Wizardru's Story Hour (updated 11/21)

[Zad]

The Crypt of the ShadowTaker - Chapter 7

The Crypt of the ShadowTaker - Chapter 7

OOC Notes:
Exp is 7,835. Yikes.

Loot:
2 +3 huge greataxes
1 +5 psychokinetic burst greataxe
3 +3 mithril chain shirts
10 wands of magic missile, 25 charges, 7th level caster
2 wands of fireball, 25 charges, 6th level caster
2 wands of silence, 20 charges, min caster
1 wand of mirror image, 20 charges, min caster
1 wand of ice storm, 45 charges, min caster
1 wand of blink, 20 charges, min caster
2 wands of ghoul touch, 50 charges
1 wand of levitate, 10 charges, min caster
2 +4 tower shields
+3 large steel shield
ring of invisibility
ring of protection +2
gems worth 29,000gp

This Week’s Adventure:
As the delver cleared up through the rock, I saw the haze of an invisible rider on it’s back. It was a strange creature with angular features and wearing nothing but a simple cloak. I realized then it was a gensai. As I sent this over the mental link, Dravot replied that he could make out a small shadowy bat flitting around the ceiling as well. This ambush just got more worrisome.

One minotaur bellowed and charged, a dull yellow light surrounding him. He smashed his axe in to Berylden and the shadow was immediately driven back to the shadow plane. Following that, one of the goblins fired four magic missiles from a wand at Aethramyr, but the missiles wilted as they got near the paladin. (As Aethramyr’s power has grown, so too has Shatterspike’s. It was now a full holy avenger, and the protection it gave was sufficient to defeat the wand.) Another minotaur charged, this time at Aethramyr. The eyes of the mind flayer skull grew bright and the axe wielded by the minotaur grafted onto it’s arm.

Psionic minotaurs. Feh.

Zera and Thorkeld engaged the delver, and struck some solid blows. Meanwhile the goblins tried to loose more magic missiles – this time they targeted Dravot, but he was close enough to Aethramyr that the protection covered him as well, and the missiles died out.

I was the only one who could see the gensai rider, so I opened fire on the unknown threat. The arrows struck solid, but then suddenly all fell out, leaving no mark. At the same time on the delver, deep puncture wounds opened up and the creature howled in pain so violently that the walls shook and Zera lost her footing. Clearly some kind of spell was redirecting wounds to the delver. The rider incanted a Recitation, becoming visible in the process.

Dravot tried an opening gambit, and intoned ancient words that caused him to begin releasing waves of light that played over the entire scene. Many of the goblins were stunned by the light, which at least bought us some time. Or so we thought. At that point, revealed in the light, was one of the shadow bat creatures. In fact it turned out to be more like a bird, with a beak that seemed crafted from onyx vitaesis. It dove at Dravot and pierced his neck. Dravot blanched sheet-white as you could see the creature suck the very essence from him. Then it hit me – it was some kind of stirge from hell. Dravot may be a priest but he is neither slight nor frail, and this creature weakened him so much as to nearly kill him in one strike. This thing was now the most threatening creature on the scene. Worse yet, a second one was revealed in the light. I was suddenly very afraid.

Aethramyr decided that rather than go around the tower shield, he would go through it, and brought Shatterspike down hard enough to shatter the mind flayer skull and the shield beneath it into a dozen pieces. As the skull shattered, a wispy spirit of a mind flayer rose up and disappeared, released from its prison. The minotaur looked none too pleased. Thanks to the mass haste delivered by Scorch earlier, Bolo dropped a pair of flame strikes on the goblins, crisping them.

But the goblins were not what scared me at the time. It was the stirges. One of them had hasted itself – don’t ask me how stirges cast spells. Then it stripped some ofmy spells away, causing me to land on the ground with a jolt. They had to die and quickly before they killed Dravot or anyone else. The one still perched on Dravot’s neck was an easier target, so I fired three arrows into it. They may be viscious, but at least they were fragile. The arrows sent it spinning across the cave, and the last one pinned it to the wall, limp. I fired one more shot at the other stirge, but where I would have sworn I had fired true, I only found shadow. Dravot however was as worried as I was, and laid a destruction spell on the remaining stirge, which wilted in the holy light.

While Zera and Thorkeld were continuing to heap abuse on the delver, a sad excuse for a fireball suddenly detonated in the middle of us – from a wand-toting goblin I’m sure. Then a silence spell fell on the area from a rock thrown by a goblin. These goblins were becoming a nuisance. The gensai then took Dravot’s example, and threw a destruction spell at Aethramyr. Scorch had enough out of him, and successfully dominated him, which was a great relief. Valanthe and Aethramyr then killed the remaining minotaurs while Bolo’s creeping doom crawled over the goblin hoard, leaving no flesh in their wake.

With a roar and tremble, the deliver finally succumbed to the two paladins of Pelor, and sank to the cavern floor and that ended the ambush. Dravot was barely able to stand, but other than that we had come through in fair shape.

I had commented to Dravot earlier that day that we were sorely lacking information, since we seemed to be unable to question any creature that would know enough to be useful. And now Scorch had seen fit to remedy this problem – the gensai cleric surely would know something of his master and this wretched place. But before we could even put a question to him, his demeanor changed, and the voice that came when he spoke was clearly not his own. The ShadowTaker had taken control of him.

“So, what is it you want? I’d like to bargain. You’ve killed a number of my guardians already, and I find that to be… inconvenient. So what can I offer you?”

Well, I had to at least give him credit for directness. But the whole thing seemed wrong. We suspected so much, and knew so little. But if this was the spider at the middle of this tangled web, then surely he knew exactly what we wanted. And just as surely he wouldn’t want to give it. So why have the discussion? He was up to some devious purpose, surely. The same concerns were clearly in the mind of the rest of the group as well.

Aethramyr fixed a cold stare on the creature. Dravot on the other hand seemed to be seething beneath the surface. Understandable given how the lich has desecrated this temple.

“So out with it! Perhaps we can come to terms rather than you continuing to disrupt things before your inevitable death.”

Aethramyr said quietly “What we seek, you would not care to part with.”

The creature sighed in a way that I’m sure is nothing like a gensai. He looked slightly disappointed, as if talking to a child. “But how can you know until it’s offered? Surely you could find better things to be doing with yourselves than this. You for instance,” he pointed casually at Bolo. “Shouldn’t you be defending your grove? Iuz is marching on it even now, you know.”

Bolo of course did not know. He managed to check his reaction but not by much. The ShadowTaker picked up on it. “Oh well, what could I expect. After all you didn’t even bother to protect the poor delver here,” and he gestured absently at the oozing beast. “It was after all just a poor dumb beast, dominated by magic. And you killed it rather than try to help it.”

The lich struck a nerve. Bolo said only “Your death is inevitable,” but clearly he wanted to say more and was avoiding the issue. He then added over the mental link “I think he’s just trying to rile me.” I couldn’t help but think he was succeeding admirably.

For my part, I kept silent. There was nothing to be gained for us this way, and any word said would surely be used against us.

Dravot, his temper quieted, said “Your doom will come, evil one. And on that day the reconing will come for all the sins you have committed over your long years. You must be scared, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Your time comes, and soon.”

The ShadowTaker just waved dismissively at that, and seemed genuinely frustrated that we were not more talkative. He sighed heavily and said “I suppose we have to do things the hard way then.” As he withdrew his presence from the gensai, the creature’s head rolled to the side. Its eyes were vacant, and it was now hardly more than a breathing vegetable. So much for useful information.

As we gathered ourselves to proceed, Bolo noticed some tracks. Something creature had been watching during the fight and left. We followed the tracks for a ways to a split in the passage. The tracks then became more deceptive, attempting to lead us in one direction while proceeding in the other. But after some close examination, I suddenly realized that the tracks were entirely fake. It was a decoy set to distract us, or lure us, or perhaps even just to see if we would catch it. When I pointed it out, Valanthe and Bolo saw it too – just a ruse.

