Adventures in the Eastern Provinces

As our heroes cross the rope bridges on their way back onto the plateau atop which the Garden of Graves is built, Karl notes, “It looks as though we've explored most of the buildings.” He points. “But not that section in the middle.”

“Remember that door hidden behind a tapestry?” Sepia says.

Shar snaps her fingers. “That's right. We haven't explored past that yet. We got distracted by the secret door.”

“And it looks like it's in the right area,” Shifty adds.

The party returns to the room with the tapestries and heads down the passage they found previously, Kane and PHUQ-69 in the lead. It ends in a door. Kane throws it open. The chamber beyond is semicurcular and covered in runes. The far end contains a raised dais topped with a huge pile of stones, resembling a cairn made from grave markers. Three smaller cairns lie on the dais in front of the gigantic one.

“Those are more of the stones from outside,” Shar mutters.

Moab sniffs. “Obviously.”

A door leads out opposite the dais. P-69 throws it open, revealing another chamber. Two walls intersect in the middle of it, forming a cross; they don't seem to serve any architectural purpose. Greenery somehow flourishes in here, despite the lack of significant natural light. Large patches of ivy cover substantial areas.

“Look!” The shardmind points.

An enormous set of rune-covered double doors leads out of the right hand wall. It looks like the doors depicted in the tapestry two rooms back.

The party moves into the chamber, but as they do, Sepia hisses a warning. “Behind us!”

There is a clattering noise, the clank of shifting stones. Our heroes turn. Behind them, the markers making up the cairns are moving, being pushed outward as things emerge from underneath. From the three smaller cairns, undead knights rise, garbed in chain mail armor and armed with longswords. But the horror that emerges from the larger pile of stones is far more gruesome: the flayed skin of a giant, bloody on the inside.

The party rushes back to face their foes. But as they do, something happens behind them. A stretch of the ivy begins writhing, twisting together to form something- first what likes like an eyestalk, and then a huge shambling body made of twining ivy and branches. Tendrils of thorns whip around it, slashing through the air; questing roots wind around everything near it.

Assailed from both sides, our heroes find themselves pressed hard once again. Everyone close to the ivy monster finds themselves constantly entangled by the roots, and the thorns irritate wounds taken near it. Its vines lash out, squeezing with terrific strength and grabbing at our heroes.

Shifty tumbles past them all, rushing to the double doors. He whips out the key. Hopefully, I disarmed whatever lightning trap is on this thing when I touched the lock on the tapestry, he thinks, but I'd best be ready in case I need to do something else.

But the doors push open easily. A hall stretches away.

Whatever is going on here, this is the key. This is the center of it all.

Shifty runs forward. At the end of the hallway, there is a door to the right. He throws it open.

“What the hell is that?” he exclaims.

Decorated in runes, some sort of strange device stands in the room, a mess of iron and wooden struts interconnecting beneath a pyramidal peak topped with a glowing emerald. Whatever it is, the thing looks delicate. More runes adorn the walls, floor, and ceiling, forming a pattern that centers on the eldritch machine.

Whatever it is, I think it's responsible for the trouble here.

Outside, Kane cuts down one zombie knight while P-69 demolishes another. The two wizards and Sepia focus on the ivy monster, while Bradford makes a valiant stand against the flayed skin.

Things aren't going so well.

The third undead knight cleaves Sepia with his sword, badly wounding her. The giant skin attempts to rip Bradford's skin from his body; the poor fellow drops, unable to withstand the pain of the attack. And the ivy monster proves to be a tremendous threat, capable of reaching a full 40' with its vines. It clobbers Kane and P-69 hard.

Things are looking fairly dire. Sepia goes down; then Kane. P-69 manages to take out the third undead warrior, but the skin monster slaps Moab hard enough that he sees stars and grabs him.

Then Karl unleashes a lucky fireball that catches the skin perfectly*. It drops, burning and smoking. But unfortunately, it also catches Bradford. Already unconscious, he is killed instantly.

But the ivy monster remains, and it rampages through the party, dealing telling wounds.

Shar manages to get Kane back in the fight with a healing word, but then the ivy monster delivers another terrific blow to P-69 and the shardmind falls. Things are looking dire.

At the same moment, Shifty makes his move, smashing the delicate-looking machine with his crowbar. Struts snap and one whole side of it sags inward. Immediately there is a flash of brilliant light, emanating from the emerald on top of the device, almost blinding Shifty. From an unimaginable distance, the gnome thinks he can almost hear a shriek of frustration.

Who the hell was behind this? he wonders.

Meanwhile, just as Shar is about to retreat to save herself, the ivy monster abruptly rears back and collapses inward on itself, moldering away to brown sludge in only a few seconds.

Saved! Bless you, Shifty! she thinks. Wherever he went, he must have done something that stopped the monster.

Speaking of whom- Shifty returns a moment later, and together, the two of them, Moab, and Karl bind everyone else's wounds and bring them around.

After the group takes a few minutes to rest, Shifty shows them the eldritch engine that he destroyed. There are a number of gems, including the emerald, built into it; the party takes those gems as booty.

“Do you think that fixed whatever the problem here was?” Shar asks.

Both Moab and Karl confirm that the rune-work around the place is no longer functioning. And after poking around a bit more, the group verifies that there isn't anywhere else that they haven't explored.

“All right,” Karl says, “back to our resting place so that we can try to raise Bradford.”

***

The Garden of Graves cost them dearly, but thanks to Karl's ritual, not permanently. Bradford's eyes flutter and open with a groan. “What happened?”

“We kicked ass is what happened,” Sepia says proudly.

***

Their return to Moonstair is marred by a horrible slip up.

They are attacked by shambling mounds. Though the party easily defeats them, during the fight, P-69 accidentally hurls his morningstar away into the thickets on a steep slope. Afterward, try though they might, the party can't find it.

PHUQ-69 utters a string of inventive curses in ancient Miloxi.

***

Our heroes return home as a cold and hungry winter sets in. They decide not to head south to the Delphinate until spring. While they wait out the winter, they handle administrative tasks, mediate disputes, and do their best to ensure that food is distributed so that nobody starves.

They can't quite pull it off. Starting in January, there is a long stretch of time where there simply isn't enough to eat. People grow thin. The weakest die, unable to survive the deprivation.

“Being Governor kind of sucks sometimes,” Shifty tells Shar, who agrees whole heartedly.

During the winter, Karl can't stop speculating about what Quah-Nomag is up to. More importantly, his master, Deryndradin, is long overdue; and though Karl issues several sendings to him, he receives no response. He fears the worst.

Shifty, meanwhile, spends more time pondering the party's most recent adventure. He doubts whether Quah-Nomag was behind it; it doesn't seem to fit with anything else he's done. Therefore, it was probably someone else. But who?

***

On January 23rd, the party strikes out, leaving Bradford in charge of their lands. Though appreciative of their trust, the young man is apprehensive about being left in charge. “You'll do fine,” Shifty assures him, and Shar nods.

“If in doubt, just ask yourself what we'd do.”

***

As the party sits around their campfire on their first night of the journey, a voice comes out of the dark. “Hello, friends.”

Kane whips his sword from its sheath. “Show yourself!” he barks.

“No need to worry. It is only I.” A squat figure steps from the darkness: Nom, the dwarf who the party has met on several occasions when radiocrystals were involved.

“Hello again,” says Karl.

The party offers Nom some dinner. He politely accepts, offering a skin of fine dwarven ale in return. After a pleasant meal, he wipes his beard, then says, “I have come with an offer from my friends.”

“The ones who have helped us with those crystals?” asks Shifty.

Nom nods. “You have done the world a great service each time you've turned those devices over to us. We truly appreciate your actions. And we'd like to offer you the opportunity to join us.”

Shar speaks up. “Who are you, exactly?”

“We're called the Crystal Breakers. We're dedicated to finding and safely disposing of as many radiocrystal artifacts as possible, as well as sites tainted with radiation.”

“And just what would be expected of us?”

“Only that, should you encounter more radiocrystal devices or areas or things related to them, you inform the group and help fulfill our primary mission. We won't demand that you carry out our bidding or anything like that. Although, before you join, there is an initiation.”

Moab speaks up. “What's all this, then?”

Nom notes the wizard for the first time. “I'm sorry, I didn't notice you. I don't believe we've met... and I'm afraid my offer doesn't include you.” He spreads his hands apologetically. “Although perhaps, in the future...”

“That's fine,” Moab sniffs. “Besides, I don't need to join any primitive secret society anyway. Destroying what you don't understand! Hmph!”

