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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 6211811" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>ADVENTURE 74: AMBROSIA RED</strong></p><p></p><p>PC Roster: <p style="margin-left: 20px">Akari, tiefling paladin</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Cal Trop, human cleric of Kord</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Delphyne Babelberi, human witch (wizard)</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Galrich Slayer, half-orc barbarian</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Rale Bodkin, human rogue</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Thunderwolf, human fighter</p><p></p><p>NPC Roster: <p style="margin-left: 20px">Aerik Battershield, dwarven fighter/dwarven defender</p><p></p><p>Before I get into the story this time, I should point out one irregularity: when I told the group that they'd be starting out in the Pit-Fight, with Cal taking on an obnoxious challenger in the Pit, everyone decided which PC they'd be running through the adventure (like normal), but Dan not only set down Cal on the map entering the Pit-Fight tavern but also placed Rale in among the crowd watching the action, figuring (quite rightly) that there'd be a pretty high likelihood that the rogue would also be there. So, unlike our normal sessions, Dan ran both of his PCs through the majority of this adventure.</p><p></p><p>In Dan's defense, I had told everyone that we'd start the session's action with Cal fighting in the Pit-Fight, and that the tavern was where they'd pick up their plot hook for this adventure, so Dan had no idea that once again I had blatantly lied to my group, and that the adventure itself would be taking place there in the tavern. Serves me right for trying to lure the group into complacency; I ended up with an extra PC in the adventure for my efforts.</p><p></p><p>Oh, and Joey had asked me during an earlier session why everyone else had gotten a prophecy but not his PC, Thunderwolf. I reminded him that Pinwhistle had given everyone their prophecies in an adventure shortly before Thunderwolf joined the group, but that if he wanted I'd whip him up a prophecy of his own in a future adventure. This is where I made good on that promise.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>It didn't take long for the patrons of the Pit-Fight to recognize the cleric of Kord as he and a small group of his adventuring partners entered the tavern. "Cal!" they cried, and "Cal's here!" they called to their friends in the back of the tavern. The muscular cleric was a frequent competitor in the various pit-fights that gave the tavern its name, and Cal was a favorite of the group: not only because he was a famous adventurer who nonetheless opted to spend his time (and gold!) in a ramshackle bar on the edge of the poorest section of the city, but also because, as an adventurer, he was often away for days or weeks at a time, allowing the title to pass on to others in his absence.</p><p></p><p>"You gotta take care of that Firefists clown for us," grumbled <strong>Belligrose</strong>, the owner, bartender, and head bouncer of the tavern as he passed a free mug of ale to the tavern's most famous patron. "He's been beating everybody who climbs into the Pit with him, and he's been pretty damn obnoxious about it, too. Thinks he's better than us what live here, too, the bum! The pot's up to 100 gold for anyone who can take him down, and I know you can take the wind out of his sails, Cal." That statement started up a round of fans cheering Cal's name over and over again, and they practically dragged him over to the Pit. Galrich, meanwhile, sidled up to the bar and bought his first mug of ale for the night; Aerik stood next to his liege but opted not to drink, himself - not that he couldn't use a drink, but the vintages available in the tavern weren't up to his dwarven standards, and he wanted to keep an eye out to ensure nobody tried anything against the half-orc who would one day ascend to the throne of Kordovia.</p><p></p><p>Akari was scanning the crowd as well, but he was using his finely-honed senses to scan for auras of evil. This being the seedy part of Greyhawk City, he did pick up on a handful of patrons of a somewhat evil bent, but he wasn't worried about the low-level evil in the hearts of a scattered group of bar-dwellers; he was looking out for the higher levels of evil that emanated in full force from fiends like his own ancestor, Grottlepox. Seeing nothing even remotely near that strength of evil, he wandered behind Cal's wake, positioning himself so he could get a good view of the upcoming bout. Delphyne followed suit.</p><p></p><p>Thunderwolf was in the midst of doing the same, until an old crone grabbed him by the arm and swung him around to face her. She was easily 70 years of age if not older, and wore filthy rags in multiple layers. "She comes," the old woman intoned. "Soon she comes, following the beckoning finger, responding to the voiced call, seeking to balance the damaged scales, arriving to take Xanthros, and to take the blood of Xanthros!" Then, her dire predictions voiced, she released Thunderwolf's sleeve and wandered over to the bar, where Belligrose passed her over a hunk of day-old bread.</p><p></p><p>The young fighter was unsure of what to make of the old woman, and asked the nearest patron about her, a young man who was busy cheering on Cal's arrival. "Her? That's <strong>Old Abby</strong>," the reveler said above the chanting of the crowd. "She's harmless. Lives in the streets, as far as anybody knows. She's a bit of a wise-woman, though there are those who say she's just a nutter." Thunderwolf gave the old lady a final look, but she was busy biting into her hardened bread and paid him no attention.</p><p></p><p>Cal peeked down into the Pit as he stripped off his traveling cloak, his shirt, and removed his rings and other jewelry, as was required of those entering the combat arena. This was to be a standard bare-knuckles fight, to a knockout or a submission. His opponent, <strong>Prescott Flamefists</strong>, was busy studiously jabbing the area directly in front of him, oblivious to all but his own practiced punches, not even bothering to look up as Cal climbed down the rope ladder and into the Pit. The cleric could see a series of flame tattoos gracing Prescott's hands and lower arms, no doubt the reason for his odd nomenclature.</p><p></p><p>"Let's make this interesting," Cal suggested. "The loser of this match has to buy drinks for the winner for a month." Prescott didn't bother stopping his air-sparring, but one side of his mouth curled up in a self-satisfied sneer and he replied, "Deal." Then a whistle was blown from above, the signal for the match to begin, and the crowd's cheers became even louder, as nearly everyone spurred their local cleric to victory.