Knowing the tracks were fake, I was disinclined to take either passageway. I suggested we search the area – since the tracks were leading us away, perhaps there was something here that we were being drawn away from. We spread out and it wasn’t long before we found a door hidden behind an illusion. The door was a spiral of coral and it opened to reveal a long tube of a corridor made of a pearlescent shell-like material. It was like being thrust into a seashell. The corridor split into two directions and each spiraled downward.

It occurred to me that perhaps this was the trap the tracks were trying to drive us into through another layer of deception, but I did my best to just put it out of my mind. We formed up and started entering one of the branches of the pearly tube. Before we could even all file in, two things happened. One was bad – the door suddenly shut, leaving Thorkeld outside. The other was worse – a part of the wall detatched between Valanthe and me. It was like a ring separated and moved to just inside the tube. Then the ring became filled with inky blackness, as if a dye of pure darkness was shot into water. The blackness quickly filled the ring. Valanthe was scouting up ahead of me, as was our usual practice, and must have tripped the device and fortunately she was the only one cut off by it. The ring began to slowly move down the spiral hallway towards Valanthe. And then Scorch said three words.

Sphere of annihilation.

Either this was a very deadly trap, or the most vicious cleaning system ever devised. Valanthe wasted no time shadow stepping back to the group, and the ring silently slid down the tube, gaining speed as it went. Valanthe then re-opened the door, and set to disarming this deadly mechanism. She managed to jam it so that it woudn’t deploy again. We had to wait for the ring to reach the bottom and return, but once it did her handiwork held, and we moved down the tube cautiously.

At the bottom, things began heating up. We suspected that we had crossed into another demi-plane, and this oen was quite warm. There was the heat and glow of molten rock from down the corridor and the sounds of flowing rock could be heard. We began making our way through the area, but soon saw that at least one thing hadn’t changed.

More mirrors.

We had to pass though the area, and debated the same methods as before. The mirrors this time did not break when we tried it, so that seemed to exclude one disaster. Bolo volunteered to step in and see what happened. Lacking any other ideas, we nodded and he stepped into the room. Now of course any adventurer who has ever set foot in a tavern has heard stories about mirrors where the reflection became real and attacked. I never really gave much thought to whether it happened or not, but it seemed I no longer need to. The reflection of Bolo stepped out from the mirror, and cursed at his counterpart. It seemed to take Bolo a minute to realize it was him – I don’t think he’s quite used to his new reflection yet. The fortunate part is that we were not fighting our entire party – only Bolo (or as we called it, Olob.) Before Olob could move too far and I lost track of who was who, I fired several arrows into him. While he didn’t drop immediately, he was badly wounded from the volley. Having tipped the odds, I had little doubt that Bolo could deal with his double now without any confusion.

As it turns out, it wasn’t necessary. In his outrage at his own image, Olob dealt with himself. He let loose a thuderswarm, and while it did scorched Bolo badly, Olob was caught in the conflagration as well, and it was enough to kill him. The spell also took out the mirrors, and so we simply healed poor Bolo and moved on.

As we worked our way through the passages, I became more concerned as a nagging doubt ate away at me. We had pushed deep into this twisted place, but there was no telling how much more lie ahead. For all we have faced so far, I can’t say that we’ve made any real progress. We seem to be no closer to the Light of Reason or the Pyre than when we first set foot in the cistern. Indeed the entire place seems to be a giant rats maze, designed to sap our energy and direction as we run in circles. I begin to wonder if we can even find the ancient artifacts this way, or the ShadowTaker. After setting such an elaborate maze, can we really expect to find him at the end of it? I wonder. I keep searching for a way to bypass these defenses or go around them in some creative manner, but I can think of none. But I’m sure that we cannot keep going as we are. We are playing into the ShadowTaker’s hands this way, and this dungeon could go on forever. If we are to succeed, we need to change our approach somehow. Now if only I knew how. My only comfort is that Pelor told Dravot that the Light of Reason was indeed here. But are we even “here” any more? Until we can come up with another idea, we must go forward. But forward into what?

Some of the hallways came to dead ends, ending in mirrors. It’s possible that they were more transportation mirrors, or they were traps. In any case Valanthe avoided looking at herself in them and we went in other directions. As we came down one hallway, we heard a scuttling noise. The hall lead to a large foundry and smithy workroom. To the left was a demon – a bebbilith – with which we were all too familiar. But ahead was a bigger surprise.

It was Rackhir.

Normally I would figure this for a ruse, but knowing Rackhir was in the Bestiary as we did, it seemed all too likely that this was truly him. However his eyes glowed with a wicked power, and certainly he was not of his own mind. I also noted that while he was armed, he did not carry the bow that Scorch and Dravot had made for him. I’m sure the djinn contained would not have obeyed him while he was so possessed.

Rackhir reached for something I couldn’t make out, and mumbled something about the sleepers. As he did so, Zera’s eyes began to glow with the same evil power. Dravot had warned us that the ShadowTaker might have some hold over her, and it seemed it was so. In a moment all hell would break loose as we had to contend with her and Rackhir and the bebbilith.

But there was one more sleeper who awoke. One more person who’s eyes glowed with an evil aura. One more person who would turn against us.

Behind me, I could hear a cackle that could only have one source – Scorch.

 

[WizarDru]

He hated the cold.
He hated the snow even more.
Why was he here?
He had been asked.
He was the Lone Tooth.

He hated the cold.

He trudged on, passing the assembled corpses spread about the battlefield. Some were metal-make, with their acidic and unliving scent that made nose itch. The others were plain to smell, as he first had, after passing the giant iron markers.

Orc-stink.

There were humans scattered amongst the dead, too, though the Lone Tooth cared little. The smell of blood awakened...what? Something in him, that he had not felt in a long time. What was it? Lust for blood? Hunger? Anger? All of them? He could not say. He was the Lone Tooth, and that was enough.

His soft fore-paws padded on the harsh and unforgiving frozen earth, stepping around the frozen patches of blood and gore. He paused, staring at the bodies. He tried to focus his thoughts (which had become more difficult, lately). He saw a banner sticking through one of the corpses, thrusting skyward in defiance of the defeat it's followers had suffered. Or had they? The banner's logo was familiar, somehow. Where had he seen it before? The answer was swift, in his mind.

"YOU never have", it said. "That memory is of the other. It is his memory you seek." The Lone Tooth snarled at this, as if urging his own thoughts to stop. He padded on, leaving the fallen bodies behind. He was no carrion crow, and did not feed on the dead.

He soon left the field of the fallen, crossing the plain. His white fur made him nearly invisble across the tundra, especially when the wind kicked up the fine powder. Even if there had been silence, though, the Lone Tooth made no sound. He never did.

He travelled for miles more, over trackless terrain, until he smelled it. It was unnatural...it did not belong on this world. It stank of metal and evil. And it was not alone.

They came in a pack. Six of them, he guessed. He was unconcerned. Still, he could not allow this to be easy. First, he needed to test their speed. He waited until they drew close, and then suddenly burst into full stride, all four of his legs no more than blurs. He could smell all of them now, as they approached. They were not as fast as he, he could now tell. They could run a man down, and perhaps an unwary deer. But not him.

Now he led them on a merry chase, through the rough crags that began ahead. As he reached them, he could see the ground beginning to thaw, as if he had journeyed hundreds of miles, instead of tens. His pursuers continued on, feeling no fatigue. Clearly, they could run for hours, if they so desired.

But then, so could he.

They were fast and lithe...for metallic obscenties styled after real creatures. They looked like a cross between some sort of four legged predator, a sword and....what were they called? Oh yes, a bullette. He had eaten one of those, not so long ago.

