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The Unusual Heroes vs. The Pool of Radiance
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Session 5, Part 4: Bushwhacked...
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The party solemnly packed up their equipment and watched Roughner move deeper into the forest. Spiderfang wrapped his severed hand in clean rags and placed it in his backpack. On the way back to town, the young monk contemplated ending or at least postponing his career as a vigilante, traveling to a major city, and offering his servitude to a powerful cleric to reattach his hand.
Riding on the horses they confiscate from Zhent Keep, the party was making good time along the path back from the troll cave to the town of Ashabenford. Suddenly from the side of the road, several men dressed in dark purple cloaks jumped up from the bushes and began attacking the party.
“Take as many as you can alive!” Yelled the man in the back, who by appearance was obviously a mage.
Even though these bandits had a spell caster in their ranks, they posed little threat to the heroes that had just defeated a whole family of trolls. Spiderfang took this opportunity to release some of his built up aggression, and found that he was still a force to be reckoned with even if he did only have one hand.
Drexel went toe to toe with the mage who wore a unique looking claw on one arm, allowing him to cast without dropping his weapon. Feeling particularly threatened by the speed in which his bandit allies were being dispatched, he drew a magical wand and fired several magic missiles into the Drexel. The mage then began casting invisibility, in order to flee while unseen as the party dealt with the last of the other raiders.
Unfortunately for him, Holden had quickly slipped up beside him through the woods, and came rushing out, tripping the casting mage with the flat side of his great sword. The stunned wizard looked up in astonishment as Holden proceeded to plunge the large blade through his midsection, killing him instantly.
As they searched the bodies, they found a symbol that none of them had ever seen before. After some consideration, the party decided that they didn’t like that such a symbol meant the involvement of more individuals like the ones they had just defeated. However, they were in no condition to head deeper into the forest in search of the raider’s hideout. Holden took a few moments to mark a nearby tree so that they would be able to find the location when they returned. The bodies were left where they fell. With any luck, their friends would come looking for them, and when they had, they would leave fresh tracks for Holden to follow when the party returned from town.
Upon reaching Ashabenford that night, the party felt good to be back in the safety of the small but quiet town.
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Next Time: Does Spiderfang leave the party? What does the party learn of the strange symbol?
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Session 5, Part 4: Bushwhacked...
-------------------------------------------
The party solemnly packed up their equipment and watched Roughner move deeper into the forest. Spiderfang wrapped his severed hand in clean rags and placed it in his backpack. On the way back to town, the young monk contemplated ending or at least postponing his career as a vigilante, traveling to a major city, and offering his servitude to a powerful cleric to reattach his hand.
Riding on the horses they confiscate from Zhent Keep, the party was making good time along the path back from the troll cave to the town of Ashabenford. Suddenly from the side of the road, several men dressed in dark purple cloaks jumped up from the bushes and began attacking the party.
“Take as many as you can alive!” Yelled the man in the back, who by appearance was obviously a mage.
Even though these bandits had a spell caster in their ranks, they posed little threat to the heroes that had just defeated a whole family of trolls. Spiderfang took this opportunity to release some of his built up aggression, and found that he was still a force to be reckoned with even if he did only have one hand.
Drexel went toe to toe with the mage who wore a unique looking claw on one arm, allowing him to cast without dropping his weapon. Feeling particularly threatened by the speed in which his bandit allies were being dispatched, he drew a magical wand and fired several magic missiles into the Drexel. The mage then began casting invisibility, in order to flee while unseen as the party dealt with the last of the other raiders.
Unfortunately for him, Holden had quickly slipped up beside him through the woods, and came rushing out, tripping the casting mage with the flat side of his great sword. The stunned wizard looked up in astonishment as Holden proceeded to plunge the large blade through his midsection, killing him instantly.
As they searched the bodies, they found a symbol that none of them had ever seen before. After some consideration, the party decided that they didn’t like that such a symbol meant the involvement of more individuals like the ones they had just defeated. However, they were in no condition to head deeper into the forest in search of the raider’s hideout. Holden took a few moments to mark a nearby tree so that they would be able to find the location when they returned. The bodies were left where they fell. With any luck, their friends would come looking for them, and when they had, they would leave fresh tracks for Holden to follow when the party returned from town.
Upon reaching Ashabenford that night, the party felt good to be back in the safety of the small but quiet town.