“What's the nature of the initiation?” asks Karl.

“There is a monster- a radioactive hydra. It's south of here, along the edge of the desert. Kill it, and you're in.” He stands up. “And if you do, you'll all be rewarded. Again, except for you- sorry. Nothing personal.”

Moab sniffs again.

***

En route to the hydra- and then the Delphinate- our heroes run into a hunting party of goliaths. Most of them remember Cavemouth with mixed emotions. Klucktim, the burly female leading the party, turns out to be his sister. Relations deteriorate between the heroes and the goliaths when this comes out, and the fact that they failed to save Cavemouth from dying almost leads to violence. Moab's enchantments come in handy here, helping to prevent a fight from breaking out, and the party leaves the goliaths bristling and hostile. They won't be friendly to the group's burgeoning state.

***

Following Nom's directions, the party comes to a bone-strewn box canyon set into an area of badlands. A stinking cave serves as the hydra's lair; when the party makes enough noise outside, they draw it out.

It is terrifying. Bigger than an elephant, its four heads spewing radioactive clouds, the monster lays into the party immediately. They defend themselves, and at first, things go well. Strangely, it doesn't grow any new heads. But once it is sufficiently wounded, it splits into four single-headed serpentine monsters.

Kane shouts, “Foul demons! We will put each of you to the sword!”

In the end, he's right.

***

After their victory over the hydra, Nom reappears. He congratulates them. “You're Crystal Breakers now.”

He gives each of them- again, except Moab- an item crafted by a member of the society. “If we had known about you,” he says to the desert wizard.

Moab just scowls.

Shifty receives a gnomeblade. It looks like an ornamental knife made of pewter, completely unfunctional. The hilt is fashioned to look like a rabbit, with rhinestones in its eyes.

Shar receives a leaden symbol- a holy symbol made of unpainted and unadorned lead.

Karl is given leaden bracers set with jet and diamonds. They glow with a faint orange light. “These are bracers of the crystal breaker,” Nom tells him.

Sepia gets a pair of brass knuckles- well, lead knuckles, really. Each knuckle is worked into the shape of a dog. Despite being made of lead, they are harder than steel.

Kane receives a set of hide armor made from owlbear hide, complete with claws and beak. It is bloodstained and patched. “This is called Unceasing Violence.”

Finally, P-69 is given a morning star called Meteor. When swung through the air, a momentary trail of scarlet light follows it.

Next Time: To the Delphinate!


*Crit with a fireball! How satisfying. One of the beautiful things about 4e- you can crit with a fireball.


The stats on the items the party received are as follows:

GNOMEBLADE --- Level 15 Rare
This little dagger looks as though it is purely ornamental, with a blade that looks like some kind of weak, decorative metal rather than functional steel. The hilt is fashioned to look like a rabbit, with rhinestones in its eyes.
Lvl 15 --- +3 --- 25,000 gp
Weapon: Dagger
Enhancement: Attack rolls and damage rolls.
Critical: +3d6 damage and you are invisible to the target until the start of its next turn.
Property: You can use the gnomeblade as an implement with arcane or shadow powers. You do not apply the dagger's proficiency bonus when you use it as an implement, but you do apply its enhancement bonus.
Property: While you are wielding the gnomeblade, you gain a +1 item bonus to Reflex.
Power (Encounter): Minor action. Make a saving throw.
Power (Daily): Move action. You teleport 5 squares and your fade away racial power recharges.

LEADEN SYMBOL --- Level 15 Rare
This symbol is heavy and is composed of unpainted and unadorned lead.
Lvl 15 --- +3 --- 25,000 gp
Implement (Holy Symbol)
Enhancement: Attack rolls and damage rolls.
Critical: +3d6 damage.
Property: You and adjacent creatures gain resist 1 radiation.
Property: You and adjacent creatures gain resist 5 radiant.
Property: You and allies within 10 squares get a +3 bonus on death saves.
Power (Encounter): Immediate reaction. Trigger: You or an ally that you can see within 10 squares is slowed, immobilized or restrained. Effect: The condition ends.
Power (Daily): Free action. Trigger: You hit with an implement power using this symbol. Effect: One target that you hit with the power is also immobilized (save ends).

BRACERS OF THE CRYSTAL BREAKER --- Level 15 Rare
These leaden bracers are set with jet and diamonds and glow with a faint orange light.
Lvl 15 --- 25,000 gp
Item Slot: Arms
Property: You gain resist 1 radiation.
Property: You gain resist 5 poison and 5 radiant.
Property: You feel a warning tingle if there is radiation within 10 squares strong enough to inflict RADs. You can get a basic feel for its strength (whether it inflicts RADs per round, minute, hour or day) and can determine the location of the radiation. You may sometimes be able to detect even fainter background radiation with a Perception check, depending on its strength.
Property: When you score a critical hit with an implement power, you deal an extra 1d10 fire and radiant damage.
Property: You get a +1 item bonus to attack rolls with implement powers with the fire, radiant or zone keywords.
Power (Daily): Free action. Trigger: You create a zone with an arcane implement power. Effect: In addition to its other effects, the zone deals 5 points of radiant and fire damage to each creature within it in when it appears.
Power (Daily): No action. You use your Intelligence for a skill check instead of the ability normally associated with that skill.

LEAD KNUCKLES --- Level 15 Rare
These brass knuckles are actually made of lead. Each knuckle is fashioned to resemble the head of a dog. Despite being lead, the knuckles are not at all soft.
Lvl 15 --- +3 --- 25,000 gp
Weapon: Brass knuckles
Enhancement: Attack rolls and damage rolls.
Critical: +3d10 damage and the target is stunned until the end of your next turn.
Property: You get a +3 item bonus to damage.
Property: Whenever you are pushed, pulled or slid, you reduce the number of squares that you move by 3.
Power (Encounter): Free action. Trigger: You hit an enemy with the lead knuckles. Effect: The target is dazed (save ends).

UNCEASING VIOLENCE --- Level 15 Rare
This armor is made from the hides of owlbears, with claws and beak inset to increase its menacing appearance. It is well-stained and shows the signs of having been repaired after many battles.
Lvl 15 --- +3 --- 25,000 gp
Armor: Hide armor.
Enhancement: AC.
Property: Whenever you spend a healing surge, you may make a basic attack as a free action.
Property: Whenever you bloody or drop an enemy, you regain hit points equal to your Strength bonus.
Power (Daily * Healing): Minor action. You spend a healing surge.

METEOR --- Level 15 Rare
This morning star, forged of starmetal, is worked to resemble a flaming meteor. When you swing it through the air, a momentary trail of red light follows it in the air.
Lvl 15 --- +3 --- 25,000 gp
Weapon: Morning star
Enhancement: Attack rolls and damage rolls.
Critical: +3d8 fire damage and the target falls prone.
Property: If you hit a prone enemy with a melee attack with Meteor, you deal an extra 1d8 damage.
Property: When you charge you can move your speed +3 squares.
Power (Encounter): Free action. Trigger: You hit an enemy with a melee attack. Effect: After all other effects of the hit are resolved, the target falls prone.
Power (Daily): Minor action. An adjacent prone enemy cannot stand up (save ends).

Once out of their lands, our heroes, according to Moab, have a journey of around 200 miles ahead of them. But the enchanter promises that it will be worth it. He tells them that the Delphinate is a magical place where the arcane arts have been harnessed for the good of society. “Our streets are lit at night,” he claims, “by magic. Everywhere, the influence of the intelligentsia is clear.”

The ruling class, he continues, is wizards. In fact, if you aren't a wizard, you can't become a citizen.

“What about sorcerers?” asks Karl.

Moab sniffs. “Someone who can blindly tap into arcane energies is hardly worthy of the same consideration as someone who spends years of study to learn precise control over those energies. If you give a baby a set of cymbals, it will certainly make noise. But a trained player can create music.”

“What about clerics?” asks Shar.

Moab sniffs again. “You mean warlocks?” Glancing at her, he adds, “No offense.”

***

They skirt the Pale Woods, having heard rumors that they are haunted and having no desire to deal with such things unnecessarily. They'd rather have an easy, uneventful journey across the rolling plains, even if they must sometimes fight through grasses taller than Shifty's head. Finally, the desert comes into view. Surrounding it are large stone monuments, spaced a mile apart, forming a visible boundary. Each monument shows a male eladrin wizard, a rogueish looking halfling and a dwarven monk with an inscription reading, “LET THIS BE A GRIM REMINDER OF THE COST OF DEFYING THE SWORD EMPEROR.”