Now the pursuing steel predators entered the cul-de-sac, certain that they had cornered their prey. The pack was hungry. He could smell their foul reek...like blood and coal, mixed together. He let them approach, as the pack surrounded him, boxing him in. They were nearly his size, and those jaws could clearly snap boulders in twain. They chose to show him, leaping at him with frightening speed. They pounced....

on an empty space. Only one of them had the wits to see him somersualt over them, landing in a hunter's position behind them. If he understood what an odd movement it was for a white dire lion to make, he made no sign. And as his paws flew out, again and again, faster than the eye could follow, the first one fell. He clamped his jaws on another, snapping his head off. The Lone Tooth tasted oil and carbon, as he spat the monstrosities head out.

The next two dived at him, but he was faster than any creature of his size had a right to be. He dodged left and right, always aware of where the next unfocused, clumsy attack would land. His tail lashed out like a whip, cracking the air and stunning one of his opponents. The final opponent managed to bite him, it's terrible poisonious venom burning into his skin. But the Lone Tooth was beyond such concerns, and his body could not be fouled by such an obscenity as this.

In seconds, he dispatched the rest of his opponents. He suffered a few minor wounds, but nothing of consequence. He focused on the Green, and heard it's call. His pain washed away, his wounds healed. Yet his stomach was empty. These creatures were no food for the likes of him, and there was little or no game about. As he looked ahead towards the ever warming north and licking his lips, he realized one thing.

If he wanted dinner, Bolo would provide it.

 

[WizarDru]

Aerich waited patiently, standing near the table of food. He waited patiently, musing to himself. Even now, it took some etting used to, holding a ladel instead of a longsword. The cleric of Fhalangan gazed up and down the row of crude tables, all filled with refugees who had been unable to escape before the wall had gone up.

The meager fare was like a banquet to most. He dedicated most of his daily benefit of the Lord of Roads to creating clean water and edible, untainted food. Some of his benefits were saved for more esoteric purposes. At that moment, he was thinking of a good use for several of them on his young charge, when the boy, Morant, arrived.

He was a lanky and almost gaunt, but this had nothing to do with the food shortage, or the occupation. The boy was as thin as a reed, and always had been. Once a common thief, Aerich had taken the boy in and given him a purpose...although he still found uses for the boys more questionable talents. It was to such a purpose that Aerich had set the boy this morning, although he hadn't expected him to take this long. It was near to lunch hour, and he had need of the boys hands and the vegetables he was to have acquired.

"Sorry, master, sorry!" the boy exclaimed, breathless. Slung over his back was a rucksack, no doubt containing potatoes and possibly some other vegetables. The boy was well-nigh on 16, now, and stronger than he looked, but a sack of potatoes was no easy burden to carry steathily across half a city's worth of ruins.

"A servant of the Traveller always knows how long a journey might take, Morant.", Aerich chided him, softly. He opened the bag and examined its contents approvingly. "Another job well done, though, I see. You weren't followed or seen?"

"Nay, master. You know I'm too careful for that. Those turncoats must think they have the half-dragon rabbits!" They both chuckled, quietly, as the elder priest began removing the tubers from the bag and preparing to add them to the stew pots. Aerich had never had any children, but he regarded Morant as warmly as if the orphan was his own. His pride in the boy overcame his disappointment that there were some who had sworn allegience to the Reds, and served them like pets, in return for food and relative safety. That reminded him of something.

"What of the dragons, lad? How many did you see?"

"Dragons, master? None, today," came the boy's reply. Aerich's heart froze.

"None? Not even crossing the city? Surely you saw one."

"Nay, master. Naught. Perhaps they're sleeping off the chill?" Aerich's mind raced. No dragons? Why? Yes, it had been unusually cold lately, but not out of the ordinary. There had been the strange black snow that had swept through the city weeks ago...but that had proved to be a false alarm. The dragons were apparently as confused about it as he had been.

As he dropped some potatoes into the nearest pot, he caught of flicker of the light, as if a shadow had passed overhead. He looked up, and saw nothing. His hand went to his side, where Walker's Justice lay concealed in it's scabbard. Quickly, he began reviewing his options. They weren't terribly appealing, and there weren't many of them.

He was about to tell the boy to start quietly dispersing the refugees, but it was too late. He felt as much as heard the thunderous crash of the giant reptiles, the grounds shuddering at their arrival. People began scrambling in terror, fleeing in every direction. The air filled with screams of panic and shock. Some were too terrified to move at the arrival of the wyrms.

Aerich stared in horror at the street in front of his makeshift abbey. There were three of them, one larger than any living thing that he had ever seen before. It was a Red wyrm, and it's very presence project menace. Beside it stood two smaller dragons, one obviously an adult, another an adolescent, though no less terrifying for that. Several people had been crushed, along with the table they had been sitting at, when the dragons had fell to earth. Though their features were alien, Aerich could recoqnize amusement on the eldest's face. The rumble of thunder that came next was the deep bass of it's voice.

"I TOLD YOU, GETHYX. THIEVES. LITTLE RABBITS, YES?", it said. It must have overheard Morant. Had it followed him, or was it just playing a game? Did it matter?

The smallest of the three, small being the size of a horse, trotted over to the table. With a flourish, it swung it's tail around, sweeping the stew pots clean away. The pots landed noisily in the street, causing the hot stew to splash about. A few cowering peasants yelped in pain when it spilled on them, but remained silent otherwise, hoping to avoid notice.

"Harh harh harh! See, Orathanyx! SEE! Look at them cower! They know! They know!" It glared at Aerich while it's tongue flicked out, tasting the air. It's reptilian eyes focused on the cleric, and then on his acolyte. "Ooohh. The little thief looks tasty...may I have him as a snack, brother?"

The middle dragon casually struck the smallest with his tail, knocking it backwards. It attempted to rise, desperately trying to maintain it's dignity. Aeirch could think of nothing but a dog that displeased its cruel master.

"Silence, WHELP." It regarded the smallest one with open disdain. "Never FORGET. YOU are SMALLEST. The CHOICE of FIRST BLOOD will go to Orathanyx, not YOU." The third dragon looked chastised, but its expression was acid. Like all of it's kind, it considered violence first...but it could not kill it's elder, so it waited.

Aerich knew there was little time left to act. He had to move quickly, while suprise was on his side. As his hand moved to Walker's Justice, he saw Morant reaching behind his back, for a short sword, no doubt. Aerich needed to distract the dragons...give the refugees time to escape, or none of them would survive. His life was already gone, but he could save the lives of others. He had always wondered if he would die like the many heroes of Fharlangann's church, fighting oppresors to the end. It was for such an eventuality that he had held back his most powerful spell.

He looked over at Morant. "Be well, boy. Have a drink on me." The young acolyte looked back at his master with a mixture of confusion and shock. He was in the process of saying something, when Aerich Plane Shifted him to the Halls of Kord. He hoped. Now he just had to draw his sword and wait the dragons out.

Orathaynx was through waiting, however. With one swift stride, it moved forward, and grasped Aerich by the throat with one its huge claws. His sword hung limply from his right arm, begging to be swung...but Aerich didn't have the strength to breathe, let alone fight. The wyrm glared down at him.

"HOW QUAINT. DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS, LITTLE MOUSE?." It glared at Aerich, as if waiting for a response..but since he couldn't breathe, that wasn't going to happen. "IT'S THE LAST DAY OF YOUR LIFE. THE TIME HAS COME FOR A BURNING. THANK YOU FOR KEEPING ALL OF THESE MORSELS ALIVE FOR US. TODAY WE FINALLY KILL YOU ALL AND SATE OUR HUNGER. NO MORE WAITING.

WILL YOU BEG, I WONDER? WILL YOU..."

