Adventures in the Eastern Provinces

[the Jester]

At this point, the party roster is as follows;

Shifty, gnome rogue 3
Shar, elf cleric 2
Sepia, tiefling rogue 3
Cavemouth, half-orc fighter 3
Kane, human barbarian 1
Karlinden, eladrin wizard 2

Kane has missed a couple of sessions, but I’m hoping to run an hour or two solo for him before the next time we play in order to give him a catch-up encounter or two. (He also has some xp coming to him already, too).

Anyway, update!

***

The party exits the dungeon, clambering back up and out of the Earthquake Rift and starting the march back to the Governor’s Tower. The place is pretty run-down, but inhabitable, and the female goblins (vanished now) that were briefly assigned as housekeepers seem to have done some work.

There is no sign of violence or trouble; the females are just gone. Our heroes collectively shrug their shoulders. They have probably gone back to their tribe, and with any luck, news of their merciful treatment will help Mulcoyle cement the deal they made with him.

The tower is comfortable enough to sleep in, that’s for sure. After a hard day of climbing up and down rocks and fighting (and being defeated!), all of our heroes are ready for a good night’s rest. Of course, they still set watches- who knows what might come out at night here, near the tempting target of the crossroads, waiting to spring on a lone merchant or two?

But their night is uneventful, and in the morning, after a leisurely breakfast, they set out for Grumbleford, first heading to the crossroads and then strolling down the southern fork of the T. As they walk along, at first they pass the standard motley assortment of merchants and farmers, but after about an hour, they come upon a fascinating sight.

A well-dressed halfling, fine silk sleeves and fine leather gloves and a hat and everything, mounted atop a vicious-looking bird bigger than a horse. Behind the halfling driver, an enclosed howdah of rich purple silks rises like a tower from the bird’s back.

Cavemouth, filthy and bloodstained, with holes and cuts all through his armor, walks over to this fine-looking fellow. “I beg your pardon, fine halfling, he says.”

The halfling, atop his bird, is above eye level for the goliath. He looks down at the hard-bitten warrior and says, “Yes?”

“I’m a seeker after a recipe of fine goliath wheat ale, and I was hoping that you might have some.”*

“Do I look like a brewer?”

“Well, no... uh, maybe, uh...”

“Good day to you sir.”

“Perhaps I can speak to your master?”

“He is not receiving visitors.”

Cavemouth slinks back to the party. “I just wanted to see who it was and maybe talk to them.”

“What did you do?” asks Shifty.

”I tried to talk to those guys over there.”

“Why?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I just... well, it doesn’t matter, they weren’t interested.”

The party picks up their pace and gradually opens about a quarter mile of distance between themselves and the terror bird with the howdah. Shortly after noon, they come to a spot where a halfling family has set up a wagon selling tacos on the side of the road.

It is about lunchtime, so our heroes stop at the halfling taco stand. Halfling- like the halfling on the bird! Cavemouth orders two tacos with extra everything and then starts marching back towards the halfling on the bird.

Shifty is aghast. “What are you doing? Didn’t you already piss them off enough? You probably don’t need that guy as an enemy. We might want to talk to him later. Don’t ruin it. Just stop, shut up! Crap, he’s still going!” The rest of the party get their tacos, and then they hurry after their huge friend.

Cavemouth reaches the bird first. He says, “I brought you a taco with extra everything from the halfling taco stand down the road a ways- as well as one for your master. But I must deliver it personally.”

“I am afraid not,” the halfling says firmly. “My master has no desire to see you. But give me the tacos, and I shall deliver one of them to my master for you.”

Dare I trust a halfling with a taco with extra everything? wonders Cavemouth.

Meanwhile, the others are catching up. Shifty groans, “He’s ruining it, isn’t he?”

Cavemouth finally replies to the halfling. “I guess that would be okay. Tell him that Tall-Oh-Gee sends his greetings.”

Shifty interrupts. “Pardon my friend, his facility with words does not always match his intent.” He nods politely to the halfling, who returns the nod.

“You are wearing uniforms,” notes the halfling. “May I ask, whom do you represent?”

“We are the governor’s men,” Shifty says immediately. We have to claim it whenever we can to make it true.

From within the howdah, a man’s voice speaks. “I will speak with them, Goodwheel.”

The halfling responds immediately. “Yes, master.” He directs the enormous bird to the roadside, and it kneels down. A man emerges from the howdah- a human aged around 40, with salt-and-pepper hair. He is as well-dressed as the halfling, if not moreso, and wears the raiment of some kind of religious prelate.

“Greetings,” he says. “I am Bishop Ulric.” He studies the party for a moment, examining their uniforms. “You say that you work for the Governor?”

“That’s correct,” Shifty says with a big grin.

“That makes our task easier. I am here to speak to the governor. You can help me reach him.”

Whoops!

“Uh, we can handle whatever you need,” Cavemouth says. “That is, we can tell him what you want.”

“Cavemouth-“ Shifty groans.

“What is your business with the governor?” asks Shar.

“Where is the governor? I come to speak to him on behalf of the Count of Aara. For too long this area has been unattended. The Count wishes to ensure that he has the allegiance of the local... governor.”

“Perhaps he’s at his tower, where you shouldn’t go without important official business,” Shifty says.

Bishop Ulric gives him a steady look. “When was the last time you actually saw the governor?”

Silence.

“All right,” says Shifty, “look, here’s how it is: thirty-five years ago, the governor went to deal with a crisis, and he never came back. We’re the people that keep the peace now.”

“I understand,” nods the bishop. “Then nobody is really in charge, are they?”

“Well,” says Shar.

“Someone must be- otherwise, how will the Count know that he has Southwest Aara’s allegiance? Someone must speak for this area, and take responsibility for it.”

“We’re kind of collectively,” Sepia starts, but Bishop Ulric cuts her off.

“Decide amongst yourselves, but decide. So long as you are willing to swear allegiance and pay your taxes, I shall invest one of you with the governorship.”

“What kind of taxes?”

“I am taking a census. For every 10 people, your annual head tax will be one copper piece.

The party huddles together for a few minutes, talking this startling offer over. Not everyone thinks it is a good idea or is interested, but the taxes certainly won’t be too much! After a few moments they break their huddle to tell Bishop Ulric their decision. Shar and Shifty step forward: “The two of us are going to share the governorship,” she tells the prelate.

“Very well,” Ulric says, “and in order to cement the bond even more strongly, I shall marry you.”

“Okay,” says Shar without hesitation.

“Well- all right,” Shifty mutters, nonplussed.

Right then and there, in the middle of the road, they have the ceremony, Bishop Ulric presiding. It is quick and efficient, lasting less than a minute, and suddenly Shifty and Shar are husband and wife.

A second ritual, nearly as quick, and the two of them are invested with official authority.