“I'm pretty sure that those are three of the Sword Emperor's old companions,” Karl states. “The elf was Baron Lillamere. The halfing was Gerontius, called the Invisible Blade. And the dwarf was the Perfect Master Chakar.”

“It's called the Grim Reminder,” says Moab. He gestures to the desert beyond. “The desert is called the Warning. It's the result of magical conflict. The Sword Emperor and his allies unleashed tremendous energies here to quash a rebellion.”

As they move into the Warning, they find that the ground is composed of gritty particles larger and rougher than sand. Moab continues to narrate as they travel. “The peculiar material underfoot formed when the former soil melted and was blasted by epic magic. Over the subsequent centuries, dust and other particles blew in on the wind and stabilized the underlayer.”

Some hardy succulents and cacti grow in the desiccated ground, but a lot of the desert looks relatively lifeless. Periodically, the party passes the skeletal remains of great war machines or structures.

***

The desert is not as lifeless as it first appears. Giant yellow scorpions, tail stingers dripping venom, emerge from behind shifting dunes to attack the travelers, seeking an easy meal. Some are the size of goats; the larger specimens are more like the size of an elephant.

They find the meal more difficult to obtain than expected, and are soon slain or driven back. The party is somewhat battered, but nobody is badly wounded, and after some tending from Shar, they continue their journey.

Warlock indeed, she thinks.

***

Far more dangerous than the scorpions, the desert's self-proclaimed master arrives from the sky. Sparks burst from its claws as it walks toward the group; when if flexes its great wings, the grit around it dances, raising a haze in the air.

A dragon. Huge, dark blue, with gleaming intelligent eyes and a large horn on the end of its snout.

Kane draws his sword, but Shar restrains him. “That thing looks too big for us to handle,” she murmurs.

“Yes!” Shifty proclaims. “Let's parlay!”

***

The dragon is, fortunately, not hungry. Yet it claims ownership of the desert, and demands tribute to allow the group to walk across its lands.

“How did you handle this before?” Karl mutters to Moab.

The wizard looks back at him. “I paid it.”

Shar, Sepia, and Karl flatter the dragon, and the group unloads a substantial amount of money and residuum as tribute.

“Unsatisfactory,” it booms.

They add a collection of minor magic items in their collective possession, the kinds of things that are bound for disenchantment and recycling into more residuum. Instead, they become part of the group's offering.

“Hmm,” the dragon rumbles. It measures them with its eyes, inhales their scent.

Finally, it announces, “This is a very light tribute. Nonetheless, I will accept it. But should you cross my territory again, you must bring a proper offering, or I will devour you!”

“Yes, Your Mightiness!” cries Shifty, cutting Kane off before he can bark back at the dragon. “We would not dare defy you!”

***

Four days into the Warning, the group's path winds past a leveled sandstone building. Large drifts of sand cover much of it, and both its walls and ceiling have fallen. Huge piles of sandstone blocks are scattered near it. Large cacti, bristling with needles, grow here and there in the area.

It seems like a good place to stop for lunch, but this proves to be incorrect. As the group settles in, something huge stirs beneath the sands. It erupts forth, covered in sand, wrapped in tattered bandages, with a cephalopod head and long tentacles wrenching its way free of the sands.

“Run!” cries Karl. “I recognize that thing!”

The party stands and begins to flee. “What is it?” asks P-69.

“It's an ancient war weapon called a crawling apocalypse! We had better hope that it isn't able to move for long...”

There is a sudden howl of winds, rushing away from the crawling apocalypse. They are so strong that they knock half of the party prone.

The monster rushes forward, its tentacles lashing all around it.

Seeing that half of their number can't escape it, Shifty, Sepia, and P-69 stop their flight and turn to face the monster. But as they approach it, apocalyptic terror grips them, and they can feel their life draining as they come closer to it. Those struck by its tentacles also find their life force ebbing, dwindling away moment by moment.

On the bright side, Shar immediately finds that it is fairly vulnerable to radiant damage, and her iron to glass prayer shifts the odds in the group's favor. And with both P-69 and Kane standing toe to toe with the monster, the party is finally able to prevail after a long, hard battle.

After the fight is won, our panting heroes slump down in the sand. With a groan, Shifty says, “I could barely hurt that thing!”

Kane grins. “You should have come closer.”

“No thanks!”

***

The grit underfoot is easier to trudge through than sand would be, but it gives and crumbles underfoot far more than the ground the party is used to. The journey is more taxing and slower than anyone other than Moab (a desert native) could have expected.

Though they do find occasional life- mostly lizards and desert insects- most of the time, their only company is each other. They continue to get to know Moab, whose excitement at nearing his home is palpable. He isn't trying to be insulting, but the way he refers to the Delphinate makes it clear that he views it as the last bastion of civilization, and sees their lands as savage and primitive.

Perhaps he is right, Karl thinks. We'll see soon enough, I guess.

***

As they struggle to get a fire to burn with the limited fuel available that night, they meet a group of strange creatures- insects, but humanoid, and taller than a human. These strange mantis-warriors call themselves thri-kreen. The contact is peaceful, with the insect folk informing the group that a small enclave of elven griffon-riders called the Kree are ahead, at the far edge of the Warning.

“Perhaps we can make an alliance with them,” Shifty says.

Moab nods. “Or at least get them to ferry us across the Ravaged Belt.”

“What's that?”

“Another region devastated by magical attack. It's a series of old mountains that is now just malformed rock twisted into jagged spires, deep gulleys and the like. It's full of a variety of monsters. It is best to avoid it if possible, so a ride across would be exactly what we need.”

***

Several days later, the adventurers finally reach the far edge of the Warning, where the Ravaged Belt lies. It is more foreboding than Moab's description could have prepared them for. Many of the twisted peaks look like they were melted by the fury of the magic unleashed upon them. Strange streamers of stone look almost like strands of molten taffy frozen mid-drip. Deep clefts and strange pock marks mar the ground.

Fortunately, the Kree elves soon arrive, wheeling overhead on their griffons. After a few moments of observing from above, two of them descend. These prove to be a pair of blue-skinned sisters named Tarr-Kal and Nima-Kal. They inquire as to the party's business, goals, and destination; though polite, they are cool.

“We're going back to my homeland,” Moab tells them. “To the Delphinate.”

“Your folk are not known for being especailly welcoming to outsiders,” Tarr-Kal observes.

“True, but I am a citizen on a mission.”

“Any chance you'd be willing to ferry us across the Ravaged Belt?” Shar asks.

“Since your alternative is to deal with the twisted monsters within,” the Kree responds, “we will help you- for a small fee.”

***

Riding on the back of a griffon is exhilirating. The wind buffets Shifty's face, makes his eyes tear up. It's colder than he expected, especially given the heat of the desert. The thrill alone is worth the twenty gold the Kree demanded for each of the party's members, not to mention the fact that they are coming closer to their destination.

When the elves deposit the party back on the ground on the far side of the Ravaged Belt, our heroes thank them profusely. Shifty, in particular, can't get over how much fun the ride was.

“You've only got about sixty miles to go,” one of the Kree tells them. “Good luck.” And with that, the griffons take the air again, banking away back to the north.

***

They keep their distance from the foul smoke that rises from the Basin of Fire and its lava pools. Karl ponders the enormity of the magical destruction unleashed on and around the Warning. Perhaps the golden age of magic had its drawbacks, but I'd still rather that we had access to the kinds of arcane powers that were available during the empire's height. He sighs. Maybe when we reach the Delphinate...

It takes a few more days of travel, and they finally reach it- a far more humble sight than they had expected. The buildings are largely of white sandstone, and there are few people milling about.

“Our leader is called the Delphin,” Moab explains. “He or she is the most powerful wizard in the Delphinate. His or her true identity is unknown- there's a magical artifact that he or she wears to ensure that. But you probably won't meet him or her.” A slight smile traces over his lips. “I will be taking you to meet General Habrael, though- my father.”

The first sign that the Delphinate is unusual comes when the group approaches the gate and finds it flanked by two large stone statues. As the party moves toward the entrance, the statues animate.

Moab strides forward and holds up a hand. He speaks a series of letters and numbers, and the golems move back into place. He turns and gestures the others forward. “It's okay. They won't attack you now.”

“Impressive,” mutters Shar.

Once on the streets, it becomes more obvious that this place is unlike any other.