</p><p></p><p>Cal approached warily, his fists at the ready, and Prescott danced back and forth as he took a few steps forward, but it seemed clear that he was waiting for Cal to make the first move. The two circled each other, looking for an opening.</p><p></p><p>Up above, the screams of the crowd took a slightly different pitch - at least, over by the tavern's door they did, where a cloaked figure of Death itself had suddenly manifested. The skeletal being carried a scythe and pointed a bony finger straight ahead, slowly moving his arm and his gaze across the crowd. Those in the immediate vicinity scrambled away from the Grim Reaper, but down in the Pit Cal noticed nothing different. As he and Prescott circled each other, Cal suddenly recognized a sort of mental buzzing inside his head - the kind he associated with a spellcasting attempt that had failed. His eyes had been on Prescott the whole time, and he was fairly sure that his opponent wouldn't have been able to pull off any spellcasting without Cal's notice.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, mist had suddenly started spilling down from the tavern's ceiling in thin columns, rather like nebulous stalactites. As they hit the floor they altered shape, solidifying into humanoid figures. Each was dressed in the clothing of the upper classes, and invariably each wore a high-collared cape, black on the outside with red lining. They looked like nothing so much as people dressed up in comically stereotypical vampire garb - and their speech even accentuated the look, for the vampire spawn did their best to give the appearance of world-weary nightwalkers. "Now we must slake our eternal thirst," one said to himself as he bore his hypnotic gaze onto a nearby waitress. "We, who forever walk in darkness," brooded one of his nearby companions.</p><p></p><p>Akari's inherent sense of evil detection suddenly lit up, for the undead who had suddenly dropped at various points throughout the tavern were definitely evil, their auras burning much brighter in his sight than those of a few of the patrons. As he approached the nearest foe, <em>Hoardmaster</em> ready in his hand, he heard his target's best attempt at a long-suffering tone - "Feed we now on the human chattel before us, to quench the undying thirst tormenting us throughout the ages" - and realized with disgust he wasn't just up against vampires, he was up against <em>pretentious</em> vampires!</p><p></p><p><em>Hoardmaster</em> cut through the vampire's neck in a single blow, and he exploded back into a fine mist.</p><p></p><p>Thunderwolf shot several arrows into another of these vampire spawn, while over at the bar Galrich swung his greataxe into the back of another (but not before swigging down the rest of his tankard of ale). Aerik scuttled over to follow his liege, dwarven waraxe swinging to take out any vampire within range. Delphyne stepped back against the wall, took a good look at the possible targets, and then let fly with a <em>chain lightning</em> spell that hit a vampire directly across the top of the Pit and then arced out to hit another four of the undead. They cried out in surprise and pain, their voices turning immediately from world-weary immortals to those of frightened teenagers.</p><p></p><p>However, of the nine vampire spawn in the tavern, some of them had been doing fairly well for themselves. One, over in the corner, had captured Rale in a gaze of domination and made him into his obedient slave. Another did the same to Galrich almost immediately after locking eyes with the burly barbarian; the half-orc had a long history of being unable to fend off attacks against his mind. Fortunately, Delphyne saw what was transpiring over by Galrich and Aerik and cast a <em>magic circle against evil</em> spell upon herself, then maneuvered through the panicked crowd to encompass Galrich within her radius of protection. The vampire who had dominated the half-orc barbarian got a sudden surprise when his willing victim, who had been standing obediently with his neck at the ready, suddenly snapped out of it and sent a powerful fist crashing into the pompous undead's face.</p><p></p><p>Down in the Pit, Prescott had tired of the preliminaries - actually, he had tired of his invisible associate, <strong>Gothika</strong>, trying and failing multiple times to successfully cast <em>mind fog</em> and <em>feeblemind</em> spells upon the cleric of Kord to weaken him up - and decided for a more direct approach. He closed the distance between them and lashed out with a fist now covered in the illusion of flames, striking Cal and draining a small portion of his life energy. Cal had experienced this type of draining before, and suddenly realized he was bare-knuckle fighting an undead monstrosity of some sort, in a pit some 20 feet below the tavern's floor above him, without his holy symbol, his pouch of spell components, or even his Guild ring as a means of escape. By this point, the screams above were no longer those of enthusiasts cheering on their favorite in the Pit, but rather the frightened cries of bar patrons suddeny plunged into a world of chaos.</p><p></p><p>Cal cast a <em>holy word</em> spell, one which required naught but a voiced prayer from the cleric's lips, and the spell rose up from the Pit and blasted through a good section of the tavern. All but one of the vampire spawn disintegrated into mist at once, the sole survivor being the one who had dominated Galrich but was now doing his level best to escape from the rage-fueled barbarian; his frantic attempts at flight had carried him out of the range of Cal's spell. Prescott Flamefists found himself not only deaf and blind but paralyzed as well; Cal couldn't see it, but Gothika, the vampire sorceress perched invisibly on the side of one of the Pit's wall about halfway up, was also deafened and blinded by the spell. However, Cal was an adventurer, used to fighting his battles far from innocent bystanders; he had failed to account for the inherent moral natures of the bar taverns above, and some of them, having been judged by the spell Cal had unleashed, felt their hearts stopping in their chests. They died, unwitting victims to their own evil natures, no matter how much less brightly their auras emanated evil than the undead who had been Cal's only intended targets.</p><p></p><p>Cal called up to those above, specifically Aerik, who had been holding the cleric's discarded clothing and other possessions, to toss him down his gear. The dwarf obliged, Cal's gear falling with a plop onto the Pit floor, over in the corner.