“Now then, how far is it to Grumbleford?” the bishop asks.

“A couple more hours,” answers Cavemouth. “We’re heading that way- we could accompany you.”

“That would be appropriate. Grumbleford is the largest town in your district, is it not?”

“Yes,” says Sepia. “If you need alchemist’s fire, you have to go there.”

The look on the halfling driver’s face says, Do I look like I need alchemist’s fire?

“Excellent. Then it is there that we shall announce your investiture- we shall have a public ceremony for both your marriage and investiture for appearance’s sake. I suggest that you begin considering your heraldry.”

“Who do you worship?” asks Shar.

“I follow Dexter,” replies Ulric. “But I serve Count D’Aara.”

“Where is the count to be found?”

“To the east, usually on the coast. He moves his court around, and is often on the road.”

***

At Grumbleford they do just that, performing the ceremony with much drama in the town center where the market meets in a chaotic mess of stalls and tents. Quite a crowd gathers; the party is dressed up, and Shar and Shifty are re-married and publicly announced as the new co-governors. They then appoint Cavemouth as sheriff, Sepia as treasurer, Karl as “magus incarna”, and Kane as “the governor’s fist”. There is a good amount of celebration. It appears that their tenure in command of the area is off to a good start.

***

They hauled him in a basket. His age alone made him frail; his health added to the journey a terrible weight. He could not sustain himself through it. He grew ill and reeled with fever.

It seemed to him that an army was marshalling not far away. They turned back to the north.

Towards the scent of the canus.

Over the decades in captivity Lerrmurr’s skills had grown soft. He had once had a highly acute nose, capable of reading everything in that hint of scent: how many of them, how aggressive, their breed.

Once, the aged tabaxi thought, their kind served us. Long ago, in our day of glory.

Now he could only tell that there were a handful of them, still about a mile away.

His thoughts are disconnected; he seems to be floating. In the background, he can hear talking: someone from the nearby army, talking to one of his captors. Negotiations, the tabaxi thinks dimly. My captors didn’t expect them to be here. They are press ganging whoever they find in preparation for something. They are trying to press my captors into service!

Raised voices now, as things grow heated. Lerrmurr tries to focus on what they are saying.

“...you’re able-bodied, we need you. Come on, there will be plenty of booty. Come willingly and you might even be able to leave in a few months, once we’ve done what we’re doing.”

“I suggest that we pay you instead,” replies one of the milder of his captors. “A handsome sum, and a long tradition- the nobles often paid the king in gold rather than men.”

“But we need the men,” the soldier says. “And we can just take your gold if you don’t cooperate.”

They’re trying to keep me secret, the tabaxi realizes. They’ll desert as soon as possible, or manage to get away without being pressed, and somehow take me with them unseen.

Unless...

Struggling with all his feeble strength, Lerrmurr rocks his weight back and forth as hard as he can. He feels the basket he is crammed inside of tip slightly, and he does it again, rocking with the momentum.

Already, he is getting tired.

But one more oscillation is enough: the basket tips over sideways, the lid falls off and the tabaxi spills forth, blinking in the sun.

“What’s this, then?” the man from the army asks.

“Help,” croaks the tabaxi, squinting in the sudden sunlight.

“Never mind that,” says one of his captors. “Let us just pay you, and you go on your way-“

“No, I don’t think so.” The sound of a weapon being drawn is unmistakable. “You can run off or get pressed, but the cat stays with us.”

Finally able to see, Lerrmurr is surprised to find a squadron of five men from the army, weapons ready. Two in the rear have javelins held ready to throw. The other three have spears out. The spokesman is a foul-looking half-elf.

Of his captors there are only three.

“Kill them,” he croaks.

His captors- his former captors- hesitate for a long moment, then begin to back away. Then turn and run.

“Free,” whispers Lerrmurr.

”Well, about that,” says the half-elf.

Next Time: Our heroes tour the area announcing their new positions!


*Thus begins Cavemouth’s series of crappy Diplomacy checks for the night. In all fairness, he isn’t trained in it and he isn’t very charismatic.

 

[the Jester]

Our heroes are moving up in the world!

Co-Governors Shifty and Shar, now married by Bishop Ulric, unite the families of the Ynarlslands and the Swaysacks into the Ynarlsacks. Cavemouth becomes Sheriff Cavemouth; Karl is appointed Magus Incarna, and Kane is made the Governor’s Fist. For the most part, they are making up titles as they go, but that’s okay; you gotta start somewhere!

The party has a large ceremony in the market square of Grumbleford, ensuring that the locals know their names and recognize their authority. Then they depart, marching overland and stopping briefly in the ruined city of Thrushton to poke around on the way to first Woodcut and then Overland, where they plan to again announce their new positions. Since they have agreed to pay taxes to Count D’Aara- one copper piece per ten people, as well as three men-at-arms that they will send to the count- they figure they might as well see if they can find any treasure on the way.

In the ruins, they fight off a pack of wolves, deal with a cloud of stirges and put most of a small group of bandits to the sword. They spare one- Farlo- and tell him that he is the new leader of the rest of his men, wherever they are, and that he had best lead them to a straight and proper lifestyle, one that does not involve banditry, theft or abuse of peasants. Farlo departs straight away with assurances that he will do so, and our heroes continue along their way.

On the way out of the city, they are ambushed by a group of spiders and a strange beast that seems to mix the worst qualities of spider and man (Karl later identifies it as an ettercap). Our heroes find the leaping spiders difficult to pin down, but soon enough they triumph, and in their search of the monsters’ lair, they find a pair of magical items: a spear that drips poison and a holy symbol.*

Not bad, for a side trek.

They keep walking, and eventually reach Woodcut, a small lumber town. They announce themselves and then spend the night in the Hayfork Inn. They stick around and spend some of the money they acquired in the ruins of Thrushton, partying with their subjects for three days.

While they are there, Cavemouth deputizes a man called Big Turly and the party appoints a group of four representatives who can come to their tower with concerns or problems: two human men named Bradford and Mane, a dwarf named Tunnek and a woman, Cawdri.

Their initial round of rulership done here, the party then hits the road, heading north and east towards their original home, Overland- although none of them are sure whether they will reside there much longer, as the Governor’s Tower is now theirs to do with as they will. But it needs work, and so, as they travel, they start to plan on hiring masons, carpenters and other skilled workers to make repairs.

In Overland, they recruit a mason and a pair of men-at-arms.

***

Within a few days, the party has returned to the Governor’s Tower. At one point, Shifty finds his shoes have been tied together, and they decide that they had best start leaving snacks and drinks out for the local fey.

Shar carves a dueling circle in the courtyard. Now we need more warriors, she thinks. Praise the Sword Emperor.