Aerich would never know what the wyrm would say next. It happened so quickly that he could scarcely follow it. A sudden flash of light blinded him, accompanied by a rush of silent wind. The light was a reflection off of something metallic, but he couldn't follow the blindingly fast object. Orathanyx, for his part, seemed confused. His enormous jaws were still working, as if he was still talking...but the razor thin cut that separated his neck from his head was erupting in blood and rushing air.

Orathanyx's grip went limp, and Aerich went tumbling to the ground. He couldn't see well, and began coughing violently as air ran back into his lungs, mixed with a little blood, perhaps. It was several seconds before he could see what was happening, though he heard the dragon scream, in challenge or fear, he couldn't say. The smell of burning wood came to him. Gripping his sword, he regained his feet, and looked about at the now strangely darker street.

Orathanyx had collapsed, his life's blood running into the street. People had run during the confusion, and Aerich found himself quite alone. The second dragon was gone, but from the gout of blood over the nearest ruined building, he guessed he hadn't gone far. The smallest one was where he had seen him last, but now was cowering. It was then that he realized that the sun was still out, and something was shading him from the sun.

He turned, still wary, but not holding his sword in a threatening manner. It was larger than the red. In spite of himself, he shuddered.

"ARE YOU INJURED?"

"N-N-no. Wh-who...?" was all he coud manage.

"MY NAME IS PARAVANDAR. I BRING YOU A MESSAGE." His great golden scales reflected in the sun, casting an aura around him. In the sky above, he could see them. Dozens of them. Golds, silvers, coppers, bronzes and more.

"W-what is the message?", he asked, steeling himself.

As if in response, the great gold's tail flew out, a strange mithril and golden blade form-fitted like a gauntlet attached to it. It flew straight for the cowering red, severing his head from his body, and then returning, like a bird in flight.

"THE GILDEN GOES TO WAR."

 

[Zad]

The Crypt of the ShadowTaker - Chapter 8

Well, the devoted author had to have an emergency root canal yesterday you see...

The Crypt of the ShadowTaker - Chapter 8

OOC Notes:
Exp is 3300

Loot:
All Scorch’s stuff.
Pale Lavender Ioun Stone
Bracers of Armor +4 (to Kayleigh, +3’s into the pile)
30 gems totaling 7,500gp
Pile of holy symbols of various gods, most with symbol of Therizdun hidden inside
10 suits of masterwork full plate
10 masterwork greataxes
2 +3 rings of protection
2 potions cure serious wounds
2 potions endurance
2 potions heroism
2 +2 breastplates
2 darkwood shields
2 +2 heavy maces
Breastplate of Command


This Week’s Adventure:
Left with little choice, we killed Scorch. I admit I didn’t feel too bad about it until some time after we looted his corpse.

Ok, not really.

We were in a narrow hallway, with Scorch and Zera now under the control of the ShadowTaker, and Rackhir across the room, and a bebbilith nearby. This would not be fun. Attached to both Rackhir and the bebbilith were some kind of metallic grafts, something like what the druids of Vecna had attatched to them, but made of metal. Rackhir quickly jumped behind a pile of rusted metal to use it as cover, and began firing arrows out. I could see that part of the barrier was an illusion – one he could clearly see through. I was hit by three arrows, tainted with acid, and Valanthe by two. He banked the arrows off the wall and hit despite not having clear sight of us. I was sure I’d have to worry about defense before offense, and quickly cast a haste and mirror image to buy some time.

Meanwhile, Scorch thought it would be best to separate the party, and put a wall of force across the hallway, cutting off Valanthe, me, Aethramyr and Dravot from him and the rest of the group. A sound idea considering what Dravot had ready but could not execute in time. Bolo, on Scorch’s side of the wall, had a sure plan to keep him from casting any more spells, and summoned a swarm. Of course, in this perverted place, he didn’t get beetles but instead got fiendish beetles and they showed no sign of doing what he wanted.

Aethramyr was just the man to deal with Rackhir and flew across the room over the pool of lava in the middle. As I saw him rush forward I warned him just in time – he was about to fly into an invisible blade barrier that was set up in the room, spinning in a disk vertically. Aethramyr went around it and smoothly put Shatterspike across the bow Rakchir was using, and it snapped into pieces. Rackhir was not pleased. On the other side of the wall, Thorkeld showed no hesitation in dealing with his fellow paladin, and promptly tripped Zera right onto her backside. He then proceeded to pin her to the floor to prevent her from causing much damage to anyone.

[Ok the blade barrier was pretty funny. Aethramyr was going to fly across the room, and Wizardru said "Ok you fly through the invisible blade barrier." And I said "Um, there's an invisible blade barrier? Didn't I notice it?" And he looked at me, and then realized that I have full time see invisible running, and went "Oh yeah. Um. Yeah it's right here. I guess you tell Aethramyr and he steers around it." And we laughed and asked if there were any invisible mooncalves in the room.]

Now the room in question had several passages out, and one looped back around to the rest of the party. Dravot went invisible and began moving around to the other side of the force wall. I only hoped he could get there before too much damage was done.

Valanthe cut into Rackhir who was now unarmed and pressed. He moved back and drew a new bow. He was able to move quite a distance away but not far enough – Aethramyr closed on him and sundered that bow as well. Scorch threw a lightning bolt down the hall at his friends. It hurt, but at least it had the advantage of destroying the fiendish beetles that were about to tear into Bolo. Thus freed, Bolo took several swings at Scorch with his flame blade, trying to press him.

This left the Bebbilith free for me. It had tried to entangle me in webbing but the glob just hit one of the mirror images and landed against the wall with a wet squish. I opened fire on the creature, hoping I could destroy it before it could do much more damage. Arrows struck hard through its chitinous outer layer, and it squealed as ichor oozed onto the floor.

Valanthe left Rackhir to Aethramyr, and swept by on the flying carpet and picked up Dravot so he could cover distance through the corridors more quickly. Once among the group, he leapt off and cast an anti-magic field. Scorch was close enough to be in the effect, and quickly returned to his own senses and began looking for the source of the mental control.

I fired another full volley into the bebbilith. The creature reared and teetered for a moment before collapsing under its own weight into a hulk on the floor. The soul was not ripped out, the creature just died. That’s three down.

Rackhir had drawn a battle axe and hoped to deal with Aethramyr that way, but Aethramyr simply shattered that weapon at well, and the head fell from the haft with an unceremonious clatter. He then began pummeling Rackhir with the flat of his blade. Just then I came round the corner and started firing blunt arrows into Rackhir, also trying to knock him out. As the first arrow slammed into him, he was knocked back against the wall and slumped. As he did, his body turned to vapor and disappeared. It looked almost like the same phenomenon as when an outsider is killed and returns to its own plane. Rackhir was not dead, but nor was he saved.

The discussion that followed was one of the most unsettling yet in my years with this group. I confess I busied myself looking around the rooms so as to avoid what was happening in the hallway. Scorch’s eyes had been two different colors ever since he was brought back from death via cloning in the Guild Halls. He believed that it was part of a long and cunning plan by the ShadowTaker to control the mages, and that one of the eyes was what let him be dominated. I swear there was a hint of admiration when Scorch concluded the depth of the scheme. But it was the solution that was chilling, not for what it was, but for the casual way in which Scorch put it forward.

“Just remove my eye,” Scorch said to Dravot, as if he were ordering lunch. He accepted it in the same way one accepts that night fell, and stood there, waiting for Dravot to remove his affected organ. Dravot said little, but took a small silver knife from his healing kit, and did what had to be done. Scorch didn’t make a sound – except to examine the eye in interest once it was removed while Dravot bandaged him. I just felt sick to my stomach and hoped Dravot could regenerate a proper eye. Scorch was already babbling something about a magical gem to replace it.