</p><p></p><p>But by that time, the second wave of vampire spawn entered the scene. Mist slid under the door behind the bar that led to a storage area and spilled into the tavern, coalescing into vampire spawn dressed in the same manner as those of the first wave. Still more mist flowed in from outside, sliding soundlessly past the illusion of the Grim Reaper that barred the doorway, still pointing a bony finger back and forth across the crowd as if seeking the target it would slay, its only true purpose keeping the panicked tavern-goers from using the sole exit from the Pit-Fight. All in all, eleven new vampire spawn entered the Pit-Fight and headed for the mortals nearest them, eager to sample their blood.</p><p></p><p>Down in the Pit there were new arrivals as well. Seeing that Prescott had been paralyzed by his <em>holy word</em> spell, Cal reached down to gather up his holy symbol and pouch of spell components when a wave of rats came swarming from under one of the two doors along the bottom of the Pit. Almost immediately, Cal's gear - not to mention the lower half of his own body - was covered in biting, squeaking, disease-laden rodents. Akari looked down into the Pit and decided to send some help Cal's way. With a mental call, the paladin reached out across the planes and summoned forth his white-feathered griffon, Tsukitora, from the Beastlands. The creature manifested at the bottom of the Pit, where it immediately began clawing and biting at the numerous rodents.</p><p></p><p>In an effort to escape the rats, Cal opened the door and found even more rats gathered there, rushing to follow their counterparts into the Pit. Standing among them were two figures: an elderly man leaning upon a cane, and a younger man in dark-colored plate mail, with an evil-looking greatsword in his hand. Cal had never met the second individual, but his description matched that of Jathrig Blakesnake, the Dark Reaver, who had not too long ago ambushed a group of Cal's teammates in a dark alley as an attempt to get to the Kord-blooded cleric. The other fellow was a stranger to Cal; he was <strong>Lord Pendrake</strong>, who fancied himself the Lord of Vampires in Greyhawk City - and who was directly responsible for the foppish vampire spawn bothering the tavern patrons up above.</p><p></p><p>Just as quickly as he had opened it, Cal slammed the door shut and scrambled back to fetch his holy symbol, currently buried under several layers of rats, who were scrambling over each other to bite at the celestial griffon. The double door didn't stay closed for long, for the two vampires pulled them open and the Dark Reaver rushed into the room; Lord Pendrake opted out of hand-to-hand combat and attempted - fruitlessly - to bend Cal to his will through the force of his dominating stare.</p><p></p><p>Akari, seeing the new combatants in the Pit, first called forth the power of Hieroneous through his holy symbol, and slew a large number of the remaining vampire spawn in a turning attempt that blasted them into nothingness. Then he leapt over the railing and allowed his <em>boots of levitation</em> to slow his descent; he landed near the Dark Reaver and started hacking away with <em>Hoardmaster</em>. Galrich and Aerik, having between them slain a few of the newly-arrived vampire spawn and watched as Delphyne cut down a handful of them with another <em>chain lightning</em> spell, opted to follow Akari to where the real action was and leapt the full 20 feet into the Pit. They landed among a swarm of rats. Then the doors behind them - a twin to the pair from which the Dark Reaver had entered - opened, revealing yet even more rats and an awakened vampiric dire wolf, <strong>Bloodmuzzle</strong>. Galrich turned to face this new attacker, and Aerik followed suit.</p><p></p><p>It had become ridiculously crowded in the 20-foot square of the Pit, with four Wing Three adventurers and a celestial griffon having it out with the Dark Reaver and swarms upon swarms of living rats, while Bloodmuzzle and Lord Pendrake attacked through the open doorways at either end of the combat arena and Prescott Flamefists stood motionless and paralyzed in the midst of the melee. In the tavern above, Rale, Delphyne, and Thunderwolf had pretty much taken care of the last of the second wave of vampire spawn, and Delphyne put her <em>wand of magic missiles</em> to good use against Lord Pendrake, whose figure she could see from the Pit's railing across the way.</p><p></p><p>The first of the vampires in the Pit to be cut down was the Dark Reaver, after Akari channeled his full complement of smite evil attacks against his undead foe. Jathrig's body turned to mist, and immediately started floating back to his nearest coffin, hidden away under the sewers of the Styes. However, Delphyne had observed his demise, and rushed around the upper edge of the Pit to intercept his gaseous form, her <em>amulet of the mists</em> held in one hand. Once in position, she activated the power of the amulet, and the Dark Reaver's gaseous remains were absorbed into the magic item, to be held there until released by the young witch.</p><p></p><p>Cal called forth the words to a mass healing spell that cured his companions while simultaneously damaging the undead in the vicinity. Akari took the opportunity to leap upon the drow floatdisk he used as a shield; having spotted an unusual anomaly on the Pit's wall - a strong aura of evil in a spot where nobody seemed to be - he hovered up to the area and attacked Gothika, whose blindness and deafness was just starting to wear off while her <em>greater invisibility</em> spell still cloaked her form from view. While he missed with his attack, the vampire sorceress realized her cover was blown, and she voluntarily turned to mist to return to her hidden coffin, the better to rest up and attack the Kord-blooded cleric another day.</p><p></p><p>It didn't take long for Lord Pendrake to reach the same conclusion. The plan had been a simple one, and should have worked: lure Cal into the Pit with Prescott Flamefists, where, without his weapons, armor, holy symbol of Kord, or spell components, he should have been easy prey. He'd have been <em>feebleminded</em> while Lord Pendrake's ridiculous retinue of vampire spawn drew everyone's attention elsewhere, then whisked away to the Pendrake estate, where the five vampires - the most powerful such undead in the entire city of Greyhawk - would take turns drinking the blood of a god. They'd be careful not to drink Cal dry, ensuring many years of such sustenance.