***

Having declared their authority everywhere important in their territory, the party decides that their next move will be to return to the bottom of the Earthquake Rift, where the wererats lair with their dragon- ally? pet? master?- and take the strange entity in the ice pool’s quest.

Travel to the Earthquake Rift only takes a few hours, and the group has become practiced at making their descent. Before long, they reach the bottom. The wererats are delighted to see our heroes again, and to take ten gold pieces for the right to see Katimah, the strange green-haired woman who swims below the ice sheet.

“You have returned!” she exclaims upon seeing them.

“As we said we would,” declares Shifty pompously. “We are willing to attempt to help you, if you can impart the ability to breathe water upon us.”

“Come closer,” she replies. “Touch the surface of the ice.”

Cavemouth steps forward and kneels, putting one hand upon the chill surface. Katimah swims closer, beneath the ice, and reaches out until her fingers are below his, separated only by the glassy layer that imprisons her. An aquamarine glow seems to emanate upwards from her hand, and she says, “You are ready.”

Since no harm came to Cavemouth- being a burly goliath, he’s kind of like the party’s canary- the rest of the group files up and, one by one, receives Katimah’s touch. “Good luck,” she offers; then the party troops out to the central pool of water at the bottom of the rift. According to her, their path lies through a mostly- submerged canal that will lead them deeper into an old duergar city. Once they have entered the canal, they find themselves able to breathe as easily as if they were above the surface. It’s a very interesting experience, albeit a little cold in the chest. Fish dart by them periodically, and dead rats are virtually omnipresent.

“What exactly are duergar?” asks Shar.

“They’re also known as gray dwarves,” Karl informs her. “They’re an offshoot of the dwarven race given to deviltry and evil. They were driven below the ground long ago by their kinfolk, and now they toil in the depths.”

“So they are probably not really friendly, is what you’re saying.”

“Who knows?” quips Cavemouth. “We seem able to negotiate with anyone.”

Shifty grumbles under his breath and Shar adds, “As long as my esteemed husband doesn’t act first.” He shoots her an amused grin.

The party travels for about fifteen minutes before the canal enters the duergar works.

Next Time: Into the duergar works!


*In Cydra, a magical holy symbol is actually a device with a face that can be detached and replaced with one’s own deity’s symbol. The actual symbol isn’t magical, it’s the device carrying it. Otherwise, when you loot the Orcus priest’s body and get his +2 holy symbol of stuff and things, your own god would get pissed at you!

 

[the Jester]

All around our heroes, dead rats float in the water. Many of them are partially eaten. Colorless fish, many eyeless, swim through the water. Karl recognizes some of them as a dangerous species related to the piranha called quippers. He warns his companions; all of them stay wary as they trudge along the bottom of the submerged canal. This is the first time breathing water for any of them, and the experience is both unnerving and exhilarating. The environment is almost completely alien. The water makes their movements sluggish, and Cavemouth cannot help wondering how well they could fight under the circumstances.

Above the canal, the cave ceiling gives way. To the heroes’ left extends a long flooded plaza that vanishes in the darkness outside of the party’s light. The canal is recessed about 10’ deep along one edge; it continues past the plaza into some kind of basin, but the party decides to examine the duergar plaza first. They swim-clamber up and over it; now their light illuminates the whole thing. Several passages extend from it.

Shar glances down one: a hallway leading as far as she can see. Sepia looks down the two passages on the other side of the room. “These both lead into the same giant chamber,” she informs the others. “It looks interesting- there’s some kind of, I don’t know, machinery in there.”

This piques the interest of the others, who all come and crowd around the two paths that lead into the chamber. There is no immediate sign of movement save for the slowing floating rat corpses, nor does any sound emerge. With a shrug, Cavemouth enters the chamber.

A row of large metal crucibles stands beneath some kind of automated crane mechanism. Beyond it is some kind of beltway leading into a squat metal thing.

“It’s a smelter,” Karl tells the party.

Behind the smelter, a large pile of tailings is mounded high on the floor. Three doors lead out of the room; one of them is ajar. Shifty moves over and peers within, then pushes the door open wide. The chamber seems to be an old office of some kind. Two desks sit in the chamber, and a pair of inanimate skeletons lie on the ground.

No exits. The party opens the next door to the right and looks into an antechamber. A large pair of stone double doors exits from the left side of the chamber; to the right a row of stools is mounted into the floor. The walls are graven with images of internecine dwarf warfare. The party pauses to look them over.

The wars seem to have clear sides, and one side wins a clear victory. The gravings show the losers being driven out by their triumphant kinfolk- out, and deep into the ground. The next images show this group growing strong through their subterranean toils, eventually re-emerging in a mountain with a storm of fire at its peak.

Shifty brushes a dead rat out of the way and says, “Those double doors look inviting.”

Cavemouth nods and moves to stand before them. He pushes upon them, and though they are large and heavy, they slowly swing open.*

A huge great hall stretches out before our heroes. Four rows of thick pillars give it support; a large throne of stone sits at one end, flanked by a pair of strange statues that seem to be almost like humanoid crossbows. Another set of double doors, larger and thicker than the ones that Cavemouth pushed open, is in the center of the wall opposite the throne.

The water in here seems thick with grease and foulness, and our heroes spy the reason immediately. A pair of foul, undead dwarves with matted hair floating in tangled ropes from their beards snarls at the party’s approach. Their tongues are long and black; their teeth are strong and sharp, as if for cracking bones and sucking marrow. And the greasy stench that fills that water around them threatens to make our heroes gag.

“Lacedons!” cries Karl.

Cavemouth starts swimming towards them, whipping out the poisoned longspear that the party found in Thrushton. But as the goliath enters the chamber, the two crossbow-man statues near the throne animate.

“Watch out!” Karl warns. “Those are dangerous! They’re called arbalesters, and they-”

TWANG!

Cavemouth howls in pain as the bolt hits him in the shoulder, but he grits his teeth and continues his headlong advance on the ghouls. They swim to meet him. Sepia, Shar and Shifty pour after him, while Karl turns his attention on the arbalesters.

As the combatants close, blood starts to cloud the water. The aquatic ghouls smack their lips and suck it out of the water even as they try to bite chunks of flesh from their foes; meanwhile, Karl unleashes magic missiles at the arbalesters while they begin a punishing barrage of fire at the others.

Although they are taking plenty of damage, our heroes seem to generally have the upper hand. But then things grow complicated, as the blood in the water attracts a swarm of quippers** which quickly move in and start biting at everything around them. Karl fey steps away from them, but they fall upon Sepia with a vengeance. She has already been bloodied by the aquatic ghouls, so the fish are attracted to her. She barely makes it away from them.

But she’s not the only one that is leaking tasty-smelling blood. When Cavemouth’s magic spear opens the belly of the first ghoul, the gory remains of its last meal are exposed. Suddenly the quippers are helping our heroes as much as they are hindering them!