First, the people walking along, while largely garbed in desert-appropriate clothing, often carry wands, staves, orbs, or other implements. Some of their clothing is obviously magical, too; one woman hurrying along wears a robe with many eyes sewn in it. These eyes move, watching everything around the woman suspiciously. A gnomish man is surrounded by a cloud of orbiting stones and spheres. A pair of eladrin wear matching glowing tiaras. Some of these people are accompanied by obvious familiars or strange constructs, too.

But there are more signs than just the people that this place is replete with magic. Several businesses have animated images dancing out front, advertising their wares. Others glow or change color as the party watches.

And there is another thing, which doesn't become apparent for some time, but is present as soon as they enter the city: all the streets run very slightly downhill. Even if one reverses direction, he or she is always walking very slightly downhill, no matter which direction he or she travels.

***

General Habrael is a severe-looking older man with a squared off beard and a hawk nose. Upon Moab's arrival with the group, a proud smile walks out onto his face for an instant before hesitating, getting stage fright, and retreating.

“Excellent work, Captain,” he says.

Moab introduces the party to his father, who offers to give them some time to rest and refresh themselves before they discuss matters or diplomacy. Though he refrains from wrinkling his nose, his meaning is clear: Take a bath, you filthy savages. But our heroes don't take offense. After all, General Habrael is correct- with the exceptions of Moab, Karl, and Shifty, who used cantrips to assist their hygiene, the party is a stinky, dirty mess.

***

After the others depart to refersh themselves, Moab lingers. Once they are alone, his father states, “I'm proud of you, son.”

Moab stands at attention.

Habrael proceeds to debrief Moab, listening intently as the enchanter explains his journey north and back, including describing the events at the Garden of Graves and the party's quest to find and stop Quah-Nomag. “That's part of why they came south with me, sir- to see what they can find out about the cult of Tenebrous.”

“Interesting. There is some evidence that the Tenebrous cult has been responsible for a few missing people. It would do us good to know more about them, and if they're dangerous, to be rid of them.”

He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a packet wrapped in silk.

“I have three things for you here,” General Habrael continues, unwrapping the bundle. “First, for successfully establishing diplomatic relations with one of the only bastions of civilization to survive the Six-Fingered Hand, I am promoting you to Major.”

From the bundle, he hands Moab his new uniform and rank insignia. Moab doesn't say anything, but he stands just a little straighter and his eyes burn a touch brighter.

“Second, there's this.” He hands Moab a book. “This is an agent's journal. I have its mate. What you write in it will also appear in my copy. The effect is one-sided, however; you won't see what appears in my copy, so I can't reply to you.”

“Understood, sir!”

“Finally, on a more personal note, now that you've proven yourself to me, I have this for you.” General Habrael passes Moab an intricately worked electrum ring. The band is traced with arcane glyphs. The dominant rune is their family mark. “This was crafted by your grandfather Moab, for whom you're named. Use it well.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Now go get some rest,” Moab's father orders. “Tomorrow, you start your search for Tscire Nobi.”

Next Time: Our heroes begin looking for the hideout of the Cult of Tenebrous!


MOAB'S RING (Level 15 Rare)
This intricately worked ring of electrum is traced with arcane glyphs, but the dominant rune is the family mark of Moab's line.
Lvl 15 --- 25,000 gp
Property: You gain a +1 item bonus to all defenses.
Property: You reduce the severity of critical hits on you by 1d6. (If the severity is reduced to 0 or below, the critical hit still occurs.)
Power (Encounter * Healing, Teleportation): Minor action. You teleport 5 squares and spend a healing surge.
Power (Daily): Immediate interrupt. Trigger: You are hit by an attack. Effect: You gain resist all 10 until the end of your next turn.

General Habrael says, “We view religion as primitive and unnecessary. It's a relic of the past, of an era before we understood the cosmos. So while we don't endorse it, we don't regulate faiths any more than we regulate any other kind of pact-making with powerful outsiders.”

Shar sniffs.

“No offense intended. If I might ask, since you're a cleric, what faith do you follow?”

She answers, “I'm a priest of the Sword Cult.”

“Ah, so you don't even have a god- unless you're one of those who has deified the Sword Emperor?”

“Thrush was just a man, but he is a great example of the quest for perfection in one's chosen area. He didn't become the greatest swordsman of his age by accident. He devoted himself to seeking the pinnacle of his skills, and he achieved it.”

Habrael nods. “Indeed. He was just a man. I'm glad you are one of the more rational types, rather than- well, anyway. As you can see, a cleric doesn't need a god to channel magic. You are akin to a sorcerer- a natural talent, using faith as a prop to aid you. Think of your religion as being like the wand or staff a wizard might use to direct his powers.”

“Uh huh,” Shar says. She is clearly unconvinced.

“And what is a god anyway?” the general continues. “Yes, gods are very powerful- but so are demon princes and arch-devils. Indeed, such a being might be more powerful than some gods! You can go to a god's home, if you know where it is. They aren't some kind of luminous entity that is somehow different from other creatures. They're just ultra-powerful outsiders. And what is the difference between beseeching a god for magic and making a deal with some other ultra-powerful entity? Clerics really are nothing more than warlocks who are largely ignorant of the fact that they're warlocks.”

“What does all this have to do with this cult of Tenebrous?” Kane demands.

General Habrael sighs. “I am trying to illustrate why we haven't taken any action against them up until now. We don't regulate religions, we regulate behavior. If a faith's followers act in an... antisocial manner, we prosecute those followers for the actions that they have taken, not for what they believe.”

“But surely you have some limits,” Karl says. “Surely you don't allow, for instance, a cult devoted to a demon or devil to flourish.”

“Oh, please,” Habrael retorts, disdain plain in his voice. “We are an enlightened civilization. Belief is belief, and a supposed good deity is fundamentally no different than the darkest demon prince. They are all powers to be drawn upon. Yes, some of those powers are more prone to provoke people to behave improperly, but so what? It is ultimately the choice of the person whether to accede to the demands of such a provocation. Just as not all followers of a good deity will be good themselves, not all followers of a demon prince will act out in destructive ways.”

“I guess you can't really control what people believe anyway,” Sepia puts in.

“Certainly we could! Make no mistake about that! Controlling thoughts and beliefs is well within the purview of enchantment magic. But we prefer not to do such things. It's an unnecessary expenditure of effort in most cases; it's usually far preferable to regulate the behavior in question.”

“Getting back to the Tenebrous cult,” Shifty says, “what can you tell us about them?”

“Very little.” Habrael steeples his fingers in front of him. “We do know that they have a headquarters of sorts, apparently called Tscire Nobi. According to our intelligence, it's on an island somewhere on White Lake.”

Moab speaks up. “To be clear, that's the lake that we abut.”

Habrael continues, “But unfortunately, the lake is choked with mist. This may be a magical effect, but it has been in place for years, so if it is, it's very powerful. You can probably find a boat to hire if you want to try to seek it out, but it's very easy to get lost in the mist.”

“I'm sure we can manage,” Karl replies.

***

But before seeking Tscire Nobi, there is a residuum tasting held in the group's honor. They participate, somewhat warily. To their surprise, they find that there are different flavors and qualities to the different types of residuum on offer.

“How do you have so much residuum here?” asks Karl. “Are there that many magic items around that you don't need?”

“Oh, no!” Moab replies with a chuckle. “The vast majority of it comes from the mines.”

“The what?” Shifty asks.

“The residuum mines.”

Well, that's a strange statement. As far as the others know, residuum isn't mined at all- it's the result of breaking down magic. They ask for more details about these mines, but Moab is cagey about them, claiming that their location is a state secret. He also seems puzzled by the fact that they aren't aware of the existence of such mines. “Where do you get yours from, then?” he asks.

“By disenchanting magic items,” Karl tells him.

But though they don't get any further on that particular puzzle during the tasting, they do manage to secure a boat and a pilot named Timon.

***

As he isn't a wizard, Timon is a resident but not a citizen of the Delphinate. He makes his living through a combination of fishing, piloting on the rare occasions when someone needs to go out on the lake, and scavenging from the massive ruined metropolis of Makon, which lies spread to the south and west of the Delphinate proper. “Before the end, it completely surrounded White Lake,” he tells our heroes, then shrugs. “Lots of it was burnt during the war, and then the Delphinate relocated here.” Though he's happy to ramble on about such matters, it soon becomes clear that his tales are a mixture of his faulty memory, hearsay, and rumor; how reliable they are is uncertain.

Timon is a skilled pilot. He claims to know the lake as well as anyone, but swears up and down that there is no isle large enough to hold a shrine or temple anywhere far from shore. He admits to having heard rumors of Tscire Nobi, but says, “I've been all over this lake and I've never seen it.”