</p><p></p><p>But now, the plan seemed untenable. Cal had regained his holy symbol and spell components, knew exactly what he was facing, and had half a dozen powerful allies with him. Lord Pendrake called to Bloodmuzzle to return to their lair, then discorporated into a cloud of nearly invisible mist. The vampiric dire wolf soon followed suit, leaving only the paralyzed Prescott Flamefists behind.</p><p></p><p>Cal almost immediately hatched a plan. He dumped Flamefists over his shoulder and climbed the rope ladder back out of the Pit, the others following suit one way or the other. Then, explaining he could cast a <em>wind walk</em> spell on six others, he had Galrich cut the immobilized Flamefists down with his greatsword. As the vampire exploded into mist, which then drifted away in the same direction as the other vampires, Cal cast his spell upon himself, Akari, Delphyne, Galrich, Aerik, and Thunderwolf. (Rale opted to stay behind and help the remaining tavern patrons injured in the fight, and Akari dismissed Tsukitora back to his celestial realms before Cal cast his spell.) Then the group simply followed the gaseous form of Prescott Flamefists while in cloudy, misty forms themselves. Unable to do anything but head directly to his coffin, the vampire led the heroes to the sewer lair of Jathrig Blacksnake, where the other four vampires had readied spare coffins as well. (Actually, Bloodmuzzle had no coffin, but had a pile of grave dirt spread out in a heap where he lay during the daytime.) Cal dropped the heroes out of the <em>wind walk</em> spell just before the final door to the vampire lair, so they could prepare their buffing spells in readiness for this final fight.</p><p></p><p>Once all of the <em>death wards</em>, <em>stoneskins</em>, and the like had been cast, Galrich kicked open the door and immediately spotted the coffins off to the right, with Bloodmuzzle curled in a heap to the left and one final coffin sitting in the middle of a small "island" in the midst of a pool of acidic-looking liquid at the back of the room. However, of immediate concern were the twin constructs Lord Pendrake had installed to look after the vampires as they rested; these were rune guardians, whose metallic bodies were etched with glowing glyphs of power.</p><p></p><p>Galrich and Aerik rushed forward, blades hacking at the unliving constructs blocking access to the vampires' coffins. Thunderwolf settled himself into a corner and started peppering them with arrows, but the constructs seemed to shrug off the majority of any damage from the heroes' weapons. Then they retaliated, blasting the heroes with a <em>lightning bolt</em> and a <em>cone of cold</em> that together caught everyone in at least one area of effect. Delphyne tried casting <em>dispel magic</em> upon the nearest construct, and managed to temporarily cause its glyphs to darken, but the effect wore off far too soon for her liking.</p><p></p><p>In the meantime, Prescott Flamefists had settled into his coffin and lay there helplessly, but the other vampires had returned voluntarily and were able to revert to solid form. Gothika actually did much better here, fighting for her very existence than trying to surreptitiously cast mind-weakening spells on Cal, and she did a great deal of damage with a well-placed <em>chain lightning</em> spell that caught nearly all of the adventurers in arcs of electricity. Still, it soon became apparent that the vampires were less powerful than their living adversaries, and this was made all the more clear once Cal's <em>mass heal</em> spell cured all of his allies of their previous wounds while slaying Bloodmuzzle outright and dropping Lord Prescott and Gothika down to the bare minimum stamina to even move. The female vampire took to gaseous form and remanifested back at the Dark Reaver's coffin on the island, beating Lord Pendrake to the punch by a mere moment. He too had thoughts of retreat, but he was cut down by Akari's laying on of hands, which flooded his system with healing energy that reduced him to mist. Gothika was reduced to mist by a blast from Delphyne's <em>wand of magic missiles</em>, and she too was forced to return to her coffin. Faced with three helpless vampires in their coffins, Galich took great pleasure in chopping off their heads with his greatsword, permanently destroying them, while the other heroes kept the rune guardians busy. Lord Pendrake had chosen his guardians well, for the mechanical constructs proved to be a pair of very powerful foes, but in the end they too were dealt with permanently.</p><p></p><p>Akari floated over to the Dark Reaver's coffin on his floatdisk to check it out, but no sooner did he fly over the pool of acid than a blobby, greenish creature floated to the top of the liquid and start forming pseudopods with which to strike the paladin. Seeing the enormous size of the arcane ooze protecting Jethrig's coffin, the group unanimously decided that discretion was the better part of valor in this instance, and Akari hightailed it back over to the others, allowing Cal to seal the whole pool section off with a permanent <em>wall of stone</em> spell. With any luck, the arcane ooze would remain trapped behind the wall and cause no trouble to anyone.</p><p></p><p>There wasn't much in the way of treasure among the coffins, merely Lord Pendrake's masterwork cane. The only vampire not yet permanently dealt with was the Dark Reaver, currently trapped in Delphyne's amulet, and the group planned to release him into an open field at noon the next day, allowing the sun to take care of him for good. In the meantime, Cal insisted on returning to the Pit-Fight, to gather up the bodies of the bar patrons he had inadvertently killed with his <em>holy word</em> spell. He'd learned a valuable - and expensive, since he was determined to use <em>raise dead</em> spells to return them to life in the days to come - lesson about fighting amongst bystanders, innocent or otherwise. Even Akari, who knew for a fact that those slain had had the stain of evil on their souls, agreed that this was the right thing to do, for the patrons could always be swayed to renounce their evil ways and walk the path of righteousness in time, but only if they lived to see the errors of their ways.</p><p></p><p>While they were there, Delphyne took the opportunity to cast a <em>dispel magic</em> spell on the <em>permanent image</em> of the Grim Reaper, who still stood his ground pointing a bony finger at potential victims who were no longer even there. Belligrose was glad to see the last of it.