Cavemouth and the quippers take a ghoul down in short order. Shifty and Sepia dart over to flank one of the arbalesters and quickly cut it down, leaving Karl free to focus his magical attacks on the swarm of fish and Shar and Cavemouth in battle against the remaining lacedon. With the right attackers on each enemy, the fight is soon over.

The party takes a moment or two to catch their breath, bind wounds and employ Shar’s magical healing. Then all of them turn their eyes to those large, inviting-looking double doors.

“More double doors? Something good has to be behind them,” Shar opines.

“Loot,” Shifty elaborates, making sure that his comb-over is in place.***

The party draws weapons and takes their positions near the door and then Cavemouth throws it open.

A set of wide stairs leads upwards.

“Interesting,” says Sepia. “Stay here. I’ll sneak forward and check it out.”

“Be careful,” replies Shar.

The tiefling creeps slowly up the stairs, slinking along one wall. After about 20’, the stairs break the surface of the water! I wonder how much of what is ahead is dry, she thinks. The stairs seems to end about another 15’ up, but Sepia can see flickering firelight coming from somewhere ahead.

More telling, there is a barrier at the top of the stairs.

Holding her breath, she listens carefully. There are voices, speaking in a language that sounds like Dwarven. A guard post, she thinks. Duergar? Maybe. I’d best get the others.

Sepia retreats below the water and reports what she saw and heard.

“I think you’re right,” says Shar. “It sounds like a group of guards. But if they’re duergar, maybe we can negotiate.”

Shifty snorts. “Parlay! We parlay with everything! We should just go kill them.”

“If we can get the Bell of Salash without bloodshed, shouldn’t we?” she counters.

“No. If these duergar are devil worshipers, we should kill them so they don’t cause us further problems.”

They argue for a moment before Cavemouth sighs and says, “Why don’t we go see what happens?”

“All right,” the governors say together.

Next Time: Battle or parlay? Or both?


*These are “standard action to open” doors, rather than your standard “minor action to open” doors.

**Here are some stats for your amusement.

QUIPPER SWARM--- Level 3 Brute
Medium natural beast (fish)--- XP 150
---
Initiative +5; Senses Perception +3
Swarm Attack aura 1; any enemy that starts its turn in the aura that is not bloodied takes 5 points of damage; any bloodied creature that starts its turn in the aura instead takes 7 points of damage
HP 53; Bloodied 26
AC 15; Fortitude 15; Reflex 16; Will 15
Resist half damage from melee and ranged attacks; Vulnerable 10 to close and area attacks
Speed swim 8
---
[Melee basic] Swarm of Bites (standard; at will): +6 vs. AC; 1d12+3 damage.

Blood Crazy: If one or more bloodied creatures are within 10 squares of it, the quipper swarm must attack the closest one. The quipper swarm gets +1 to attack rolls and +3 to damage against bloodied creatures with its swarm of bites.
---
Alignment unaligned; Languages -
Str 8; Dex 18; Wis 14
Con 13; Int 2; Cha 10

***Just a quick reminder- Shifty looks pretty much like an older Herb Tarlick from WKRP in Cincinnati.

 

[the Jester]

Note: I added the map of the starting area of the campaign to the first post.

I'm finally starting to unpack my gaming stuff after months and months of having it boxed up. At last!!! I expect I'll start doing more regular story hour updates soon.

 

[the Jester]

Our heroes sneak up to the barricade at the top of the stairs. They are noticed before they can climb over, and four of the five duergar in the chamber beyond rush to repel their advance. The final gray dwarf hangs back. He wears robes that have a religious look to them, and immediately begins incanting diabolically.

Karl fires a magic missile at the theurge, but the duergar cackles maniacally as vile fumes burst around our heroes, blinding several of them.

From behind the barricade, the duergars guarding the entrance laugh as they swing their weapons. Cavemouth reels under the assault, but Shar's healing words keep her standing- and fighting. Sepia, uncaught by the fumes, darts up and hurls a dagger into the theurge's chest with a sly flourish, leaving him grunting in pain.

Shifty and Karl, blinded, hang back long enough for their eyes to clear. By then, Cavemouth has managed to clamber over the barricade, suffering two severe blows from duergar hammers as he does so. He lays about himself, swinging his axe in a wide arc, while Shar continues to feed him strength.

Shifty, Sepia and Karl focus their attacks on the theurge in the back. Shifty hurls a shuriken, Sepia a dagger and Karl a volley of magic missiles. The theurge crumples.

The other duergar blanch, suddenly caught between Cavemouth on one side and the barrier- and Shifty and Sepia- on the other. “It doesn't have to end this way for you!” calls Shar. “We don't want to fight you. We're here to talk! But if you keep attacking us, we will show you no mercy.”

The duergar, already demoralized, stand down- although they don't surrender. Shifty sighs. “God damn it. Why can't we just kill anything?”

***

Negotiations ensue, as is usual for this band of adventurers. Privately, even Shifty has to admit that Shar has a point. If they can achieve their goal and get the Bell of Salash for the marid without violence, she will reward them all the same. Sure, there is potential loot from the duergar that the party will miss, but they also will miss a lot of potential trouble. Evil, devil-worshiping dwarves are bound to have tunnels full of guardians, traps and probably even devils, he thinks. Maybe it isn't such a terrible thing that we are missing that.

Shar explains to the duergar, “We're looking for a bell.”

“The Bell of Salash,” one of the duergar says immediately.

“You're a bright one,” the governess replies. “What's your name?”

“Tincup.” The duergar eyes her speculatively. “And what do we get in return?”

“Well, Tincup, if you can help us get the bell, we can avoid a lot of unpleasantness.
As you can imagine, we are about to attack your home and lay waste to many of your people, but we'd prefer to avoid that. Why don't you take us to someone that can negotiate for your folk?”

The guard shakes his head. “We don't like outsiders,” he growls, “and we won't suffer them in our city.”

“If you're useless to us, we'll just kill you,” Shifty interjects (almost eagerly, one might think).

One of the other guards scowls and starts to heft his warhammer again. “Wait a minute,” Shar urges. “We can get back to fighting if you want, but it's still possible that we can talk this out. Can you bring someone to talk to us?”

Tincup and the guard that started to lift his hammer exchange a glance. They withdraw a few paces and have a quick conversation, then Tincup swaggers back towards the party. “I'll talk to you,” he declares. “What do you need the bell for, anyway?”

“There is a creature that your kind imprisoned. We want it to free her.”

“No,” says a third guard. The others are shaking their heads.

“If you free her,” Tincup states, “she will destroy my people. She will raise the water level to flood our tunnels and drown us like rats.”

“Maybe you deserve it for enslaving her,” Sepia retorts.