“Well, let's try and find it anyway,” answers Shar. “Think of this as a leisurely day of getting paid to row us around.”

“As you say.”

But the thick fog seems truly impenetrable. By the time they are a hundred yards from shore, almost all they can see is the boat, surrounded by a sea of white. Even the surface of the water is a light gray color, seen fuzzily through the vapors rising from it.

Karl closes his eyes. “I can feel the magic here.” He lifts a hand. “Flowing... a combination of illusion and weather magic.”

“Can you follow it to its source?” asks Shifty.

“I'll try.”

“As for you,” Shar tells Timon, “try to find the center of the lake.”

“As you say,” the pilot replies.

***

The search is fruitless and frustrating. They return to shore well after full dark with no idea whether they went anywhere near the alleged island they're looking for.

“It could have been fifty feet from us,” Shifty complains, “and we never would have seen it.”

Timon taps his ear. “There's more than sight.” He sighs. “But I didn't hear any sign of it, either.”

Shar disembarks and places her hands on her hips. “Just because we didn't find it in one day doesn't mean it isn't there. We'll try again tomorrow.”

“Aye,” rumbles Kane, “and with luck, this time we'll find something to wet my blade.”

***

But the lake is huge, and the magic concealing the island- for Karl is now convinced that is what he is sensing- is powerful indeed. Try though he might, he can't unravel it. And though he has explored White Lake for decades, Timon's senses are baffled by the mists.

We just have to be persistent. PHUQ-69 communicates with the others through telepathy, enjoying the quiet of the water as dusk settles in on a second day of failed searching.

The shardmind is right. A few more long days of searching ensue; and finally, the party finds some evidence that they are on the right track.

They are attacked.

A trio of ghouls rises up from the water, trying to pull Timon into the water. Kane and P-69 intervene with decisive violence, killing two of the ghouls and driving the third back into the water, where it swims rapidly away.

“Follow that ghoul!” yells Shifty.

Indeed, that seems to be the break the party needs, and in short order, they draw another attack. Again, the party manages to drive the swimming ghouls back, after which Sepia comments, “You know, if you were a Kree, we'd have to call you Kar-El.” She grins at Karl.

“Hmph,” he replies.

Timon pursues the lacedons as best he can. Moab and Karl try to guide him by tracing the magic to its source, theorizing that it's probably centered on the isle that it is designed to conceal, while Shifty and Sepia listen intently, helping to guide Timon's pursuit of the receding undead.

And at last, their efforts are rewarded!

Within the thickest part of the fog, a lumpy isle slowly resolves. Timon hisses and pushes away from it, almost scraping the hull of his boat against sharp rocks, so sudden is the island's appearance.

“Quietly,” mutters Shifty.

Slowly they paddle all around the tiny islet. They can't see much of it, due to the thick fog, but they find a rickety wooden pier with three small rowboats tied up.

“All right,” Shifty whispers. “This is the place.”

The party disembarks.

“Well, good luck to you all,” Timon says.

“Wait a minute! Where are you going? You can't just leave us here!” protests P-69.

“Surely you don't think I'm going to stay here waiting for some crazy cultists to come grab me! I'm not deaf, I've been listening to you people!”

Shar presses a large gem into Timon's hand. “Just wait for us for a little while.”

He hesitates, then nods. “I'll wait 'til dark. That should give you a few hours.”

“Good enough,” she replies.

Kane grins, baring his teeth. “That should be plenty of time to put anything here to the sword.”

***

Bone Isle, as it is called by the cult, is a huge pile of discarded stones and rocks formed over the course of seven centuries. During the glory days of the Sword Empire, the quarry used a teleport circle to throw away unusable and inferior bits of stone. The circle deposited the discarded material on the bottom of White Lake, and the pile grew and grew until it eventually jutted above the relatively shallow section of the lake. In the centuries since, the wind brought a substantial accumulation of dirt, now covering much of the rocks. At the top of the island is a cluster of crude huts and a pen full of zombies which surround a creepy-looking hall of worship constructed from pieces of rock mortared together.

“I think this is the place,” Shifty murmurs. “They have zombie livestock!”

The party advances up the slope. As they reach the plateau where the huts and pen are, the zombies remain quiescent, shuffling about in their pen without any seeming purpose.

“I think our destination is obvious.” Karl gestures at the stone shrine. A large skull is painted across the door.

Kane strides forward, but the door swings wide before he reaches it.

An undead child stands there- a boy of perhaps ten years at the time of death.

Our heroes are stunned by its appearance for an instant. Likewise, it seems surprised. But it recovers first, and emits a piercing shriek.

The zombies find sudden purpose.

Worse yet, people start to emerge from the huts: chain armored, with maces whose heads are fashioned to resemble skulls. In moments, overwhelming numbers pour out around our heroes.

Which is just what Kane has been waiting for.

He bellows a battle cry and begins hacking around himself, cutting a swath through the lackeys of Tenebrous. Then a fireball explodes, and suddenly most of the cultists are down. It is followed a moment later by a well-placed beguiling strands that slays many of the zombies.

Shar, Sepia, Shifty, and P-69 surround the undead child and mercilessly take it apart.

In a shockingly short amount of time, the party cuts their foes down.

“We're good at this!” Sepia giggles.

“It's not over yet,” P-69 replies, kicking the temple door back open.

It's small enough to be a single chamber. Pews take up much of the interior, with a large altar made of stacked bones at the far end. Columns support the unsteady-looking ceiling. Two large charnel pits, 50' deep, hold jagged bones that cover their floors.

Another corrupted offspring is within, this one made from the cadaver a girl of around six years. It falls even quicker than the first, put down as an act of mercy.

“Look,” Sepia says. She points into one of the charnel pits. At the bottom, a door is set into the pit's side. A quick look confirms that the other pit has a matching door.

“It certainly doesn't look like there's any information up here,” Karl comments. “Hopefully, there's something more illuminating through there.”

***

As soon as the doors open, the fat demon beyond rips a chunk from its belly and hurls it at the party.

“Look out!” cries Moab.

The flesh explodes, spraying flesh, blood, and flame everywhere. The heroes are all blasted by it, staggering and shouting in pain.

Kane doesn't hesitate a moment. He rushes forward, jamming his sword into the monster.
He roars, throwing a shoulder into the demon and ripping his blade free in a shower of gore.

Something else bounds in- another cultist. This one, unlike his fellows above, is filthy. He stinks of rotten flesh, and as he arrives, he is chewing on what appears to be a human ear. He is an eater of the dead.

“I bring you the blessing of death!” he shrieks, lurching forward and trying to bite Kane. The barbarian jerks back, and the eater of the dead keeps moving, rushing into the middle of the party, biting at everyone who tries to hurt it. “Prepare to feel the caress of oblivion! Only dying can save you from life!!”

Then, suddenly, Karl and Shifty, who are in the rear of the party, feel a strong pull as the charnel pits behind them begin to pull at them, sucking a massive amount of air.
Both throw themselves forward, putting enough distance from the pits to be out of their range.

P-69 and Sepia flank the fat demon, which pulls more gobs of flesh from itself. Each one explodes when the monster hurls them, and it seems to be fearless, even throwing a glob of its side at its feet in order to harm all of its attackers at once. Sepia wobbles and falls to one knee.

Shifty cries, “You can do it!”, and Sepia clenches her fists, her jaw; rises to her feet; and cracks her whip again.*

Things begin to turn in our heroes' favor. But just then, the vampire arrives, flanked by more cultists. It isn't obvious that he is anything more than a cultist leader until his eyes catch those of Kane, momentarily captivating the barbarian.

Shar focuses her powers on the vampire, and the others soon finish with the demon. The eater of the dead finds itself pushed into the middle of the vampire's formation by Moab's beguiling strands, where Karl blasts the mass of villains.

“Fools!” cries the vampire. “Tenebrous will devour your souls!”

Not yet. Not today.

Another flame burst, another beguiling strands, and a flurry of attacks by everyone else- and the followers of Tenebrous fall.

***

The dungeon beneath the small temple is now empty of inhabitants, as the party ascertains as they explore. They drew everything to them during the battle.

The hall that the fight took place in is crudely painted with scenes of demons and the undead overrunning and devouring civilized folk. The overarching theme seems to be that giving oneself up to become undead is the only salvation. Beyond the doors leading deeper into the place is a ritual room, painted with more scenes of undead and demonkind slaughtering humans, dwarves, elves and their ilk, etc. The floor has several summoning diagrams inscribed upon it to aid in the summoning of demons, as well as various runes, sigils and glyphs of evil portent and vile nature.