</p><p></p><p>Galrich took the opportunity, while Cal and the others were seeing to the proper retrieval of the corpses of those slain by his <em>holy word</em> spell, to order his second mug of ale of the night. It tasted all the better by dint of being free, Belligrose commenting that it was the least he could do. Not cognizant of the inner workings of magic, he had no idea that the patrons Cal was working so diligently to prepare for a return to life via <em>raise dead</em> spells had been slain by Cal himself; he had just assumed the vampires had caused their deaths, and Cal's efforts only made him that much more heroic in the bartender's eyes.</p><p></p><p>"A pretty good evening after all," the half-orc muttered to himself, swigging his free ale. Aerik couldn't disagree.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 6211811, member: 508"] [b]ADVENTURE 74: AMBROSIA RED[/b] PC Roster: [INDENT]Akari, tiefling paladin Cal Trop, human cleric of Kord Delphyne Babelberi, human witch (wizard) Galrich Slayer, half-orc barbarian Rale Bodkin, human rogue Thunderwolf, human fighter[/INDENT] NPC Roster: [INDENT]Aerik Battershield, dwarven fighter/dwarven defender[/INDENT] Before I get into the story this time, I should point out one irregularity: when I told the group that they'd be starting out in the Pit-Fight, with Cal taking on an obnoxious challenger in the Pit, everyone decided which PC they'd be running through the adventure (like normal), but Dan not only set down Cal on the map entering the Pit-Fight tavern but also placed Rale in among the crowd watching the action, figuring (quite rightly) that there'd be a pretty high likelihood that the rogue would also be there. So, unlike our normal sessions, Dan ran both of his PCs through the majority of this adventure. In Dan's defense, I had told everyone that we'd start the session's action with Cal fighting in the Pit-Fight, and that the tavern was where they'd pick up their plot hook for this adventure, so Dan had no idea that once again I had blatantly lied to my group, and that the adventure itself would be taking place there in the tavern. Serves me right for trying to lure the group into complacency; I ended up with an extra PC in the adventure for my efforts. Oh, and Joey had asked me during an earlier session why everyone else had gotten a prophecy but not his PC, Thunderwolf. I reminded him that Pinwhistle had given everyone their prophecies in an adventure shortly before Thunderwolf joined the group, but that if he wanted I'd whip him up a prophecy of his own in a future adventure. This is where I made good on that promise. - - - It didn't take long for the patrons of the Pit-Fight to recognize the cleric of Kord as he and a small group of his adventuring partners entered the tavern. "Cal!" they cried, and "Cal's here!" they called to their friends in the back of the tavern. The muscular cleric was a frequent competitor in the various pit-fights that gave the tavern its name, and Cal was a favorite of the group: not only because he was a famous adventurer who nonetheless opted to spend his time (and gold!) in a ramshackle bar on the edge of the poorest section of the city, but also because, as an adventurer, he was often away for days or weeks at a time, allowing the title to pass on to others in his absence. "You gotta take care of that Firefists clown for us," grumbled [b]Belligrose[/b], the owner, bartender, and head bouncer of the tavern as he passed a free mug of ale to the tavern's most famous patron. "He's been beating everybody who climbs into the Pit with him, and he's been pretty damn obnoxious about it, too. Thinks he's better than us what live here, too, the bum! The pot's up to 100 gold for anyone who can take him down, and I know you can take the wind out of his sails, Cal." That statement started up a round of fans cheering Cal's name over and over again, and they practically dragged him over to the Pit. Galrich, meanwhile, sidled up to the bar and bought his first mug of ale for the night; Aerik stood next to his liege but opted not to drink, himself - not that he couldn't use a drink, but the vintages available in the tavern weren't up to his dwarven standards, and he wanted to keep an eye out to ensure nobody tried anything against the half-orc who would one day ascend to the throne of Kordovia. Akari was scanning the crowd as well, but he was using his finely-honed senses to scan for auras of evil. This being the seedy part of Greyhawk City, he did pick up on a handful of patrons of a somewhat evil bent, but he wasn't worried about the low-level evil in the hearts of a scattered group of bar-dwellers; he was looking out for the higher levels of evil that emanated in full force from fiends like his own ancestor, Grottlepox. Seeing nothing even remotely near that strength of evil, he wandered behind Cal's wake, positioning himself so he could get a good view of the upcoming bout. Delphyne followed suit. Thunderwolf was in the midst of doing the same, until an old crone grabbed him by the arm and swung him around to face her. She was easily 70 years of age if not older, and wore filthy rags in multiple layers. "She comes," the old woman intoned. "Soon she comes, following the beckoning finger, responding to the voiced call, seeking to balance the damaged scales, arriving to take Xanthros, and to take the blood of Xanthros!" Then, her dire predictions voiced, she released Thunderwolf's sleeve and wandered over to the bar, where Belligrose passed her over a hunk of day-old bread. The young fighter was unsure of what to make of the old woman, and asked the nearest patron about her, a young man who was busy cheering on Cal's arrival. "Her? That's [b]Old Abby[/b]," the reveler said above the chanting of the crowd. "She's harmless. Lives in the streets, as far as anybody knows. She's a bit of a wise-woman, though there are those who say she's just a nutter." Thunderwolf gave the old lady a final look, but she was busy biting into her hardened bread and paid him no attention. Cal peeked down into the Pit as he stripped off his traveling cloak, his shirt, and removed his rings and other jewelry, as was required of those entering the combat arena. This was to be a standard bare-knuckles fight, to a knockout or a submission. His opponent, [b]Prescott Flamefists[/b], was busy studiously jabbing the area directly in front of him, oblivious to all but his own practiced punches, not even bothering to look up as Cal climbed down the rope ladder and into the Pit. The cleric could see a series of flame tattoos gracing Prescott's hands and lower arms, no doubt the reason for his odd nomenclature. "Let's make this interesting," Cal suggested. "The loser of this match has to buy drinks for the winner for a month." Prescott didn't bother stopping his air-sparring, but one side of his mouth curled up in a self-satisfied sneer and he replied, "Deal." Then a whistle was blown from above, the signal for the match to