We searched around carefully, finding a few interesting items around the room or on the bebbilith. The demonic spider had used one area to feed, and we found some trinkets from dead victims. Another room had a pile of holy symbols from most of the major religions of the Flaness. However each was crafted with a hidden symbol of Therizdun inside like what the druids had in the Grove.

One room was a large workshop with a full forge and facilities. Aethramyr examined the facilities while I examined Rackhir’s shattered weapons. The bow was not the one Scorch had crafted for him, holding the djinn that was supposed to be his conscience. The bow was certainly not made by an elf, and it seemed to be not even made by someone who cared for the bow, as if the creator understood them but did not use them. Even Rackhir’s own work had more love in it than this – the weapon was completely mechanical and utilitarian with no art at all. It was made of wood and mithril and had no adornments at all. It suddenly struck me it had the same kind of plain feel as things generally did made by the Egg of Coot – it wasn’t so much the item but the design ethic.

Another similarity was the carts of vitaesis that were in the workshop. The carts each held a different type and were enchanted to prevent them from reacting with each other. From the dust on the floor, the vitaesis has been used in making magical items here. It also seemed that isometril had been used, but there was no supply in evidence in the workship. The shop itself was at least 300 years old but was not part of the original temple.

More disturbing however was the smelting area, which had prototypes of the spider creatures that had contained the children, as well as various other elements of the Egg of Coot’s menagerie. However the things here were at least 200 years in sitting, which meant that there was a far deeper dimension to the happenings in the Land of Black Ice than we had previously known. Another area held an alchemical lab, and there were vials of viscid sap. Scorch said if you wanted to create some of the Gulthias Horrors we have seen, you would need to start with this sap. So the ShadowTaker seems to have his hand in that as well. There were a few notes scattered about, but not many. Scorch was convinced there was ongoing research underway relating to the horrors and some of what was here was the early prototypes for creatures we have seen. The signs were also clear that there was more than one mage that worked here.

Once Scorch was bandaged, that only left Zera. She could probably be re-controled at any time the ShadowTaker felt like it. We protected her temporarily with a magic circle but this would not last. [Note that at this point Scorch said “I’ll keep an eye on her.” Ba-dump-bump.] We resolved to protect her as we could, and keep her bound the rest of the time. She was as willing as any of us, being somewhat ashamed of herself for being controlled so. Once these matters were attended to, we got ready to move. Zera reported could no longer hear her brother. Scorch scried him and he was still in the Beastiary and Rackhir was back there as well. Scorch had a sure sense that the Bestiary was located down the other pearlescent tunnel. Since there was nowhere to go from the forge, we went back to the other tunnel.

We stepped through a threshold that seemed to put us on another demi-plane. The plane was strongly lawful and strongly magical. There was a semi-transparent door ahead and some branching corridors and just for a second I saw a movement of red beyond it. Later, as I write this, I can say with certainty it was a slaad. I can say this because a moment later we were attacked by some thirty of them.

From one hallway came a dozen blue slaad, from another a dozen red, and from behind us, a dozen green. The band was lead by a death slaad. And death is what came.

In an instant, there were spells and arrows and blades flying everywhere. Bolo used another wall of fire, and the slaad had nowhere to run. Scorch released a prismatic spray in another direction. Dravot used a wall of stone to cut off some of them. The battle was fast and bloody, but the blood was almost all from the slaadi. Within several seconds, most of the slaad were dead. The rest didn’t last much longer.

[Valanthe “It was a slaaughter.”]

From the corner of my eye, I saw one running away, and fired at it. It spilled forward in a heap, sliding into a room with a polished marble floor. As it entered, the body was suddenly jerked upward as if on strings. I leaned in to get a better look, and I saw hundreds of bodies inside the room, all floating in the air. And there was a hum or glow in the air – I can’t really describe it. But Dravot felt it immediately and he was gazing at the room while Scorch analyzed and made obscure calculations. Dravot took out his holy symbol and mouthed a quiet prayer before saying that he believed we were inside the Light of Reason. It was as if the artifact were opened up as a demi-plane, and we were inside one of the two central chambers. Or at least sort of. But if we were inside the artifact, how could we possibly recover it and use it against the ShadowTaker…

 

[dravot]

Stuff Zad couldn't put into the storyhour:

The second reason why Valanthe picked up Dravot was that the bebilith moved up and tried to swallow Kayleigh (catching a mirror image instead), which resulted in it blocking Dravot's path. It was next to the lava pool. Dravot was looking at a tumble check with dire consequences if he failed. A ring of major fire protection notwithstanding, it didn't look like a lot of fun.

Bolo's dog started doing real damage to Zira, and Bolo's flame blade was starting to do real damage to Scorch. It was looking pretty grim in that back corner. The wall of force spell that Scorch cast was probably the best one to keep Dravot away from the fight...if it weren't for the magic carpet, it might have been another 1-2 rounds before Dravot could have gotten there.

The slaad were led by a Death Slaad with a few levels of cleric in it. It used a passwall spell to break through the wall of stone that Dravot had cast. We were looking at an ugly fight when Scorch cast finger of death on it, something like a DC 28.

WizarDru: "He'll fail if he rolls a '1'".

*roll*

1.


It was a fun night.

 

[WizarDru]

The Shadow-Taker stumbled backwards for a moment, a look of consternation upon his face. Almost absent-mindedly, he passed his hand over his face, as if checking if he still had eyes there.

"The paladin and the cleric...", he mumbled, "it's always the paladins and the cleric."

The archer said nothing.

"I know, you didn't expect anything to come of it", he commented, glancing at the darkness before him. "But Scorch was a good tool, merely in need of sharpening. Perhaps the way of reason may yet succeed."

A cold breeze that passed for the archer's voice replied, "And if that fails?"

"Then I suspect we'll be forced to use...less elegant methods."

The archer merely smiled, and began slicing his face with an arrowhead, drawing blood.

It was the only way to amuse himself until his master realized there was no other way.

Then he would have his chance.

 

[Zad]

If I get a chance, I'm going to compile a quick list of every major NPC and their lies. After the story is done.

 

[Zad]

The Crypt of the ShadowTaker - Chapter 9

The Crypt of the ShadowTaker - Chapter 9

OOC Notes:
Exp is 4,500.


This Week’s Adventure:
Puzzled, we took time to carefully examine the chambers in which we stood. There were two circular rooms, connected in one area. Throughout each, bodies floated in the vastness above – there had to be several hundred of them, of all races, sizes, and ages. [Wizardru: and templates] We were able to find Rackhir and Zara both among them. Many of them had strange items grafted on to them. Some had appendages removed and things replacing them, either of metal or vegetation. The people who had no attatchments seemed to be in stasis, while the ones with them were not quite still. The devices were hurting them. The reason suddenly became clear - Scorch was sure we were on another plane, and Dravot was equally sure we were inside the Light of Reason. There was an apparent connection to the positive material plane, and we noticed that our wounds were being healed slowly. If the people were not being hurt slightly, they would burst from the positive energy.

We also found Brontal the Smith. But he wasn’t quite right – it seems he was now a dwarf, but I couldn’t begin to guess why.

A careful survey of the chambers revealed some very subtle work on the floor. There were some large panels of adamantite in the floor, carefully set among the stone and disguised to look like the surrounding floor. It was clearly not part of the original artifact. The plate in the floor in the one section of the artifact had the touch of abjuration magic, but the other panels did not. (They were not the same in shape either.) Scorch also began to identify a dimensional shift in the area that linked the two rooms. Aethramyr was able to detect an odd curtain of evil separating the two rooms. Dravot looked more carefully at the sacred inscriptions and saw that the one chamber seemed to be a mirror image of the second chamber. It almost seemed as if someone tried to duplicate the original, good chamber but was not completely successful.

Suddenly, five hundred voices spoke with one mind.