Passages out lead to a number of large rooms holding a bed and small dresser, as well as a pyramid of bones with candles and incense burning upon it. Clearly, these are the chambers of some of the adepts of Tenebrous.

A door leads to a cell block, the cells in which are unlocked. Three of them have recently-dead corpses in them. It is apparent that something has gnawed on them. One of the corpses is a naked dwarf; the second is a well-dressed Delphinite half-elf; and the third was a smartly-dressed hobgoblin.

Prodding the half-elf body with his toe, Moab remarks, “Looks like we now have evidence that this cult is dangerous.”

Another chamber is almost bare. Its sole feature is a coffin, well-padded, with some dirt inside it. “I think we know what this is.” Shar spits on it.

“There's no reason to leave the vampire a possible home if it ever comes back,” Moab says, and Karl and he blast it to pieces with their spells.

They also find an ossuary, lined with bones and skulls taken from humanoids of all kinds. A comfortable majority are goblinoid, but there are plenty of elven, human, dwarf, halfling, orc and kobold skulls, a number of other reptilian humanoids such as dragonborn and lizardfolk, gnoll, goliath, gnome and even a single tabaxi skull.

“Charming,” mutters P-69.

From off the side of the ossuary, a steep slope (about thirty degrees) drops down into a shaft of filthy water about 60' deep; from the smell, it seems that this is where the cultists dispose of their waste and trash.

Shar nudges Shifty. “You should climb down there and see if there's any treasure.”

“Hell no,” the gnome retorts. “How about we drop a rope and let you down to check it out?”

“That's okay. I'll pass.”

Nobody else is interested in volunteering, so they leave the pissery behind.

But now it seems as though they have explored the entire subterranean level without finding any information. “Maybe we should have taken a prisoner,” Karl sighs.

“They were demon worshipers,” Kane replies. “Such foul people deserve life not.”

“Yeah, but we need information.”

Shifty says, “Maybe there's a secret door or something.”

The party investigates the place, and after a time, Sepia finds a secret door leading out of the ritual chamber. The party forms up and opens the passage warily, but there is no trouble behind it- just a library.

“Eureka,” says Karl.

They move in eagerly. There are dozens of books to pour through. The party starts examining them.

Kane scowls. “Books! I like it not.”

***

There is only so much time available before Timon leaves. They return to the boat; the mist is thinning substantially.

“Think we can find our way back tomorrow?” P-69 asks.

“Yes,” Moab states unequivocally.

By the time they reach him, Timon's terror has grown beyond all reason. “There are still ghouls in the water,” he claims. As they push away from the island, moving into the darkening gloom, he tells them that he won't return on the morrow.

“We'll find another pilot,” Shifty says.

“Fine by me. Good luck.”

***

The party returns in the morning, and this time it's far easier to find Bone Island. It is as if the presence of the cultists somehow reinforced the magic concealing the place.

Kane stands guard, not being interested in reading. With a few hours' work, the others gleans much. First, that the library is part of a research project. The research information seems to focus on things that were deemed lost forever but then recovered. The basic gist is that whoever did this research was looking for ways to find that which cannot be found.

This much merely confirms what our heroes had already learned. But there is more- far more.

A new “exarch” of Tenebrous is rising in the Underdark, whatever that means.

“An exarch,” Karl lectures, “is a powerful entity in service to a god or being of godlike powers. Basically, it's like a deity's right-hand-man.”

From the tone, Quah-Nomag- whose writings these seem to be- finds this troubling. In order to fully attain the rank of exarch, the fellow who is rising-“Zirithian”- must assault the Drow city of Phaervorul in order to sacrifice enough soul energy to Tenebrous, and he then plans to unleash a horde of undead on the surface in order to distract “those backwater meddlers from Overland”.

“What the hell is a Drow?” asks Shar.

Nobody has an answer.

“Look at this,” says Moab. He has found the coordinates to a teleport circle in the Underdark that is, according to the notes on the same page, “not far above Phaervorul, which lies past the Mushroom Forest.”

Shifty looks up from another set of writings. “It says here that Quah-Nomag brought information back from the Tower of Deryndradin here. It looks like he confirmed that whatever he is searching for was obscured by extremely powerful ritual magic that wiped all memory of it from existence. That's some trick!”

“Are you done yet?” demands Kane. “I grow bored.”

“Just hold tight, big guy,” Sepia replies.

More reading finds that Quah-Nomag may have found a solution to the problem of how to find what he seeks. It seems that there is a place called the Mountain of Ultimate Winter, deep in the Elemental Chaos. This place is so cold that everything, even thought, freezes there. Quah-Nomag believes that it is possible that memory of that which he seeks exists as one or more ice crystals guarded by strange beings called immoths, described as icy giants with incredible mastery of runic magic.

“I think,” says Shar, “this little escapade has paid off big time.”

Next Time: Our heroes must answer a desperate plea for help! Return to Moonstair!


*Shifty has multiclassed into warlord.

I know that a lot of people have trouble with, and enjoy examples of, skill challenges. This is the one I used when the pcs tried to find the island. Note that finding the island was only a matter of time. This is one way that I like to use SCs- if success is bound to happen, how long will it take? To me, the notion of spending months or years searching for a site has appeal (though in this case, each run of the SC was one day long). Anyhoo:


FINDING THE ISLAND (Level 11 Skill Challenge and one or more EL 9 encounters; total xp 3800 or more)
The pcs should be able to hire a boat to take them out on White Lake for a couple of gold pieces, but the island itself is cloaked by a combination of illusions and weather magic (cloaking it in fog). In order to find it, the pcs must defeat this magic by completing a skill challenge.

RUNNING THE SKILL CHALLENGE
Finding the island is a level 11, complexity 3 skill challenge. To successfully complete it, the pcs must achieve 8 successes before 3 failures. Once the pcs get close (after they have achieved 5 successes), see Complications, below.

Since a combination of illusion and weather hide it, the pcs' possible approaches to finding the illusion include the following:

Search Grid: The lake is truly too large to divide and search without immense manpower, but the pcs can spend six hours to eliminate everything within a few miles of the Delphinate proper. Doing this doesn't require any skill checks or gain a success or failure for the party, but gives all further checks in the skill challenge a +2 bonus.

Pierce Illusions: A character that expresses the belief that illusions are involved may attempt to see through them with an Insight check (DC 27). Success means that the character earns a success; though they cannot see through the veils of mist, they can make out which ones are illusory. Failure ensnares the characters further in the misty magic; they gain a failure.

Countermagic or Follow the Flow: A character trained in Arcana may attempt to sense the presence and direction of flow of the magical energy that cloak the island (DC 19); doing this earns one success for the party, while failing earns the party a failure. Once the presence of the magic has been sensed, a trained character may attempt to countermand the cloaking spells here in order to eliminate them, but doing so is very difficult (DC 29). A character that makes this check earns two successes, while failing it gains only a single failure. A character that uses dispel magic against the fog earns an automatic success for the party.

True Navigation: The characters may attempt to simply use their Perception (DC 23) or knowledge of Nature (DC 19) to navigate. Using such a skill earns either a success or failure for the party. Alternatively, a character could make a History check (DC 19) to remember details on the locations of the lake's islands; the party can earn only one success this way (although they could conceivably earn multiple failures!).

Watch the Ghouls: During and after the attack of the sodden ghouls (see Complications), a pc could try to discern the direction of the island by watching their behavior using either Insight (DC 19) or Religion (DC 19). A daring character might also swim in pursuit, using Athletics (DC 20). The characters earn successes or failures for any of these instances.

Rituals: Using a divination or weather control ritual earns the pcs one to three successes, depending on the ritual, its level and how cleverly the party uses it.

Complications: As the pcs get closer to the island, they enter a more active layer of the island's defenses. After their 5th success, the party is ambushed by a trio of sodden ghoul wailers (OG 154; level 9 soldiers), who attack from the water, attempting to pull the boat's pilot into the water before dealing with the pcs themselves. The round after they attack, two more sodden ghoul wailers grab the boat from under the water and attempt to tow the vessel away. Each round until that the ghouls tow the boat, the pcs lose one success.

As soon as the pcs defeat the three sodden ghoul wailers above the water, the other two retreat into the depths unless any pcs are in the water, in which case they attempt to drag them under and slay them. If the pcs want to attack the two ghouls under the water, they must enter the water or hole the deck of the boat.

Each time the pcs achieve a 5th success, they are attacked by another group of ghouls unless they are still dealing with the first group. In practice, this means that they must continue to work on the skill challenge while fighting the ghouls, or they will end up fighting group after group of them without ever making headway.