begin, and the crowd's cheers became even louder, as nearly everyone spurred their local cleric to victory. Cal approached warily, his fists at the ready, and Prescott danced back and forth as he took a few steps forward, but it seemed clear that he was waiting for Cal to make the first move. The two circled each other, looking for an opening. Up above, the screams of the crowd took a slightly different pitch - at least, over by the tavern's door they did, where a cloaked figure of Death itself had suddenly manifested. The skeletal being carried a scythe and pointed a bony finger straight ahead, slowly moving his arm and his gaze across the crowd. Those in the immediate vicinity scrambled away from the Grim Reaper, but down in the Pit Cal noticed nothing different. As he and Prescott circled each other, Cal suddenly recognized a sort of mental buzzing inside his head - the kind he associated with a spellcasting attempt that had failed. His eyes had been on Prescott the whole time, and he was fairly sure that his opponent wouldn't have been able to pull off any spellcasting without Cal's notice. Meanwhile, mist had suddenly started spilling down from the tavern's ceiling in thin columns, rather like nebulous stalactites. As they hit the floor they altered shape, solidifying into humanoid figures. Each was dressed in the clothing of the upper classes, and invariably each wore a high-collared cape, black on the outside with red lining. They looked like nothing so much as people dressed up in comically stereotypical vampire garb - and their speech even accentuated the look, for the vampire spawn did their best to give the appearance of world-weary nightwalkers. "Now we must slake our eternal thirst," one said to himself as he bore his hypnotic gaze onto a nearby waitress. "We, who forever walk in darkness," brooded one of his nearby companions. Akari's inherent sense of evil detection suddenly lit up, for the undead who had suddenly dropped at various points throughout the tavern were definitely evil, their auras burning much brighter in his sight than those of a few of the patrons. As he approached the nearest foe, [i]Hoardmaster[/i] ready in his hand, he heard his target's best attempt at a long-suffering tone - "Feed we now on the human chattel before us, to quench the undying thirst tormenting us throughout the ages" - and realized with disgust he wasn't just up against vampires, he was up against [i]pretentious[/i] vampires! [i]Hoardmaster[/i] cut through the vampire's neck in a single blow, and he exploded back into a fine mist. Thunderwolf shot several arrows into another of these vampire spawn, while over at the bar Galrich swung his greataxe into the back of another (but not before swigging down the rest of his tankard of ale). Aerik scuttled over to follow his liege, dwarven waraxe swinging to take out any vampire within range. Delphyne stepped back against the wall, took a good look at the possible targets, and then let fly with a [i]chain lightning[/i] spell that hit a vampire directly across the top of the Pit and then arced out to hit another four of the undead. They cried out in surprise and pain, their voices turning immediately from world-weary immortals to those of frightened teenagers. However, of the nine vampire spawn in the tavern, some of them had been doing fairly well for themselves. One, over in the corner, had captured Rale in a gaze of domination and made him into his obedient slave. Another did the same to Galrich almost immediately after locking eyes with the burly barbarian; the half-orc had a long history of being unable to fend off attacks against his mind. Fortunately, Delphyne saw what was transpiring over by Galrich and Aerik and cast a [i]magic circle against evil[/i] spell upon herself, then maneuvered through the panicked crowd to encompass Galrich within her radius of protection. The vampire who had dominated the half-orc barbarian got a sudden surprise when his willing victim, who had been standing obediently with his neck at the ready, suddenly snapped out of it and sent a powerful fist crashing into the pompous undead's face. Down in the Pit, Prescott had tired of the preliminaries - actually, he had tired of his invisible associate, [b]Gothika[/b], trying and failing multiple times to successfully cast [i]mind fog[/i] and [i]feeblemind[/i] spells upon the cleric of Kord to weaken him up - and decided for a more direct approach. He closed the distance between them and lashed out with a fist now covered in the illusion of flames, striking Cal and draining a small portion of his life energy. Cal had experienced this type of draining before, and suddenly realized he was bare-knuckle fighting an undead monstrosity of some sort, in a pit some 20 feet below the tavern's floor above him, without his holy symbol, his pouch of spell components, or even his Guild ring as a means of escape. By this point, the screams above were no longer those of enthusiasts cheering on their favorite in the Pit, but rather the frightened cries of bar patrons suddeny plunged into a world of chaos. Cal cast a [i]holy word[/i] spell, one which required naught but a voiced prayer from the cleric's lips, and the spell rose up from the Pit and blasted through a good section of the tavern. All but one of the vampire spawn disintegrated into mist at once, the sole survivor being the one who had dominated Galrich but was now doing his level best to escape from the rage-fueled barbarian; his frantic attempts at flight had carried him out of the range of Cal's spell. Prescott Flamefists found himself not only deaf and blind but paralyzed as well; Cal couldn't see it, but Gothika, the vampire sorceress perched invisibly on the side of one of the Pit's wall about halfway up, was also deafened and blinded by the spell. However, Cal was an adventurer, used to fighting his battles far from innocent bystanders; he had failed to account for the inherent moral natures of the bar taverns above, and some of them, having been judged by the spell Cal had unleashed, felt their hearts stopping in their chests. They died, unwitting victims to their own evil natures, no matter how much less brightly their auras emanated evil than the undead who had been Cal's only intended targets. Cal called up to those above, specifically Aerik, who had been holding the cleric's discarded clothing and other possessions, to toss him down his gear. The dwarf obliged, Cal's gear falling with a plop onto the Pit floor, over in the corner. But by that time, the second wave of vampire spawn entered the scene. Mist slid under the door behind the bar that led to a storage area and spilled into the tavern, coalescing into vampire spawn dressed in the