I think it’s time we had another talk.

The ShadowTaker again. We must be worrying him more. The effect of all the voices speaking as one was quite overwhelming, but at the same time vaguely annoying. It was hard to make out all the words. Scorch, in a practical moment, said “Do you think you can tone it down a bit? That’s just a bit much.”

The ShadowTaker obliged, using only one voice, but moving it from body to body as he spoke, trying to maintain his projection of power.

”You have become quite the inconvenience. You should listen to my offer. For if you do not cooperate, I will simply kill all the people you see gathered here. They are completely mine and I will slay them all if you do not cooperate. Besides, there is much I can offer you. I have no doubt that we can come to some sort of arrangement that will benefit us both” said Rackhir.

I glanced at Dravot and he at me and we shared some private words. Neither of us fancied the idea of all these people dead, but we could certainly not bow to the ShadowTaker’s demands. Neither of us really thought he would kill all these people and destroy his own power base. Dravot sagely pointed out that he might simply kill one at a time until we capitulated. That was more troubling, but in any case, I resolved that while unfortunate, these people might be casualties of this war. It was tragic but we had to press on.

A female voice near Scorch said ”For you, I can offer what you crave most – power. I can show you secrets not seen since the Sule.”

Another voice spoke from a body near some of us. ”For the rest of you, I can offer you . . . freedom. Freedom of control for your friends or family.” The voices kept coming from bodies around the room, making it clear whom he was speaking at. A halfling voice said ”Go and seek out your son. He needs you. Follow this vision and you will find him. Yollonda commands it.” Bolo bristled visibly, realizing now how his parents came to Ruun Khazai.

”You must go lead the elven armies in the south. Your Queen needs you.”

“How long will the dreamer sleep?”

“When was the last time you saw Jasmine?”

These last were to me, Aethramyr and Dravot. But interestingly, the Dreamer was already awakened by our own hand. It seemed that the ShadowTaker was taking what information he had, and trying to make it look like he had more of a hand in things than he truly did. Otherwise he would know the Dreamer had awakened already. Indeed his comments and entire bearing suggested to me he was trying to bluff us into believing him with more pull than he had.

Of course it hardly mattered. Not to me at any rate and not to most of us I think. He was evil, deceitful and manipulative. He could not be allowed to continue. And we were here, and we were going to stop him, come what may.

Bolo attempted a play at dismissal. “When you are dead, then they will all be free.” The ShadowTaker laughed from a dozen voices at once.

What will happen to the puppets when the puppet master dies? All those poor little dolls with their strings cut.

Bolo remained defiant but I believe he was worried. Between his parents, and the mention of Iuz attacking the grove, I think the old lich was getting to him. I don’t think Bolo’s determination was about to waver, but he was surely concerned.

I decided to turn the tables and take the conversation elsewhere, or at least try. “And why, I must wonder, would you deign to bargin with the likes of us? Why try to buy us off?” The reply was at once dismissive and yet annoyed.

This whole affair has become… expensive. It has forced me to use resources I would rather not have spent. And so it becomes simpler to deal with you this way.

“And how could a being such as you, one with such forethought and long planning, have come to find yourself in this position at all?” I wondered aloud. I didn’t really expect an answer, but it had crossed my mind.

But apparently the ShadowTaker didn’t have one. He instead turned on Dravot and changed the subject. And what of you? The Living Saint. Have you nothing to say?

Dravot was cold and determined. “I came to take that which you should not have.”

The puppets sighed in unison, seemingly deciding there was no talking to us. The ShadowTaker withdrew his presence, and we pondered our next action.

Ultimately we decided we needed some guidance. The inside of this artifact also seemed to have a strong connection with the Elysian Fields and Dravot entered a trance to commune with his god. Soon a point of light grew to a bright glow, and when it was full, a planetar stepped through.

Greetings, Chalice bearer. You have summoned, and I have come to bring you the Knowledge of our Lord.

After the appropriate prayers and blessings, Dravot asked his questions. “Is there anyone in our group besides Zera that has been tainted by the ShadowTaker’s domination?”

The planetar did not reply in words but instead, in a single fluid motion, and with a speed I could only envy, drew its shining greatsword and sliced out at Bolo, the tip stopping just short of his startled hand. There was an eternity of silence afterward, finally broken by the sound of a ring falling on the stone floor. The ring of ivy was cut in two, and clattered to the ground and stood still. The ring was a gift from Bolo’s goddess.

Or was it? Apparently not. As the ring lay on the ground, a drop of sap oozed from the broken edge. Scorch put a touch of it to his lips and casually remarked “Gulthite sap.”

Dravot asked “Would it be wise for us to tamper with the adamantite inlay in the floor here?” and gestured at the enchanted disk in the “good” section of the rooms.

The planetar took two steps towards the disk and started at it, then brought the sword down in as a spike and drove it into the floor. The room shook for a moment, then cracks appeared throughout the disk, and it shattered and fell away, revealing a spiral staircase beneath it. From below the stairs we could see a warm light, like the setting sun. The planetar looked calmly at Dravot.

No.

“And what of the other inlays there in the other room?”

No.

“Is it within our power to release the people imprisoned here from within this chamber?”

No.

“Will these stairs lead us to the Pyre of Pelor?”

Yes.

“Can we find the Light of Reason in the form of an object somewhere within the Bestiary?”

Yes, beneath it.

“Does the ShadowTaker have a weakness we can exploit?”

Yes

(I found this answer more depressing than not knowing. How can we find this weakness?)

“Has Bolo’s grove been attacked?”

Not yet, but time here is subjective.

“The ShadowTaker has threatened others close to us just now. Are they in immediate danger?”

No.

“Can he slay all the captives here as he threatened?”

Yes.

Here, we had some discussion as to what tack to take next. Bolo suggested asking if the ShadowTaker were somehow duplicated, and Scorch framed the question to provide detail.

“Is the ShadowTaker cloned?”

No.

“Is he simulaccrum’d?”

No.

“Can we destroy him without the Light of Reason?”

No.

“Can we destroy him with it?”

Yes.

“Is it safe to rest here?”

No.

“Will the Light of Reason let us activate the Mark of Fire?”

Yes.

Having no other questions, Dravot thanked the planetar and released him. The plantear bowed slightly to Dravot, and wished us luck. As he turned to go, he glanced at Bolo and added

You have one question left. I will exceed my authority here and answer it. The question you would have asked – is he duplicated – the answer is yes.

The light in the room faded, and Dravot looked strained from the effort, but less so than usual. He seemed to have a renewed energy, knowing the Light of Reason was nearby. And so we headed down the spiral staircase. With each step the oppressive nature of the area faded leaving no doubt we were transitioning to some other demi-plane. I could hear the sounds of gentle waves crashing on a distant shoreline and the smell of salt air added to the tranquil feeling. As the walls of the stairway fell away into a soft mist, a soft warm light shone from all around. The stairs hung in empty space, finally descending through a glowing fogbank to a grassy hill. The air was warm and pleasant, and the ocean was louder now. The hill was one of several that rolled over the area, forming a beautiful vista. To the south there were some mountains in the far distance, and even their peaks looked smooth and inviting rather than jagged and forbidding. I realized later that “south” was inappropriate, being a silly notion on another plane, but it seemed right at the time.

The thin grass in the area was dotted by palm trees. The mix of vegetation was a bit odd but didn’t seem completely impossible. The ocean we heard was not an ocean but seemed to be more of an inland sea as the land seemed to reach around the water as it went off into the horizon.

On the next hill over was a human boy. He seemed to be about fourteen and wore simple brown robes. In his lap was an ornate lantern. Around him flew a dozen kites, but their strings seemed to end in mid-air with no one holding them. But behind the hill he sat on, I saw the glint of polished armor from someone behind the hill. Valanthe and I pointed at it in unison.