Success: When the pcs achieve their 8th success, read the following:

In the mist ahead, a rocky island starts to resolve itself. A short pier, inexpertly constructed of wood, bobs above the waves, with three small rowing craft attached. You can see the suggestion of a steep upward slope, but the thick vapor in the air makes it impossible to tell more.

Failure: The pcs become hopelessly lost. It is full dark by the time they finally find the shore of the lake, and it takes until almost 2 a.m. to return to the Delphinate. The pilot who took the pcs on this journey, if still alive, must be impressively compensated or he swears off the party thereafter.

With the information our heroes uncovered at Tscire Nobi, the Delphinite authorities finally have the evidence to shut down the local Tenebrous cult. After all, they have been sacrificing citizens. Unfortunately, neither Quah-Nomag nor anyone of real importance to the cult are caught in the wizards' net; it may even be that Quah-Nomag was the sole authority in the organization, for the rest seem to be mere fanatic thralls.

Afterward, General Habrael invites the party to enjoy a residuum tasting before they return home. This proves to be an enjoyable event, albeit one that is bizarre; the notion of adding raw magic to one's food and drink seems to treat the residuum with unreasonably frivolity, as if it could simply be harvested like any other resource. Indeed, that seems to be exactly wha the Delphinite citizens think happens. Over the course of the tasting, there are several more references to the residuum mines, though nobody is willing to tell our heroes where these alleged mines are.

I just can't figure it, Karlinden thinks. Surely there can't actually be a way to mine residuum... can there?

***

Moab stands at attention before his father.

“You've done very well, indeed,” the general declares. “Thanks to you, we've made contact with another group of survivors of the Six-Fingered Hand. And thanks to them, we now know about the dangers that the Tenebrous cult represents.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“It is necessary to follow up on that cult,” Habrael continues. “To continue to investigate them. And since these people intend on doing that, I am going to send you with them.”

“Yes, sir!”

“You will serve two purposes: first, you will act as our ambassador and agent among them. As such, you will advance our interests in any and all ways that you deem appropriate while you are with them. Second, you will aid them in seeking out this Quah-Nomag and preventing him from achieving his goals, as those seem likely to impact our society. Indeed, he has already cost the lives of a number of our citizens, and as such, I am empowering you to carry out a death sentence against him.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Excellent.” The two shake hands. “I look forward to your reports.”

***

The Delphinate proves an excellent source of rituals. Our heroes linger a few more days in order to learn several.

“I grow bored,” Kane grumbles.

But before they can depart for home, Shar receives a sending.

She gathers her companions. “We're being called on for help. Moonstair is under attack by a kingdom of trolls.”

“A what, now?” P-69 cocks his head.

“I'm not aware of any such kingdom,” Karl objects.

Several back-and-forth sendings clears up the situation a little. It appears as though there is a self-declared troll king named Skalmad who is attempting to carve out a new troll realm, calling it Vardar in reference to such a kingdom that existed long ago. He has been gathering his kind for months, perhaps longer, but has only recently begun probing Moonstair's defenses. A group of local heroes had recently forayed out to attempt to dissuade the trolls, but nobody has heard anything from them since. And, as the party has seen, without some kind of heroes, there aren't enough people there to hold off a sustained troll attack.

“Sounds risky,” Shifty says. “They're not worth it.”

“They're asking us for help,” Shar replies. “Think about it. We can bring them into our own territory if we save them. We can have an outpost on the Feywild.”

“That does sound promising...”

“Also,” Kane points out, “we can slay many trolls, which is a reward in its own right.”

“So we're agreed?” Shar surveys the group. “We'll help?”

There is a general murmur of agreement.

“In that case,” Karl says, “I can speed our journey up. Unlike when we made our trip south, I now have access to the phantom steed ritual. It will conjure up magical mounts for us, which will allow us to travel much faster.”

***

Moonstair has entered a siege mentality. People are harvesting what crops they can, bringing livestock into the town proper, erecting defensive works, stockpiling ammuntion and oil for the town's defenders- whatever they can do to prepare.

Rualiss, the eladrin attorney the party met previously, thanks them effusively for coming to the town's aid. “I don't know what we would have done without you,” he says. “We don't have any real war leaders or the like.”

“It's okay.” Shifty grins. “We're quite experienced in battle. Why, our man Kane has even led a mercenary company!” It's an exaggeration, but one that heartens the town's defenders.

***

The party rests for two days and nights. For most of them, it's nice to eat and drink stuff that is free of the tang of residuum. For Moab, it's just a reminder that he is away from home again, living for who knows how long with people barely better than savages.

Scouts report troll sign less than two miles out of the town. It's clear the attack is coming; the only question is, when?

***

When it does come, it's a sudden mass of airborn enemies wyverns and a manticore ridden by a troglodyte wearing fancy armor made of shells and stones netted together.

Our heroes speed to meet them where they land and begin to wreak havoc even as another group, this one including strangely pale trolls, an ogre, and several weird monsters with but a single huge eye, attacks the town's walls. Yet more monsters attempt to storm Moonstair's docks, and another band attacks from the far side- a troll leading a pack of worgs.

The party brings their full force against the aerial assault. The monsters are deadly; the poison on the tails of the wyverns is severe, and the manticore and its rider work together as a deadly team. Pinioned between the manticore's spikes, the troglodyte's javelins, and the stings of the wyverns, Kane is taken out of the fight for a few moments before Shar and Shifty can restore him, but then Moab manages to force the enemies into a perfect formation for Karl's fireball and flame burst.

Meanwhile, the folk of Moonstair do their best to defend themselves against the other attacks. Columns of smoke begin to rise where the fire necessary to combat trolls spills onto buildings, barrels, wagons.

Once the aerial assualt is dealt with, the party dashes to the attack on the wall, arriving too late to prevent one of the trolls from scaling it. But Kane and PHUQ-69 smash into it and soon drive it back, and the group manages to prevail against these attackers, too.

But it isn't over yet. At the docks, a pair of great lobster-monsters led by kuo-toa have come out of the water and are tearing apart the townsfolk trying to stop them from advancing toward the center of town. The party rushes to this fight, aided by a nearby ballista. Tentacles splash up from the water, grabbing at the retreating 0defenders and pulling them back toward the water.

It's a mad scene, but one that is put in order by our heroes' valiant efforts.

When the monsters lie slain, our heroes are gasping. “I'm out all of my most powerful spells,” Karl warns.

“Me too,” says Shar, “but we're not done yet.”

The baying of worgs echoes across the field of battle.

Kane clutches at a wound on his thigh, panting for breath. “Aye, let's go. We've dogs to put down.”

***

When the Battle of Moonstair is finally over, our heroes have been pushed to their utmost, used up all their resources. They have driven themselves to exhaustion, found their limits- and exceeded them. They are victorious.

Though not without cause.

A number of buildings are gone or burned so badly that they can no longer be used. Worse, nearly thirty of the town's citizens have been killed in the attack. Several others are missing.

“But we won,” says P-69. “That's what matters.”

Shar shakes her head. “It's not over. I'm pretty sure we didn't kill the troll king, and he doesn't sound like the type to give up easily.”

Sepia says, “We need to take the fight to him.”

“If only we knew where he was,” Shifty laments.

“Well...” Karl smiles. “I think we can find out, as long as we keep at least one troll head. I recently learned the speak with dead ritual...”

Next Time: Our heroes attack Skalmad's troll warren!

At this point, our heroes have taken their paragon paths. We now have:


Kane- barbarian/frenzied berserker
Sepia- rogue/cat burgler
Shar- cleric/governator*
Moab- wizard/enigmatic enchanter
Karl- wizard/tome adept
Shifty- rogue/gnomish illuminatus*
PHUQ-69- warden/shard disciple

Alas, Alkor has left the party at this point.

*These are custom.

Questioning the dead troll reveals a fair amount about Skalmad. For one, the troll refers to him as “Skalmad the Undying”, but as Karl points out, that might be a reference to the trolls' ability to regenerate from most damage.

“But what if it's not?” Shifty moans, wringing his hands.

“Bah!” Kane snorts derisively. “We will lay this Skalmad low, no matter how many times we must kill him!”

The resurgant kingdom of Vardar, it turns out, is centered on a place called the Great Warren, a nest of caves within the swamp known for obvious reasons as the Trollhaunt. The troll gives confusing, rambling, incoherent directions; Shar remarks, “I hope it's easier to find this warren than it was to find Tscire Nobi!”