-------------------------------------------
Next Time: Does Spiderfang leave the party? What does the party learn of the strange symbol?
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Session 6, Part 1: Readying for Adventure...
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When they arrived back in town; Spiderfang had come to the realization that he couldn’t just leave his friends. He was now somewhat disabled; but he told the party that he would stay and help them investigate this new threat. Although several of the others noted that Spiderfang’s sudden change in attitude seemed almost unhealthy, maybe even borderline self-destructive. They all hoped that he would snap out of it soon, and they spoke of a day when they would be powerful enough to heal him to full health. Yet he was young and impatient, and found it hard to stay optimistic about promises of the distant future. His youth taught him that the future only brought more doubt, confusion, and personal loss.
The party was somewhat optimistic when Tansooth headed off to the local pewter-smith, Arvien of Ashabenford. He brought with him a gauntlet and asked Arvien if she could fill the fingers with pewter in order to keep the gauntlet in a permanent fist, which Tansooth planned to strap to his handless arm.
Meanwhile, Holden visited the house of the High Councilor to negotiate payment for the apprehension of additional raiders that the party might encounter when they track the source of this newfound threat.
Drexel visited the home of Noristuor, the mage of Ashabenford. When asking around, Drexel found out that no one was interested in discussing Noristuor in great length, but he did find out that the man was renowed for his habitual sour manner, sharp tongue, and frightening appearance. Drexel took to asking the local children where Noristuor lived, hoping that his nefarious reputation would have interested kids. He managed to find some children, who spoke of Noristuor as if a monster lived in town. After Drexel handed them a few gold, they spoke freely of where he might be able to find the mage who was obviously a tiefling. Drexel was amused by this discovery, and became more encouraged to meet the man.
As he approached the moderate sized house at the end of a side street, he noticed that it was very quiet, and none of the neighborhood children played near the house. The front yard was fenced in, and when Drexel approached, the image of a face appeared and spoke in a resounding voice, “GO-A-WAY!!!”
The voice continued to speak, while Drexel annoyingly pushed the gate open and moved up to the front door. Knocking repeatedly on the door seemed to have no effect, so Drexel called out, “I can pay you for your services, and I can pay you VERY well.”
Reluctantly, Noristuor opened the door and let Drexel in. After some degree of bartering, Drexel was allowed the use of Noristuor’s library for a substantial amount of coin. When Drexel was finished he spoke one last time to Noristuor, only this time in Infernal, “GhorBichLokNiFer”, or “Good-Bye” in common.
With a crooked smile Noristuor watched Drexel walk through the front gate. Perhaps they would someday be friends Drexel thought as walked away with a few more spells in his spellbook. He grimaced as the animated face continued to bellow; “GO-A-WAY”, and a large group of children had amassed at the end of the road to see the man who had braved the company of the demonic magician.
Drexel was suddenly very thankful for the hat of disguise that hid his own tiefling appearance. Not only does he have many more unusual traits then Noristuor, he was also hunted for his innate ability to control spellfire. The thought of what would happen if those who had chased him out of Thay ever found him ran chills down his spine, and he quickly concentrated on more pleasant thoughts.
The next day, the party regrouped and was more then delighted to discover that they were going to be paid for the mission of tracking down the raiders. They also found out that the symbol was that of the Cult of the Dragon, a group that assists undead dragons in conquering all of Faerun.
Borghin shook his head in disbelief, “That’s got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!”
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Still more to come…
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Session 6, Part 1: Readying for Adventure...
-------------------------------------------
When they arrived back in town; Spiderfang had come to the realization that he couldn’t just leave his friends. He was now somewhat disabled; but he told the party that he would stay and help them investigate this new threat. Although several of the others noted that Spiderfang’s sudden change in attitude seemed almost unhealthy, maybe even borderline self-destructive. They all hoped that he would snap out of it soon, and they spoke of a day when they would be powerful enough to heal him to full health. Yet he was young and impatient, and found it hard to stay optimistic about promises of the distant future. His youth taught him that the future only brought more doubt, confusion, and personal loss.
The party was somewhat optimistic when Tansooth headed off to the local pewter-smith, Arvien of Ashabenford. He brought with him a gauntlet and asked Arvien if she could fill the fingers with pewter in order to keep the gauntlet in a permanent fist, which Tansooth planned to strap to his handless arm.