same manner as those of the first wave. Still more mist flowed in from outside, sliding soundlessly past the illusion of the Grim Reaper that barred the doorway, still pointing a bony finger back and forth across the crowd as if seeking the target it would slay, its only true purpose keeping the panicked tavern-goers from using the sole exit from the Pit-Fight. All in all, eleven new vampire spawn entered the Pit-Fight and headed for the mortals nearest them, eager to sample their blood. Down in the Pit there were new arrivals as well. Seeing that Prescott had been paralyzed by his [i]holy word[/i] spell, Cal reached down to gather up his holy symbol and pouch of spell components when a wave of rats came swarming from under one of the two doors along the bottom of the Pit. Almost immediately, Cal's gear - not to mention the lower half of his own body - was covered in biting, squeaking, disease-laden rodents. Akari looked down into the Pit and decided to send some help Cal's way. With a mental call, the paladin reached out across the planes and summoned forth his white-feathered griffon, Tsukitora, from the Beastlands. The creature manifested at the bottom of the Pit, where it immediately began clawing and biting at the numerous rodents. In an effort to escape the rats, Cal opened the door and found even more rats gathered there, rushing to follow their counterparts into the Pit. Standing among them were two figures: an elderly man leaning upon a cane, and a younger man in dark-colored plate mail, with an evil-looking greatsword in his hand. Cal had never met the second individual, but his description matched that of Jathrig Blakesnake, the Dark Reaver, who had not too long ago ambushed a group of Cal's teammates in a dark alley as an attempt to get to the Kord-blooded cleric. The other fellow was a stranger to Cal; he was [b]Lord Pendrake[/b], who fancied himself the Lord of Vampires in Greyhawk City - and who was directly responsible for the foppish vampire spawn bothering the tavern patrons up above. Just as quickly as he had opened it, Cal slammed the door shut and scrambled back to fetch his holy symbol, currently buried under several layers of rats, who were scrambling over each other to bite at the celestial griffon. The double door didn't stay closed for long, for the two vampires pulled them open and the Dark Reaver rushed into the room; Lord Pendrake opted out of hand-to-hand combat and attempted - fruitlessly - to bend Cal to his will through the force of his dominating stare. Akari, seeing the new combatants in the Pit, first called forth the power of Hieroneous through his holy symbol, and slew a large number of the remaining vampire spawn in a turning attempt that blasted them into nothingness. Then he leapt over the railing and allowed his [i]boots of levitation[/i] to slow his descent; he landed near the Dark Reaver and started hacking away with [i]Hoardmaster[/i]. Galrich and Aerik, having between them slain a few of the newly-arrived vampire spawn and watched as Delphyne cut down a handful of them with another [i]chain lightning[/i] spell, opted to follow Akari to where the real action was and leapt the full 20 feet into the Pit. They landed among a swarm of rats. Then the doors behind them - a twin to the pair from which the Dark Reaver had entered - opened, revealing yet even more rats and an awakened vampiric dire wolf, [b]Bloodmuzzle[/b]. Galrich turned to face this new attacker, and Aerik followed suit. It had become ridiculously crowded in the 20-foot square of the Pit, with four Wing Three adventurers and a celestial griffon having it out with the Dark Reaver and swarms upon swarms of living rats, while Bloodmuzzle and Lord Pendrake attacked through the open doorways at either end of the combat arena and Prescott Flamefists stood motionless and paralyzed in the midst of the melee. In the tavern above, Rale, Delphyne, and Thunderwolf had pretty much taken care of the last of the second wave of vampire spawn, and Delphyne put her [i]wand of magic missiles[/i] to good use against Lord Pendrake, whose figure she could see from the Pit's railing across the way. The first of the vampires in the Pit to be cut down was the Dark Reaver, after Akari channeled his full complement of smite evil attacks against his undead foe. Jathrig's body turned to mist, and immediately started floating back to his nearest coffin, hidden away under the sewers of the Styes. However, Delphyne had observed his demise, and rushed around the upper edge of the Pit to intercept his gaseous form, her [i]amulet of the mists[/i] held in one hand. Once in position, she activated the power of the amulet, and the Dark Reaver's gaseous remains were absorbed into the magic item, to be held there until released by the young witch. Cal called forth the words to a mass healing spell that cured his companions while simultaneously damaging the undead in the vicinity. Akari took the opportunity to leap upon the drow floatdisk he used as a shield; having spotted an unusual anomaly on the Pit's wall - a strong aura of evil in a spot where nobody seemed to be - he hovered up to the area and attacked Gothika, whose blindness and deafness was just starting to wear off while her [i]greater invisibility[/i] spell still cloaked her form from view. While he missed with his attack, the vampire sorceress realized her cover was blown, and she voluntarily turned to mist to return to her hidden coffin, the better to rest up and attack the Kord-blooded cleric another day. It didn't take long for Lord Pendrake to reach the same conclusion. The plan had been a simple one, and should have worked: lure Cal into the Pit with Prescott Flamefists, where, without his weapons, armor, holy symbol of Kord, or spell components, he should have been easy prey. He'd have been [i]feebleminded[/i] while Lord Pendrake's ridiculous retinue of vampire spawn drew everyone's attention elsewhere, then whisked away to the Pendrake estate, where the five vampires - the most powerful such undead in the entire city of Greyhawk - would take turns drinking the blood of a god. They'd be careful not to drink Cal dry, ensuring many years of such sustenance. But now, the plan seemed untenable. Cal had regained his holy symbol and spell components, knew exactly what he was facing, and had half a dozen powerful allies with him. Lord Pendrake called to Bloodmuzzle to return to their lair, then discorporated into a cloud of nearly invisible mist. The vampiric dire wolf soon followed suit, leaving only the paralyzed Prescott Flamefists behind. Cal almost immediately hatched a plan. He dumped Flamefists over his shoulder and climbed the rope ladder back out of the Pit, the others following