***

Although there is a strong consensus that the party needs to bring the fight to the troll king in his lair, the folk of Moonstair and not pleased at the notion of their greatest defenders leaving them to the tender mercies of further troll assaults.

So it is that Karl and Sepia decide to stay behind, to lend their might to the town's defenders while the others advance into the Trollhaunt.*

The Trollhaunt is a mess of thickets and marshland, with wiry, twisted trees and great screens of moss hanging down. Insects buzz and bite, constantly harrassing the warm-blooded creatures within. Birds call; frogs sing. The spongy ground is dotted with fungus. Oozes harmless to creatures larger than a butterfly pulsate and swim through the water, consuming water bugs. The rich, fecund odor of the swamp fills the air, forming a strange fug.

The trudge through it takes time, and the party quickly finds evidence that they are on the right track, for a troll war party stumbles on them the first night. The fight is furious and brutal; our heroes win.

“You should learn to cast fireball,” P-69 tells Moab. “This would be a lot easier with a fireball.”

Moab sniffs. “I'll be sure to take your advice on matters arcane just as soon as you have finished up years of study and earned a degree in spellcasting.”

The deeper into the Trollhaunt the party goes, the more difficult the terrain becomes. But they remain on the right track, for they keep seeing troll claw marks on trees, troll droppings, and half-eaten, mostly-rotten, discarded carcasses. After several days of grueling travel, they finally find a muddy track. Troll footprints are abundant.

Finally, the trail ends at a sturdy wooden gate anchored to the wall of a cave. A sluggish stream flows into the side of the mound that the warren is apparently built into. A narrow window looks out to the left of the entrance. The party keeps watch for several hours, noting the presence of trolls and more troglodytes.

“It doesn't look like there's much of an easy way in,” Shar mutters.

“Then we must cut our way in.” Kane grins and unsheathes his sword.

“Let's try to keep them from sounding an alarm,” P-69 says. “The last thing we need is to have everything in the warren come crawling out at us.”

“Let them come,” Kane rumbles disdainfully.

***

The party pushes into the warren, hacking through the guards at the entrance, then burning the troll bodies to make sure that they stay dead. Fortunately, the cave is already foul-smelling and smoky, so it seems unlikely that the added smoke will alert the inhabitants.

The party stays left, going deeper into the warren and crossing a stone bridge over the river. They soon find an underground lake, full of black water. A few stretches of dry ground run alongside it, and two small islets poke up from near its center.

“This would be a crappy place to fight trolls,” Shar murmurs. “It would be too easy for them to put out any fires we start...”

“LOOK OUT!” Shifty shrieks.

A dark draconian head rises from the water, as long as a man's torso. Wicked eyes focus on the party.

Shifty hurls his gnomeblade, then dives to the side as the dragon breathes out a stream of acid. Moab, P-69, and Kane are all caught in the caustic fluid. Screaming in pain, Moab hurls himself into the water to wash the acid off.

Kane gives a tremendous battle cry and leaps at the dragon, striking a mighty blow against it.

It laughs and dives under the water.

“This isn't what I expected!” shouts Shar.

Moab surfaces and staggers out onto dry land again, water streaming from his sodden robes. “Try to lure it close and I'll use my beguiling strands to force it out of the water,” he says. “As long as it stays deep in the lake, we can't fight it!”

There is an eruption of water as the dragon breaches the surface again. It rushes in to batter Kane with its claws and bite, then slashes at P-69 with its tail before rushing away again. Our heroes land a few blows, but they don't seem to have much impact on it.

“Watch the water for it!” Shifty cries. “Where did it go?”

Again, the dragon rises, this time spewing more acid all over Kane and Shifty, only to submerge again after a few quick spells and missiles from our heroes.

Kane groans. “Cursed dragon!” he shouts. “Stand and fight, you coward!”

There is no answer. A few short moments pass-

The dragon rises again, breathes again. P-69, Shifty, and Shar are all coated in the acid this time, and when the dragon retreats into the murky water, Shifty says, “We should get out of here! We can't fight like this! We need to figure out a strategy!”

“We can't just let the trolls attack Moonstair!” Shar snaps.

“They're not worth it!”

“We'll come back,” P-69 says. “But Shifty's right. We're going to get killed by this thing if we let it set the terms of the battle.”

Reluctantly, the party retreats. They leave the Great Warren and hurry away into the surrounding wilderness, trying to head uphill as much as possible to find a place to camp on dry land.

We'll be back, Shar silently promises the dragon.

***

The party makes another daring raid into the Great Warren the next day, this time taking the right-hand passage leading deeper into the place. They cut through more troglodytes and more of the humanoid creatures with single massive eyes dominating their heads.

When the battle has been one, Shifty prods one of them with a toe. “These aren't cyclopes. I don't know what they are.”

But in short order, a trollish counterattack deals significant damage to the heroes, and they are forced to retreat again. They return to their campsite, but this time are attacked as they try to rest.

“We need to keep our distance from them,” P-69 opines.

“Or hide better!” Shifty suggests.

***

While seeking a better place to camp, our heroes stumble into a single person campsite. A blue dragonborn is whittling on a stick as they enter. Her eyes are wary. She is wearing plate armor and a greataxe is propped against a tree next to her.

“Hello,” she says, continuing to carve.

“Uh, hello,” Shifty replies. “Who are you?”

She puts her stick down and rises to her feet, gripping the axe. “My name is Sabine. I'm a paladin of Garnet. And you...” She grins. “Are you the so-called Heroes of Moonstair?”

Shar and Kane share a glance.

“Yes we are!” Shifty beams at her. “So, you've heard of us?”

“Yes. I helped with the defense of the town.”

“You did? Ah, excellent! So I can only assume you are here to fight the trolls!”

“Well... sort of. One of my relatives was a member of a party of adventurers who went to confront the trolls before the attack.”

“Oh, I believe we heard about them.”

“They didn't come back. So I'm trying to save them. Save them... or avenge them.”

“I see, I see... Well, it seems as though our courses are aligned, at least for the moment! Perhaps we should join forces?”

“It sounds good to me. To be honest, I was hoping to find you while I was out here. Some of those trolls are pretty tough, and Garnet only knows how many I'll have to fight before I find my cousin. Or his remains.”

“What if the trolls have eaten him?” P-69 asks.

“I'll know if we find his gear,” she replies.

“All right,” Shar says, “I think we can agree that working together will make us more likely to take out this troll king. And, of course, that dragon.”

“Dragon?” Sabine looks at her.

“Aye,” Kane growls. “A black monster that keeps submerging to escape us.” He scowls.

Sabine grins again. “I've always wanted to be a dragon slayer.”

***

The party once more enters the Great Warren and, once past the troglodytes now stationed to guard it, keeps to the left, heading quietly toward the underground lake.

“If we can lure it out,” Sabine says confidently, “we can take it.”

Kane curls his lip. “Unless it flees like a coward again.”

P-69 picks up a rock and hurls it into the water. There is a splash, then, for a moment, nothing.

Then the water starts to churn and bubble, and the dragon's head rises up again.

This time, the strategic situation is different. Sabine subjects the dragon to her divine sanction, then hangs back, and when the dragon breathes acid on several of the others, it pays for it in radiant damage. The dragon tries to use the same hit and run tactics it did before, but with her sanction in effect, this rapidly proves too painful. It is forced to emerge from the water to fight.

The dragon is a whirlwind of destruction, its teeth and claws tearing into Kane and P-69. It snaps its tail into Sabine as she charges in to close with it, delivering a telling blow. But once it is surrounded by them, Shifty springs in to flank with an acrobatic attack and Shar hits it with iron to glass, reducing the amount of damage it deals.

Soon, the monster attempts to get away from them again, seeking to retreat to the water. But this time Moab has positioned himself to prevent such shenanigans. He is ready with a beguiling strands. It can only reach the shallows before P-69 intercepts it and pulls it back toward them.

The party piles on the damage, unleashing their deadliest attacks.The dragon roars and breathes again, but as they are not grouped up, the dragon is forced to choose between catching only Sabine in its acid or affecting Moab, Shar, and Shifty. It chooses the painful option, and the paladin's divine sanction activates once more, dealing yet more radiant damage to the dragon.

Finally, Sabine brings down the black dragon with a mighty smite.

***

A search of the water turns up considerable treasure, including a bastard sword that drips acid. Kane claims that gleefully, then the party retreats to their camp to rest before returning to make another foray into the warren.

Next Time: Our heroes meet Skalmad the Troll King!


*This is about the point at which we lose two more players, alas. But as you can see, the party quickly met a new one!