The duergar are scowling more direly again. Shar once more tries to smooth the negotiations. “My husband,” indicating Shifty, “and I are the new governors of the lands above this area. We can ensure that she leaves you in peace- we can extract an oath from her before we release her.”

“And if she refuses your oath?”

“Then we will not release her,” Shar pronounces. Cavemouth groans quietly.

Again, the dour looks on the gray dwarves retreat until they show mere displeasure. “We must discuss your offer,” Tincup announces, and pulls his men back a few dozen feet to mutter amongst themselves in Dwarven.

“Think about it, brothers,” Tincup mutters. “If we steal the bell for these outsiders, we will undermine the authority of the Darkchain clan so much that we may be able to take the Thanedom from them!”

Another scowls back at him. “But think of the risks. If she were to flood the tunnels, we would all die.”

“Yet, if these surfacers can keep their word and force her to leave...”

“Just imagine,” his eldest brother Zelthug says, “our father on the throne!” And then before long, it would be my turn!

“A bold scheme,” Gravel, the youngest of the four of them, nods. “Can we secure the bell?”

“You are young,” Tincup drawls. “You do not yet know of the Gray Ways. We shall show you, brother.” And we will make an offering of Zelthug to Lucifer, that he may bless our undertaking- and that I will be the oldest left alive to succeed our father.

The duergar return to our heroes. “You still have not told us what you offer us.”

“We'll leave you in peace,” Shifty replies.

“You don't understand our power,” Cavemouth says. “We tore up your theurge very quickly. Just imagine what we could do to the rest of you!” The goliath glowers fiercely at the gray dwarves.

A long-suffering look on her face, Shar adds, “We're the governors of the lands above you. We can open up many possibilities with trade for you. Failing that, we can also help insure your privacy.”

The duergar guards mutter amongst themselves again for a moment. Finally, Tincup nods. “Very well. We will gain the Bell of Salash for you, but only if you can obtain an oath from the marid that she will leave us in peace.”

“Fair enough,” agrees Shar.

“But if you cross us, or fail to deliver,” Shifty threatens, “we'll finish you like we did your friend.”

Tincup shows his gritty teeth again.

***

The marid is easy enough to persuade. Though she freely admits that she would prefer to gain her vengeance against the duergar that used her for so long, she is rather philosophical about the whole thing. Better freedom and writing off her revenge than continued imprisonment, she agrees.

The wererats happily take the party's “entrance fee” each time they go to see her. Their purple dragon companion (? pet? master?) perches on high rocks and keeps a lofty, arrogant eye on the party.

Back down to the duergar, where Shar announces that the marid has agreed to their terms. Tincup nods decisively and says, “We'll have the bell for you in a day.”

“We'll just camp here, then,” replies Shifty.

“Out of the question!” barks another of the duergar guards.

“Leave,” Tincup demands. “Leave and come back.”

“We'll keep an eye on things here,” insists Shifty.

“Then the deal is off.” Tincup and his men reach for their weapons.

“Hold on!” protests Shar. “Wait, wait- we can live with this.” She draws Shifty away. “I think they want to get rid of us because there is a secret door to their home in this room,” she murmurs. “They don't want outsiders in, so we have to leave or else they have to reveal the way in to their home to us.”

“Which, practically speaking, they just did,” adds Karl.

Shar returns to the duergar. “All right,” she says. “We'll be back in twelve hours.”

Tincup grins a nasty, gray-toothed grin. “We'll see you then.”

As the party leaves, Cavemouth quietly points out, “We could have just given them time to set a trap for us, to gather reinforcements and stuff.”

“Sure,” agrees Shifty, “but if they try anything, we'll kill them.”

***

But Tincup and his men are true to their words. Twelve hours later, when the party goes to see them, they have the Bell of Salash. Our heroes depart without any further violence, although each side is ready for treachery from the other, and return to the pool imprisoning Katimah the marid above.

She swims to just below the icy surface of her prison. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of the bell that promises her freedom. “You did it!” she exclaims.

“Yes,” says Shifty. “But before we free you, you must swear to do no harm to the duergar below.”

Katimah does not hesitate for even an instant. “I so swear,” she cries. “Free me, I beg of you!”

Despite her reservations, Shar rings the bell.

Immediately, the layer of ice at the top of the pool begins to crack. Jagged edge and blue, a web of ruptures begins to tear the layer apart. In the water below, Katimah gives a great cry and rushes upward, slamming into the ice.

In an explosion of water and slush, the marid breaks free.

Laughing, she swirls around the chamber in a rush of water. Our heroes are staggered by the force of it, and several are almost swept away; then there is a sound like a great wave roaring, and Katimah is gone, leaving behind only an echoing, fading “Thank you...”

The floor is wet and a few flecks of sea foam cling here and there, to the rocks or to our heroes. But the pool is now empty save for a remnant of water a few inches deep. The marid, it seems, has gone- somewhere. Home?

Home. What a great idea. And for now, at least, home is the Governor's Tower.

Our heroes begin their ascent, heading back towards home.

Next Time: The invasion of Woodcut! Ambushed by druids! A daring rescue! Who will our heroes negotiate with next??

 

[the Jester]

Back at the Governor's Tower- which is still in quite the state of disrepair- our heroes take stock of their wealth (considerable, for a group of peasants, but less so for a government) and the magic items that they have. This list is actually more impressive:

• Shar has an amulet of health +2 and a potion of healing.
• Cavemouth has a +1 poisoned longspear and an amulet of defense +1, as well as a longspear made of glass as hard as steel that the group picked up from one of the duergar rooms they explored.
• Shifty has a fire beetle potion, a +1 subtle shortsword and a suit of leather armor that the group has been as yet unable to identify.
• Karlinden has the party's bag of holding.
• Kane has a +1 quick greataxe, a potion of healing and bracers of the blinding strike.

Poor Sepia, it appears, has been shorted on magic items so far. The party resolves to fix this at the first available opportunity, further noting that Karl's only magic item is really a party item.

The afternoon is pleasant. Though not quite summer yet (it is early May), the weather is getting warm and muggy. As the shadows grow long some clouds roll in, making the evening cool and pleasant.

Until the messenger arrives.

He is tired and haggard from a hard day and a half on the road. He has come from Woodcut with word of an invasion.

***

“A band of mercenaries,” the man says after our heroes have given him water and refreshments. “I don't know why they came, but they rode in and took over Woodcut. They...” He hesitates briefly, swallowing through a throat suddenly thick. “They made examples out of a couple of people who spoke up.”

“Who are they?” demands Shifty. “What do they want? How many of them are there?”

The messenger shrugs helplessly. “I- I am sorry, my lord, but I really don't know. I'm no military man- there were many of them, too many for us to fight. Several dozen, at least, armed with a variety of weapons- swords, javelins, spears...”

“Did they have a banner or sign?” Kane asks.

“They did, sir. They rode under the sign of two crossed javelins.”

