wanted a pleasant isle for his crater lake, so he carried away an entire tropical island and dropped it here.)

The floors of the tunnels and chambers are covered with fine sand to a depth of one foot. The floors in the limestone areas are generally smooth. Stalactites and stalagmites are too thick to break off.



The party awakens in a place where there is no light and no sounds but their own. Characters with infravision can ascertain that all party members are presented. The place they are in looks and feels like a natural cave, about 30 feet in diameter. There are four 10' high exit tunnels somewhat evenly spaced around the perimeter. Characters with infravision cannot see a ceiling; apparently it is too high. The floor is covered withsand.

None of the party have any possessions save a dirty cotton loincloth. They have no weapons, no food, nothing: only their wits, and a small closed cloth tube which rests on the floor in the center of the room. It is a foot-and-a-half long, about the size of a wand or scroll tube.

If the players look down the exit tunnels, they will see nothing down three of them, but they will see a distant, dim light down the fourth (northernmost) tunnel.

This light occasionally flickers and moves slightly. It is 110 feet to the ceiling of this room, where a heavy stone block plugs the hole the characters were lowered through. The walls are crumbly and will not support a climber's weight above a height of 15' even if the climber is using a spider climb spell to adhere to the walls.

The scroll tube is made of cloth, with a light wooden ring at each end to give it its shape The tube

contains three scrolls.

The tube also includes a note, it is to dark to read, even with infravision, but that matters not, the words glow with an eerie illumination and spring forth fro the page, dancing in the air, and for characters that are unable to read, a voice booms throughout the cavern reading the note: "This is not the best I could do to help, but what fun would it be if I gave you your equipment back. May your gods be with you. If you escape, your equipment is being held on the Slave Lords' private boat, the Water Dragon, at the Suderham docks. Signed Malik