We called out and waved at the boy, and he waved back. We approached him calmly and without threat. As we did, from behind the hill a massive figure of a man came forward. His plate armor glinted off the sun and he wore a full visor, hiding his face. The emblem of Pelor was clearly engraved on his chestplate. He stood between us and the boy, defensive though he carried no visible weapon.

“Identify yourselves” he declared.

Dravot stood forward and did so in a friendly, non-challenging way. The guardian said “I see you bear a symbol. May I examine it?” Having seen the cache of tainted holy symbols, we were hardly surprised. Dravot handed over his icon and the guardian raised his visor, revealing white hair and eyes glowing with a golden light. He turned it over in his hands and examined it closely. In short order he was satisfied and said “Only you may approach.”

The boy chimed in, saying “Sir Ferris, there’s no reason to be quite so rude. Please, all of you, be welcome. I haven’t had company for … a long time. Other than Sir Ferris of course.”

We had some pleasant simple conversation. The boy’s name was Aedan and he talked of kites and of dragons, though he’d never actually seen one. Valanthe and I looked at each other and asked if he’d like to see one and offered to make an illusion for him. After a bit of idle chatter, Aedan looked at Dravot.

“So are you the one who’s supposed to take this?” looking briefly at the lantern in his lap.

Dravot looked at it, all at once uncertain how to answer. “I suppose that I am.” I had to admire the fact that Dravot has never become so sure of himself as to start thinking of himself as charged with divine purpose, even though he is. He has the modesty of a true hero. Without any further ceremony, the boy hands him the lantern, and the hill scene fades away, replaced by a small cloister room. The scene was something that the lantern created to indulge Aedan it seems. Aedan still looked like a normal boy, though with a hint of a suffuse golden glow behind his iris’.

The lantern was also quite in need of recharging, as we had been lead to believe. Aedan repeated the lesson (with all the zeal of any schoolboy) about the litany of the Light of Reason. “Only one who is pure of heart and dedicated to the principles of Pelor may bear the lantern without injury. He who bears the lantern may take it into the presence of the Pyre of Pelor. He who does so will not be burned alive nor smitten by the holy aura that surriounds it. He may then light the lantern and restore its power.”

I would hardly have been surprised if the boy added “Bla bla bla.”

Aedan knew the location of the pyre and lead us back up the stairs. He was quite surprised at the scene in the room above – he had fled down here during the initial attack and all this had changed since he was forgotten below. The stairs to the Pyre were beneath the other adamantite floor panel. The planetar had told us it would be unwise for us to tamper with them, but since we now had the Light of Reason, it all seemed clear. Mirroring the planetar in his own way, Aethramyr drove Shatterspike through the panel and shattered it into fragments. A wave of divine warmth rushed from the new set of stairs before us.

[OOC Note: at this point, I told Dravot to look inside the lantern and see if he could see us in there. He did so and got dizzy. Thus leading us back to the old adage “Do you plan on taking any levels of Alienist? Because doing things like that is how you get there!”]

Dravot descended the staircase alone and the heat and light intensified as he did so. The lantern began to pulse in resonance with the energy. The walls, originally stone, looked as though they had been in a great kiln, and were melted and glazed together. Dravot descended for several minutes, arriving at a massive iron pillar that stood in his way.

No. Not a pillar. A leg.

The golem stood over eighty feet tall, but the glow of a miniature sun could still be seen flowing around it. Dravot could only see to the tops of the feet however. But then a massive iron hand came down, blocking the light from the Pyre. Slowly, the eyes cracked open and light shone out on Dravot, examining his worth. A deep rumbling echoed throughout the cavern, and only slowly did Dravot realize it was the golem speaking. It said only one word.

Yes

It withdrew its hand, and stood back up and took a step back, allowing him to pass. Dravot approached the Pyre, like a flame swimming upwards. The column of energy was an armspan wide and twenty feet high, jetting out from a fissure in the earth. The lantern was pulsing more now, almost craving to be lit once again. Dravot thrust it into the fire, and the lantern drank of the divine energy within. The lantern then burst forth its own light and Dravot pulled it from the Pyre and a holy power suffused the area.*

Also, Dravot could feel his Mark of Fire now revealed. It was yellowish in color and had migrated to his neck. Dravot returned with the lit lantern and the holy golden light washed over us all**, and all eyes went to the Mark of Fire now revealed on Dravot’s neck. I was uncertain what would happen when the marks became active, but I was sure it would be better to have before bracing the ShadowTaker. Scorch went first, and Dravot touched the lantern to Scorch, who’s mark began glowing on his shoulder a dull red but was otherwise unchanged. Bolo went next, and the Mark was revealed on his forehead. It was not the Mark of Fire but the Mark of Earth however.

Valanthe’s Mark was revealed in white on the back of her hand, shining against her black skin. For me, the Mark of Fire took the place of my Archer’s Nock on the back of my hand. It was like a subtle scar, pinkish on my hand and looked natural.

Aethramyr demurred. Pelor was not his goddess and he felt it would be wrong to impose on Pelor in such a way. The choice was his to make of course and we accepted. For a time I felt embarrassed – Pelor was not my god either. However I later realized I have acted on Pelor’s behalf at times, and if he had chosen, he could have withheld his boon. So I accepted things as they have happened, knowing full well that Corellion can make his wishes plain if he has need, and following my heart until then.

We then had the issue of weapons of power. The Pyre was said to be one source that could infuse power into items beyond the normal measures. Dravot gathered up his mace, Valanthe’s blades, Shatterspike, and my bow. He took the items to the Pyre, and held each within. When he returned, it was easy to tell the weapons had been infused with the power of the Pyre. None of them were damaged, though it was clear they could have been sundered by such power. It is not something I would care to repeat for fear the bow would shatter, but for the time being, the weapons had magic beyond what the Art could grant.***

Dravot focused his mind on the curse afflicting Zera and Zara. It turns out the curse is actually a protection extended by the Lantern. Now that it is in proper hands, the protection can be lifted, and the curse was ended and Zera was free of any influence by the ShadowTaker. Zara was still hanging above us, and would, it seems, need to be released by other methods.

After each being touched by the Light of Reason, we found ourselves refreshed and our minds renewed. The spellcasters took some time to get their spells renewed in their minds, each to his own method. We were now well prepared to press on. Of course there was the matter of Aedan. We didn't wish to leave him and we couldn't take him with us. Dravot solved the problem by plane shifting him to the Elysian Fields where he could hopefully be at ease, his burden ended.

It occurs to me that perhaps this is why the ShadowTaker tried to bargain with us there – he knew we were close to the Light of Reason, and with it we would surely come for him. If he could have diverted us, he could have avoided much uncertainty about what was to come. We now had the means of the ShadowTaker’s destruction in our hands, but we still had to complete our task. We examined the areas around the prison chamber and found little of interest, save a corridor leading out of the area. It was blocked by a transluscent door, trapped with a Wail of the Banshee. The same spell that had killed Valanthe. She took out some special tuning forks and disabled the trap, then spat on it for good measure. Another door ahead had the same trap, and received identical treatment.

We passed through an iris door, and it shut behind me as Valanthe was moving ahead. Then water started pouring in from concealed holes. I looked at her as the water was rising to our ankles and she shrugged with slight embarrassment. She quickly worked to bore a hole in the door and let the water of the trap spill into the hallway, and I had the good sense to stand back and let her work. She quickly got things under control then got the doors open again.

Beyond this area was a large chamber. It was worked in marble and seemed to be some kind of grand reception hall. The chamber rose gradually on small sets of marble stairs at intervals. Lining the walls were all sorts of dolls and mannequins. Some were decorated, some not. They were porcelain, fetish dolls, and every other type you could imagine.