Kane rubs his chin. Shar coughs.

“It's the Double Javelins,” she sighs. “Not good.”

“The Double Javelins?” asks Cavemouth.

Kane grimaces. Shar says, “I wonder what he's after.”

“He who?” asks Shifty.

“Thannix,” she answers.

“He's the leader of the Double Javelins,” Kane explains. “A fierce fighter. He's got orcish blood. I wouldn't want to fight him one on one.”

If Kane wouldn't want to cross swords with this man... Shifty frowns in thought.

“We can't let this stand,” Cavemouth says. “We can take a couple of dozen mercenaries...”

“If it's the Double Javelins,” Kane states, “there are probably more like a hundred of them.”

“Why would they make a move like this?” wonders Cavemouth. “What is in Woodcut?”

“Not much,” Karl replies. “Lots of lumberjacks and foresters. A few trappers. No sites of real interest, no real wealth...”

“I don't get it,” mutters Kane.

“It could be a staging area,” Sepia suggests.

“If he's not after Woodcut,” Kane says slowly, “then he's after something else. Something bigger. But what?”

“Whatever it is, I just realized something else,” says Shar. “Bishop Ulric is supposed to be taking a census of our towns.”

“That might complicate things,” admits Sepia. “Especially if he gets captured.”

“Or,” adds Karl, “decides that we're too weak to hold onto the governorship.”

“Well,” Shifty sighs, “we aren't going to get answers out here in the middle of nowhere. In the morning, we should head back towards Overland. We'll be closer to Woodcut and we can establish some defenses there, in case this Thannix is crazy enough to take us on.”

“Yeah,” Kane says, “he would have to be crazy to take the six of us on with a trained mercenary army.”

“I wish you hadn't put it that way,” grumbles Sepia.

***

In Overland, our heroes set to building what defensive force they can. They hire a veteran soldier named Lentor as their recruiter and leave him with a bag of 240 copper pieces to use as bait.

“I'll get you your recruits, my lord, my lady,” he assures the governors.

“Tell them we'll pay triple the standard rate,” Shifty proclaims grandiosely.

Leaving Overland in the care of Cavemouth's dwarven deputy, Dugan, our heroes set out towards Woodcut to scout out the situation and, hopefully, gain some more solid information. Nothing against the farmer that brought them word of the invasion, but they definitely need to know what kind of numbers they are up against in order to plan their defense. “We should go to the ruins of Thrushton afterwards,” Shifty says. “We don't really have the money to pay an army yet, but we need to get it together quickly. And thanks to your negotiations, we aren't supposed to go back into the duergar area.”

“Sounds fine,” Shar says, pointedly ignoring her husband's pointed statements.

The afternoon presses its moist heat on them like a wet washcloth. Not summer yet? Well, it's starting to feel like summer. Sepia hums cheerfully as the group moves along; of them all, only her tiefling heritage allows her to be undisturbed by the heat. Before long they elect to leave the road at Kane's urging, sticking to the concealment of the undergrowth nearby. As he points out, the Double Javelins are bound to have scouts and watchers out.

And then, suddenly, elves are all around them, bows at the ready, faces grim and silent.

Our heroes come to a rather sudden halt.

A voice calls out from somewhere in the brush. “Halt! Go no further!”

“Who are you?” calls Shar.

“You see?” Shifty says. “This is when we negotiate- when elves come out to attack us. Not devil-worshiping dwarves.”

“Where are the crystals?” the voice calls back.

Our heroes heave a collective groan.

“We've already told you people,” Shar yells, “we gave it to a dwarf that claimed to be a druid named Nom.”

After a moment of silence, “We know no Nom.”

“Of course not!” exclaims Cavemouth. “That might not be his name, and he might not be a druid- he might have lied to us all along. We don't know. We didn't know who he was, we just knew that the crystals were bad news getting worse and he offered to take them off of our hands.”

“We may have been deceived,” Shar says.

After another hesitation, the hidden speaker replies, “You have cost the lives of several of my friends.”

“Unfortunately, your friends attacked us,” snaps Shifty. “We haven't picked any fights with any of you. First that guy Novak tricked us into helping him retrieve the crystals, then he turned on us and tried to kill us. After we took him out, it's been one thing after another. But the main thing is this: we were tricked all along. We're sorry if we killed your good fairy friends or whatever, but we were just defending ourselves.”

For a dozen heartbeats the only sound is the singing of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. Finally, the voice speaks again. “I believe you. Very well. We shall attempt to find this Nom. I shall bother you no more.” The elves begin to fade back into the woods.

“Wait,” Shar urges. “Before you go, tell us- who was Novak?”

“Seek your answers in Dasserc,” the voice says, as the branches close behind the last of the elves.

***

Dasserc is a tiny village on neither a road nor a river. It is isolated and backwards- even moreso than everything else in the area. It is also somewhere around 30 miles out of the way from Woodcut.

“There's probably no money there anyway,” Shifty opines. “I say we stick to the plan. We need some loot to pay troops with. We need to go to the ruins of Thrushton.”

Karl nods. “I agree that the odds of getting meaningful treasure are much higher in Thrushton.”

“But we're still scouting out the situation in Woodcut first, right?” asks Cavemouth.

“Definitely,” replies Shifty.

***

Shifty is sneaky enough that he manages to creep up close enough to the outlying farms to observe the situation, which amounts to 'the Double Javelins have seized Woodcut and are forcing the peasants to work the fields'. He pretty much already knew that, though.

Shifty observes carefully, picking both the right place- a series of bushes and trees adjacent to the farm furthest from town that is still being directly overseen- and the right moment- when the overseer in question in at his most helpless, squatting to answer nature's call with his pants around his ankles. A quick draw of a knife across the throat and he isn't calling a warning to anyone. Swiftly, Shifty gestures to the farmer in the fields.

“Psst!” he calls. The farmer looks up, surprised.

“My lord!” he exclaims in surprise. Shifty realizes that the fellow is one of the representatives that Woodcut had appointed to talk to the party previously, and after a moment, he comes up with a name.

“Bradford,” the gnome says gravely, “come with me. I've slain the overseer here- you need to get out of there, and we need information.”

Bradford gives a fierce grin. “Yes, my lord!” he cries.

Next Time: What will happen to poor Bradford when our heroes (and he) are ambushed in the night?

 

[the Jester]

Bradford frowns as he walks with our heroes. His farm is lost- he knows that leaving it behind will end with his fields burnt by the Double Javelins- but he is free!

His frown turns to a grin. He made the right decision when he decided to support the new governors. For his trouble, he has been made Imperial Foreman- but far more importantly, they came for him when there was trouble. Loyalty, never before felt for the “government” (what government?), burns hot in his chest. As long as I live, my lord and my lady, I am your man.