Meanwhile, Holden visited the house of the High Councilor to negotiate payment for the apprehension of additional raiders that the party might encounter when they track the source of this newfound threat.
Drexel visited the home of Noristuor, the mage of Ashabenford. When asking around, Drexel found out that no one was interested in discussing Noristuor in great length, but he did find out that the man was renowed for his habitual sour manner, sharp tongue, and frightening appearance. Drexel took to asking the local children where Noristuor lived, hoping that his nefarious reputation would have interested kids. He managed to find some children, who spoke of Noristuor as if a monster lived in town. After Drexel handed them a few gold, they spoke freely of where he might be able to find the mage who was obviously a tiefling. Drexel was amused by this discovery, and became more encouraged to meet the man.
As he approached the moderate sized house at the end of a side street, he noticed that it was very quiet, and none of the neighborhood children played near the house. The front yard was fenced in, and when Drexel approached, the image of a face appeared and spoke in a resounding voice, “GO-A-WAY!!!”
The voice continued to speak, while Drexel annoyingly pushed the gate open and moved up to the front door. Knocking repeatedly on the door seemed to have no effect, so Drexel called out, “I can pay you for your services, and I can pay you VERY well.”
Reluctantly, Noristuor opened the door and let Drexel in. After some degree of bartering, Drexel was allowed the use of Noristuor’s library for a substantial amount of coin. When Drexel was finished he spoke one last time to Noristuor, only this time in Infernal, “GhorBichLokNiFer”, or “Good-Bye” in common.
With a crooked smile Noristuor watched Drexel walk through the front gate. Perhaps they would someday be friends Drexel thought as walked away with a few more spells in his spellbook. He grimaced as the animated face continued to bellow; “GO-A-WAY”, and a large group of children had amassed at the end of the road to see the man who had braved the company of the demonic magician.
Drexel was suddenly very thankful for the hat of disguise that hid his own tiefling appearance. Not only does he have many more unusual traits then Noristuor, he was also hunted for his innate ability to control spellfire. The thought of what would happen if those who had chased him out of Thay ever found him ran chills down his spine, and he quickly concentrated on more pleasant thoughts.
The next day, the party regrouped and was more then delighted to discover that they were going to be paid for the mission of tracking down the raiders. They also found out that the symbol was that of the Cult of the Dragon, a group that assists undead dragons in conquering all of Faerun.
Borghin shook his head in disbelief, “That’s got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!”
------------------------------------------
Still more to come…
-------------------------------------------
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Session 6, Part 2: Failure...
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Holden found the trail left by the cultists easy to track and the group arrived at a set of ruins that appeared to be more of a dumping ground for large melted stones rather then the remains of a structure.
In the center of rocks, which were arranged in a fashion that indicated this must have been a tower at some point in time, was a dark stairwell. Holden, taking point as usual, led the party down the stairs and stopped when he came to a dark black curtain at the bottom. He carefully inspected the canvas like material.
On the other side the cultists watched with stifled laughter. Hands could be seen reaching around through the black curtain, which kept the light from their chamber from catching the attention of anyone who should wander by. They looked at each other and drew their bows while quickly counting their numbers to make sure that they were all there. Then they opened fire upon the moving curtain.
Holden was taken by surprise as a handful of arrows pelted into the curtain. He sustained only a few scratches, but he was less then pleased when he found another volley coming his way before he could react.
Bursting through the curtain, the party found themselves in the sleeping quarters for a large number of cultists. Dropping their bows, the cultists rushed forward to engage the emerging party members. Holden cut through rows of opponents, and managed to mark himself as the biggest threat. He found that the remaining cultists were flanking him from all angles.
Soon the battle turned in the favor of the heroes after Holden tumbled around the room managing to shake his pursuers. The final standing cultist took off through the far door and began running for the stairs when Drexel pulled out his wand and shouted, “Gal-Cart!”
Magic missiles flew forward and dropped the injured sentry before he could even reach the first step. Ziona used this time to heal Holden, who had sustained a large number of wounds. In fact it took several minutes for Ziona to fully heal Holden. During that time, Borghin, Drexel, and Spiderfang stood waiting, rushing with adrenaline, to see if anyone else would come and challenge the party.
The stairs went down one flight to a small stoop and then turned back the other way so they couldn’t see what was on the floor below. Moments later they heard someone running up the stairs. A man dressed in studded leather stopped at the stoop, wide-eyed as one of Drexel’s spells and Borghin’s well-placed crossbow bolt caused him to fall dead in mid-step.