suit one way or the other. Then, explaining he could cast a [i]wind walk[/i] spell on six others, he had Galrich cut the immobilized Flamefists down with his greatsword. As the vampire exploded into mist, which then drifted away in the same direction as the other vampires, Cal cast his spell upon himself, Akari, Delphyne, Galrich, Aerik, and Thunderwolf. (Rale opted to stay behind and help the remaining tavern patrons injured in the fight, and Akari dismissed Tsukitora back to his celestial realms before Cal cast his spell.) Then the group simply followed the gaseous form of Prescott Flamefists while in cloudy, misty forms themselves. Unable to do anything but head directly to his coffin, the vampire led the heroes to the sewer lair of Jathrig Blacksnake, where the other four vampires had readied spare coffins as well. (Actually, Bloodmuzzle had no coffin, but had a pile of grave dirt spread out in a heap where he lay during the daytime.) Cal dropped the heroes out of the [i]wind walk[/i] spell just before the final door to the vampire lair, so they could prepare their buffing spells in readiness for this final fight. Once all of the [i]death wards[/i], [i]stoneskins[/i], and the like had been cast, Galrich kicked open the door and immediately spotted the coffins off to the right, with Bloodmuzzle curled in a heap to the left and one final coffin sitting in the middle of a small "island" in the midst of a pool of acidic-looking liquid at the back of the room. However, of immediate concern were the twin constructs Lord Pendrake had installed to look after the vampires as they rested; these were rune guardians, whose metallic bodies were etched with glowing glyphs of power. Galrich and Aerik rushed forward, blades hacking at the unliving constructs blocking access to the vampires' coffins. Thunderwolf settled himself into a corner and started peppering them with arrows, but the constructs seemed to shrug off the majority of any damage from the heroes' weapons. Then they retaliated, blasting the heroes with a [i]lightning bolt[/i] and a [i]cone of cold[/i] that together caught everyone in at least one area of effect. Delphyne tried casting [i]dispel magic[/i] upon the nearest construct, and managed to temporarily cause its glyphs to darken, but the effect wore off far too soon for her liking. In the meantime, Prescott Flamefists had settled into his coffin and lay there helplessly, but the other vampires had returned voluntarily and were able to revert to solid form. Gothika actually did much better here, fighting for her very existence than trying to surreptitiously cast mind-weakening spells on Cal, and she did a great deal of damage with a well-placed [i]chain lightning[/i] spell that caught nearly all of the adventurers in arcs of electricity. Still, it soon became apparent that the vampires were less powerful than their living adversaries, and this was made all the more clear once Cal's [i]mass heal[/i] spell cured all of his allies of their previous wounds while slaying Bloodmuzzle outright and dropping Lord Prescott and Gothika down to the bare minimum stamina to even move. The female vampire took to gaseous form and remanifested back at the Dark Reaver's coffin on the island, beating Lord Pendrake to the punch by a mere moment. He too had thoughts of retreat, but he was cut down by Akari's laying on of hands, which flooded his system with healing energy that reduced him to mist. Gothika was reduced to mist by a blast from Delphyne's [i]wand of magic missiles[/i], and she too was forced to return to her coffin. Faced with three helpless vampires in their coffins, Galich took great pleasure in chopping off their heads with his greatsword, permanently destroying them, while the other heroes kept the rune guardians busy. Lord Pendrake had chosen his guardians well, for the mechanical constructs proved to be a pair of very powerful foes, but in the end they too were dealt with permanently. Akari floated over to the Dark Reaver's coffin on his floatdisk to check it out, but no sooner did he fly over the pool of acid than a blobby, greenish creature floated to the top of the liquid and start forming pseudopods with which to strike the paladin. Seeing the enormous size of the arcane ooze protecting Jethrig's coffin, the group unanimously decided that discretion was the better part of valor in this instance, and Akari hightailed it back over to the others, allowing Cal to seal the whole pool section off with a permanent [i]wall of stone[/i] spell. With any luck, the arcane ooze would remain trapped behind the wall and cause no trouble to anyone. There wasn't much in the way of treasure among the coffins, merely Lord Pendrake's masterwork cane. The only vampire not yet permanently dealt with was the Dark Reaver, currently trapped in Delphyne's amulet, and the group planned to release him into an open field at noon the next day, allowing the sun to take care of him for good. In the meantime, Cal insisted on returning to the Pit-Fight, to gather up the bodies of the bar patrons he had inadvertently killed with his [i]holy word[/i] spell. He'd learned a valuable - and expensive, since he was determined to use [i]raise dead[/i] spells to return them to life in the days to come - lesson about fighting amongst bystanders, innocent or otherwise. Even Akari, who knew for a fact that those slain had had the stain of evil on their souls, agreed that this was the right thing to do, for the patrons could always be swayed to renounce their evil ways and walk the path of righteousness in time, but only if they lived to see the errors of their ways. While they were there, Delphyne took the opportunity to cast a [i]dispel magic[/i] spell on the [i]permanent image[/i] of the Grim Reaper, who still stood his ground pointing a bony finger at potential victims who were no longer even there. Belligrose was glad to see the last of it. Galrich took the opportunity, while Cal and the others were seeing to the proper retrieval of the corpses of those slain by his [i]holy word[/i] spell, to order his second mug of ale of the night. It tasted all the better by dint of being free, Belligrose commenting that it was the least he could do. Not cognizant of the inner workings of magic, he had no idea that the patrons Cal was working so diligently to prepare for a return to life via [i]raise dead[/i] spells had been slain by Cal himself; he had just assumed the vampires had caused their deaths, and Cal's efforts only made him that much more heroic in the bartender's eyes. "A pretty good evening after all," the half-orc muttered to himself, swigging his free ale. Aerik couldn't disagree. [/QUOTE]
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