That night he is awoken from a sound sleep by a horrible yipping, barking noise. Fear paralyzes him for a moment. Then the sound of fighting reaches him.

Struggling to his feet in the darkness, he can see a group of tall, hyena-headed humanoids slashing and clubbing all around them. A lump crawls up his throat. His friends- his lord and lady and their companions- are they being slaughtered??

Then hot blood splashes him as a gnoll's head, severed from the rest of the gnoll by a mighty blow from Kane, flies past him, bouncing into the darkness, and Bradford grips his courage in both hands. As they came through for him- and far more directly, far more immediately, than he could have ever expected- he will come through for them.

Bradford stoops down and gropes in the darkness until he finds a rock about the size of an orange. He waits until the smaller silhouettes around one of the gnolls are out of the way- and he throws.

CRACK!

The gnoll staggers. Bradford hears Shifty cry out, “What the hell? Was that Bradford??”

“Go Bradford!” cheers Shar, before unleashing a daunting light that sears the gnoll. It staggers, off-balance, and Shifty slides the tip of his subtle shortsword into the back of its knee. The gnoll falls with a howl.

Amazed at his success- the only rocks that he's thrown before were to skip them across Fan's Pond- Bradford pulls another rock. Then cocks an eye as Kane hurls his battle axe into a gnoll's chest.

***

“Can you believe it?” exclaims Cavemouth. The goliath claps Bradford on the back. “He's practically a fighter himself!”

“I don't know about that,” the foreman demurs, clearly embarrassed.

“You were a great help,” Shifty beams at him, shaking his hand. “But next time, maybe we can make sure that you have a weapon to use.”

“...next time?”*

***

As our heroes continue their journey towards the ruined city of Thrushton, they find some interesting tracks.

“These are from some kind of bird,” Cavemouth says as he studies them, squatting on his haunches. “A big bird.”

“As big as the one that Bishop Ulric was riding?”

Cavemouth nods. Karl says, “I think it's possible that this is him. He may have seen signs of the trouble in Woodcut and decided to avoid it.”

“It's probably the wiser course of action,” nods Shifty. “All right. Let's follow him. Maybe the Count D'Aara can provide us with some troops to take back Woodcut with.”

The trail heads towards Thrushton's ruins, meaning that following it doesn't slow our heroes' progress towards the remains of the city. As they approach the outlying rubble, Karl points at the sky. “Look at that!” he exclaims. In the sky is some sort of large winged creature. The wizard squints at it. “It looks kind of leonine,” he mutters.

“What do you think it is?” asks Cavemouth. “You're our monster expert.”

“It's hard to tell at this distance,” the wizard responds. “It could be any number of things- a griffon, a manticore, a sphinx... in any case, we probably want to avoid it for now.”

“It has a spiky tail,” Shar says, peering at the flying figure with her keen elven eyes.

“It's probably a manticore, then,” Karl nods. And he repeats, “We probably want to avoid it.”

The party tries to stay near cover as they move further into Thrushton. Soon enough the manticore swoops down on something elsewhere in the ruins and is out of sight. It does not reappear any time soon, but our heroes keep a nervous eye on the sky.

With their attention distracted from the ground, they are easily ambushed.

First a pair of giant black centipedes crawl from a pile of rotting wood and attack. Each is the size of a full-grown man's leg. As our heroes focus their attention on this new threat, forming lines to defend the less melee-inclined of their number, the true ambush springs: a pair of bandits, apparently thinking our heroes to be easy money, attack from the flanks.

Once again Bradford proves his worth, firing the short bow our heroes gave him and giving a good account of himself. Even when one of the bandits runs him through, Shar manages to save his life with an almost immediate healing word.

Kane hews the giant centipedes in half, and soon the party has dispatched one of the bandits and taken the other prisoner.

“Are there more of you?” demands Shifty.

The party's captive groans her answer out. “There are, elsewhere in the ruins. About a dozen altogether. And there are other groups of bandits, too.”

“What else is in here?” asks Cavemouth.

“I don't know... all kinds of monsters, I guess...”

“Where are the other bandit groups?”

“I don't know about the other ones, just ours...”

“You're going to talk,” the goliath sneers, glowering at the elf. He slaps her. She gasps.

“I'm telling you all I know,” she answers, shaken. “Ask me anything, just let me go!”

“We'll see about that,” Shifty declares. “You've engaged in banditry. No doubt you have robbed and perhaps killed many people here.”

“Not many as such,” she prevaricates.

Cavemouth knocks her to the ground, and the prisoner cries out. Bradford shifts his feet uncomfortably.

And then things get really ugly, as Cavemouth shows his true colors.

***

The elf curls up in a ball after it's over. Everyone is staring at Cavemouth. In the heat of the moment, the sheriff had ignored Shifty's commands to stop, but nobody had actually interfered. Still...

“You're a terrible sheriff,” snaps the gnome angrily. “She already told us what she knew. What were you hoping to accomplish?”

Cavemouth shrugs. “I don't know... I didn't really believe her.”

“You idiot,” growls Shifty, staring up at Cavemouth's half-glazed eyes. He turns to the elf, who is crying softly. “Go,” he barks. “Get out of here. Find a real living, one that doesn't prey on other people. If we find you doing this again, we'll kill you.”

Cavemouth says, “Wait a second, we should-”

“Shut. Up. Go, girl.”

Cavemouth shuts up and the elf pulls herself up on shaky legs. As quickly as she is able, she staggers away.

Shifty glares at Cavemouth again.

***

The tracks of Bishop Ulric's terror bird lead into an old warehouse in the ruin. Even a cursory search quickly turns up a teleport circle and no signs of any tracks leaving the area.

“Well, it looks like we know what happened to him, if not where he went,” Karl comments.

“Sorcery,” says Kane direly.

“Yep, sorcery,” agrees Shar. “He must have used a teleportation ritual to flee, probably back towards the coast or wherever it is that the Count D'Aara is.”

“Well, we can't follow him, so let's do what we're here for in the first place,” suggests Shifty. Which, of course, is looking for loot. This task amounts to searching through ruined buildings in the hopes of finding something of worth or interest. Unfortunately, this is not a quick process, as the majority of the ruined buildings are empty or have already been looted of anything of real value.

However, after a few hours, the party finds a large building that is still reasonably intact, and when they venture downstairs into the basement they find a group of small humanoids wrapped in black rags. Karl immediately recognizes them as dark creepers, but before he can as much as announce that they are probably hostile, the clash has already begun. The dark creepers have a pet beetle that spits masses of sticky goo, entangling several of our heroes for a good part of the fight. But Karl is perfectly able to fire off scorching bursts from the bank ranks, catching two or more of the bad guys at a time, while Shar and Bradford fire arrows and Shifty, Cavemouth and Kane close to melee and use impressive teamwork to slice down the enemies quickly and efficiently.