Spiderfang didn’t even listen to Drexel and Borghin as they called for him to wait. After the investigating cultist fell, Spiderfang ran past his teammates and down the stairs. His new outlook on life was not to care about what would happen to him. How much worse could things be after you’ve lost your hand as a fighting monk?
As he reached the bottom, he found that the remaining cultists were prepared for him. They had heard the noises above. Several hid in the shadows, while the others merely stood at the ready. Across the far end of the room stood a wizard with two personal guards. Near the bottom of the stairs was a wall of chains and shackles, with a ragged looking air genasi laid upon the floor in poor condition.
Spiderfang focused on the wizard and started to charge only to find himself surrounded by four rougish fighters, and two other cultists in half-plate. Taken by surprise, he was dealt many deep wounds. He called out in immense pain, but he found that he was still standing.
He knew his friends were right behind him, but before they could transcend the stairs Tansooth saw the wizard cast a spell and four magic missiles shot forth. Spiderfang closed his eyes and whispered, “I have failed you master.”
At that moment Tansooth, the last known Spiderfang, fell dead.
------------------------------------------
Still more to come…
-------------------------------------------
Session 6, Part 2: Failure...
-------------------------------------------
Holden found the trail left by the cultists easy to track and the group arrived at a set of ruins that appeared to be more of a dumping ground for large melted stones rather then the remains of a structure.
In the center of rocks, which were arranged in a fashion that indicated this must have been a tower at some point in time, was a dark stairwell. Holden, taking point as usual, led the party down the stairs and stopped when he came to a dark black curtain at the bottom. He carefully inspected the canvas like material.
On the other side the cultists watched with stifled laughter. Hands could be seen reaching around through the black curtain, which kept the light from their chamber from catching the attention of anyone who should wander by. They looked at each other and drew their bows while quickly counting their numbers to make sure that they were all there. Then they opened fire upon the moving curtain.
Holden was taken by surprise as a handful of arrows pelted into the curtain. He sustained only a few scratches, but he was less then pleased when he found another volley coming his way before he could react.
Bursting through the curtain, the party found themselves in the sleeping quarters for a large number of cultists. Dropping their bows, the cultists rushed forward to engage the emerging party members. Holden cut through rows of opponents, and managed to mark himself as the biggest threat. He found that the remaining cultists were flanking him from all angles.
Soon the battle turned in the favor of the heroes after Holden tumbled around the room managing to shake his pursuers. The final standing cultist took off through the far door and began running for the stairs when Drexel pulled out his wand and shouted, “Gal-Cart!”
Magic missiles flew forward and dropped the injured sentry before he could even reach the first step. Ziona used this time to heal Holden, who had sustained a large number of wounds. In fact it took several minutes for Ziona to fully heal Holden. During that time, Borghin, Drexel, and Spiderfang stood waiting, rushing with adrenaline, to see if anyone else would come and challenge the party.
The stairs went down one flight to a small stoop and then turned back the other way so they couldn’t see what was on the floor below. Moments later they heard someone running up the stairs. A man dressed in studded leather stopped at the stoop, wide-eyed as one of Drexel’s spells and Borghin’s well-placed crossbow bolt caused him to fall dead in mid-step.
Spiderfang didn’t even listen to Drexel and Borghin as they called for him to wait. After the investigating cultist fell, Spiderfang ran past his teammates and down the stairs. His new outlook on life was not to care about what would happen to him. How much worse could things be after you’ve lost your hand as a fighting monk?
As he reached the bottom, he found that the remaining cultists were prepared for him. They had heard the noises above. Several hid in the shadows, while the others merely stood at the ready. Across the far end of the room stood a wizard with two personal guards. Near the bottom of the stairs was a wall of chains and shackles, with a ragged looking air genasi laid upon the floor in poor condition.
Spiderfang focused on the wizard and started to charge only to find himself surrounded by four rougish fighters, and two other cultists in half-plate. Taken by surprise, he was dealt many deep wounds. He called out in immense pain, but he found that he was still standing.
He knew his friends were right behind him, but before they could transcend the stairs Tansooth saw the wizard cast a spell and four magic missiles shot forth. Spiderfang closed his eyes and whispered, “I have failed you master.”
At that moment Tansooth, the last known Spiderfang, fell dead.
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Still more to come…
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