We all smelled some kind of trap. We had the lantern now – the ShadowTaker would have to stop us by any means necessary, no matter how expensive it was. And we weren’t disappointed. Something burst up from the floor as we entered. It was like a gigantic puppet, made like some kind of huge shark with small feet. It had rows of long teeth framed in a beard that hung down and its long body coiled through the far end of the room. The eyes started out with intelligence and malice and then energy began crackling across its back and it released a spray of lightning down the hallway.

The storm of lighting broke over us without being nearly as bad as it looked. The creature however did not look like something to be trifled with and we waited until Scorch’s mass haste touched us before moving in.

The creature was smart and fierce and the battle was pitched. It was absorbing an amazing amount of punishment and not showing any signs of slowing down. Valanthe’s dragon-bane blade was cutting deep gashes but the beast still kept coming. Scorch was lobbing sonics into the room while Bolo’s flame strikes rolled off the puppet. I was having a hard time making clean shots, and started firing multiple arrows per draw but taking more time to aim. Valanthe was also employing her shadows to good effect, slowly but surely sapping the creature’s strength.

Then the creature snapped out on its serpentine neck and swallowed Dravot in a gulp. And that was the end. It was over. The creature didn’t know it yet, but it was dead. The last thing any monster wants to do is swallow Dravot.

The creature began bellowing and the winds roared in answer. But before it could call whatever storm it had in mind, Aethramyr brought Shatterspike down hard and the creature reeled and the storm dissipated. We continued to press the attack, waiting for the beast to explode from the inside. Valanthe’s blades flashed on one side while I landed arrows into the puppet’s joints and Scorch fired a sonic cone and still the beast was going strong.

Then it stopped and a shiver ran down the length of its body. It fell back a single step, then collapsed in a heap, its strings cut. As the magic unraveled, so too did the puppet, and wood shattered and splintered while metal tore with a shriek. The creature flew apart, sending parts everywhere. There revealed was Dravot, who dusted himself off as if he’d just come in from a horseback ride.

At the creature’s death, all the other dolls and puppets began to slowly move and come to life. The began shuffling our way with disjointed movements. Scorch yelled out some kind of challenge and released a sonic meteor swarm and the puppets on one side of the room were reduced to pieces no bigger than a walnut. Even for Scorch, that seemed a bit excessive. He hoards his powerful spells so closely I couldn’t understand why he just let one fly. I opened fire on the dolls and they fell apart with only an arrow each, and we easily reduced the remaining ones to pieces with hardly an effort. And Scorch still looked like he’d have used another meteor swarm if he’d had it, his remaning eye with a slightly crazed glint hiding in it.

Looking over the dragon-esque puppet, I said loudly “I bet that was . . . expensive,” and just grinned.

The door on the far end of the chamber was trapped with a disjunction spell but was eliminated by Valanthe. The door opened to reveal a throne room. On the throne was a lich. The ShadowTaker sat, waiting for us, alone.

Well not entirely alone. To one side, waiting and invisible, were five Mariliths, one of whom was noticeably bigger than the others. To the other side were eight gelugons, also with a pack leader and similarly invisible.

I clearly remember the last thought I had before the fight broke out. “That is SO not the ShadowTaker.”



* The lantern now gives off the effect of a Holy Aura for a forty foot radius, and the effects of a Bless spell for another twenty feet, for all allies within the area.

** In brightest day
In blackest night
No evil shall avoid my sight
(giggles madly and runs off)

*** The weapons are temporarily +6 weapons. We don’t know how long it will last.

 

[Argent Silvermage]

A Gift and a Warning

Bolo looked at the Lantern in awe. Dravot looked like he had been cleansed and reborn within the Pyre and the lantern was holding a small portion of that energy itself.
He watched as Scorch touched the lantern and his Mark of Fire awoke on his sholder.
It was his turn. Bolo stepped up to the light of reason and touched his lips to it in a show of reverance to Pelor's gift.

Suddenly he was in a small cave/building and sitting in front of him were the 3 women who he served. Yondalla was the first to speak.
"Dearest Bolo, I watched as you were born and as your father and mother raised you. I have seem all and been most pleased. It was both my pleasure and my loss that you chose to worship Ehlonna over me, but I have never left your side. I am here to let you know that I will always love you for the Halfling that you truly are." The mother of all Halflings resplendent in her simple frock and holding her cornicopia/shield stepped back and allowed the youngest woman approach. "Thank you mother of my people. I will always honor you." Bolo said to her.
"Ehlonna!" Bolo cried, "My lady how may I be of service."
Ehlonna looked at Bolo with a look of concern. "Bolo I am concerned that you are loosing your way. You have killed ruthlessly and have devoted yourself so wholey to the cause of the green that you are neglecting your duties to your friends and family."
"What do you mean? Have I not been faithful to your word? Isn't killing Slaad and those Frog creatures a good thing?" the druid asked.
"I ask you. What happened to the loving Halfling that I raised? Has he changed so much because of his outward form is now that of the chosen people of his Goddess?" Yondalla said from behind the others.
"I'm still that person! I just have so much responsibility now. I have lives to save and people to feed. I never wanted to be the Grand Druid!" Bolo said back.
"And you never will be without staying true to who you are." Beory said walking up and standing next to Ehlonna. "You are showing signs that youi are not following the ways of the greater good. I can understand that and will welcome you into my fold if you decide to accept the ballance of nature in all its forms."

"I cannot do that. I'm a good being and will remain so. The world does not have to be so dark as we have seen." Bolo said. "Ehlonna, my lady please forgive me. I will try harder."

Bolo felt the fire on his forehead and drew his face away from the flames. It had been an illusion, or was it?

 

[dravot]

Shadowtaker’s Crypts: The Light of Reason

I now possess a true artifact of my God and my church. It is a truly humbling experience, and at the same time, I feel absolutely alive with power and the possibilities that stretch before me. I expected that taking it in my hands would be a bigger deal, but it was like picking up any other enchanted item. I felt a warm glow, like I was basking in the sun on a warm day, but it wasn’t until I put the lantern into the Flame of Faith that I came to appreciate the power of the artifact.

I find it hard to get the lich-foe’s taunts out of my mind. I have done my best to present an impassive and dedicated presence, both before the ShadowTaker and before my compatriots, but I have had nagging doubts. Those doubts are now gone, and in their place I find only a zealous hatred of everything that our enemy has done; to us; to my church, and to the Flaeness as a whole.

I know that the artifact is an instrument of good; that is it exists to do good things. It certainly did when it helped me to sever Zira from the ShadowTaker’s puppetstrings. At the same time, all I can think of is it’s use as a weapon, as a hammer to crush my enemies and make things safe for everyone. Surely, this is a good thing, and yet I cannot let go of the inherent contradiction present before me.

I look forward to his final death, that we might be able to return this place to it’s peaceful origins. Goodness knows that my tolerance and patience are wearing thin.

I must go. Valanthe is heading forward to begin scouting. I hope that this ends soon.

------------------------
The Light of Reason

The Light of Reason is an artifact of Pelor, a lantern crafted by Henfar, a silversmith of the town of Sesstis Ro. It contains a small part of Pelor's Pyre, a powerful flame of white fire that emanates on the Prime at the will of Pelor.

Anyone holding the lantern gains the benefit of (essentially) an empowered Holy Aura (+6 deflection bonus, +6 resistance bonus to saves, SR 37 against evil spells and spells cast by evil creatures. Evil creatures succeeding in melee strikes must make a Fort Save 24 or be blinded).

Good aligned creatures within a 30' radius of the lantern gain most of the benefits of Holy Aura (+4 deflection bonus, +4 resistance bonus to saves, SR 25 vs. evil spells, no blinding effect).

Good creatures 30'-60' from the lantern gain the benefits of Bless

Light, 30' radius as the Daylight spell.