After the fight is over, our heroes find that a crude staircase has been dug out of the floor, heading yet further into the ground. “This looks better than anything we've seen so far,” Shifty says with a satisfied nod.

The party descends. After about 20', they come into a central chamber with three passages heading out of it. One has the look of a new excavation, perhaps some kind of mine. Another ends in a door swollen shut by moisture. The final one leads into a chamber with several tables and stools- and another pair of dark creepers.

But this time, when our heroes rush to the attack, things don't go so well.

Next Time: Death of a pc!


*You might be thinking to yourself, “Hey, is this Bradford guy a new pc?” No, but he has turned into a fairly important npc and sometimes traveling companion for our heroes. At first I just assumed that he was dead meat and treated him as a minion, but eventually I upgraded him to a level 1 skirmisher. And then he started leveling up. I thought about using companion character rules, but his combat style demanded a more unique treatment.

 

[the Jester]

The problem lies in killing them.

Each time one of the dark creepers is slain, it explodes into a cloud of inky blackness. Earlier, there was room to fight the creepers from a distance, but now the explosions of darkness leave our heroes blind and helpless, flailing about with their hands as if clutching the air might somehow help defeat their enemies.

Of course, it doesn't.

For all intents and purposes, Cavemouth and Shifty stand alone*, fighting back to back as another dark creeper emerges from a shadowy passage in the back of the chamber. This figure pauses to study the situation before drawing a pair of wicked knives and beginning a dark dance through the party, slicing them with vicious efficiency.

But Cavemouth's huge axe quickly carves the head from one of the creepers, and Shifty duels the other to a standstill. Even so, the newcomer is clearly more dangerous than the other two, able to twist and dodge away from our heroes' attacks with deadly skill. In seconds, both Cavemouth and Shifty have several small wounds open and bleeding, and the dark creeper sneers at them soundlessly.

Then, with a gesture, it summons a quartet of crawling gauntlets.

“Uh-oh,” says Shifty.

The gauntlets race towards our heroes on stiff fingers, leaping up to punch at them. Shifty impales one on his sword as it closes; Cavemouth manages to hew a second one in half, but the final gauntlets latch onto the goliath's knee and starts twisting and crushing. Cavemouth tries to move, but it yanks his leg down, leaving him unable to catch his balance.

The dark creeper necromancer, meanwhile, dances to cut off any possible retreat, then lunges forward with a dark step, thrusting his knives into Cavemouth's thigh and side! The goliath bellows in agony, weakening as the creeper withdraws the knives and then brings them both slashing across his belly.

The goliath collapses, his innards billowing forth like a cloud of steam.

Oh sh*t, thinks the gnome governor.

The claws scuttle towards him and the two dark creepers start edging around to flank him. He keeps a close eye on the dancing one that just dropped Cavemouth.

They're between me and Cavemouth, thinks Shifty. I can't get to him without them catching me pretty well between them. He backs away towards the passage that the dark creeper necromancer emerged from. Hopefully he would have brought any friends he had with him, he thinks. Maybe there's an escape route or something...

As the necromancer takes another step forward, Shifty wheels about and bursts into a run, darting down the passage that leads- he presumes- into the necromancer's lair.

His guess is incorrect. The very short hallway opens after only about 10' into a block of cells.

There is no other way out. Shifty's heart sinks.

He turns as his foes come into view, and he lunges forward, running one of the gauntlets through. It spasms, impaled on his sword, and even as the gnome withdraws his blade, the other gauntlet hurls itself through the air at him.

Shifty throws himself down, rolls, comes up on his feet. The crawling gauntlet scuttles around and begins heading towards him again.

The dark creeper, followed by the dark creeper necromancer, comes into view.

“Hey!” cries a voice from the cells. “Who are you?”

“Free us!” cries another. “Please, help us!”

Shifty's eyes widen in surprise. There is no mistaking those voices for anything else.

There are gnomes imprisoned here!

Shifty is desperate. He is alone, outnumbered, with the dark creeper necromancer proving extremely dangerous. He realizes that, unless something changes immediately, he is as good as dead.

Instead of attacking, he swiftly draws out his thieves' tools and sets to work on the first gnome's cell. Behind him, the two dark creepers gnash their teeth silently and move forward.

Click! The cell door unlocks. That's one, he thinks with satisfaction. There is only one other occupied cell, but before he can reach it, the gauntlet leaps for him again and the first dark creeper rushes him. The governor is forced to defend himself with all his might, fending off a series of blows from his attackers with a series of parries that leaves his wrist aching and results in another knife wound from the dark creeper necromancer's damned dark dance.

Wham!! The cell door crashes into the creeper and the gnome within leaps out, wrestling with him over his dagger. Shifty thrusts at the necromancer, scoring a wound- not quite first blood on him, but he's still not significantly hurt- and then leaping to the other inhabited cell. A glance back reveals that the gnome has overpowered the dark creeper, but the crawling gauntlet springs onto his face, gouging for his eyes! The necromancer closes in too, his daggers a blur.

Don't think about that, Shifty thinks. Focus on the lock. He works his tools, trying to trick the tumblers within the lock.

Click.

“Excellent, my friend!” cries the gnome within. “And I have no need for weapons!”

The necromancer dances between all three of them, wounding them all; but both Shifty and the first gnome fart invisibility at the cut and reappear a moment later, striking for the vitals. The last gnome- the one that claims no need of weapons- begins to mutter and chant, making strange arcane passes in the air, and creates an area of illusory terrain that moves and shakes, slowing the necromancer.

Shifty allows himself a moment of satisfaction as he impales the last gauntlet. Suddenly the dark creeper necromancer is the one that is alone, and it doesn't seem to like it. Shifty and the knife fighting gnome press it, and in another moment, the necromancer breaks and flees.

Both Shifty and the gnome with the dagger are badly wounded, and the arcanist is bleeding from a bad slice across the arm and shoulder. Rather than attempting to pursue, Shifty groans and says, “Follow me this way, to the surface. I have friends there. We'll be safe.”

They file out of the cell block warily. Cavemouth lies unmoving and bone-white in a huge pool of blood. Shifty checks for a pulse; there is nothing. He purses his lips. Strange, he thinks. I'm sad to see him go, even after what he did to that elf. Yet on the other hand, I'm relieved that it will save us the trouble of deciding what to do with him. The gnome shuts his dead companion's eyes and then leads his freed folk to the party's camp.

***

The gnomes are named Lymock (the arcanist) and Mendore (the self-described “skulk”). They are profoundly grateful for their freedom. As they are gnomes, there is a lot of communication that passes between them and Shifty 'below the surface', so to speak, leaving the rest of our heroes somewhat baffled and out of context.

That's okay by the gnomes, of course.

Everybody knows that gnomes pull the unseen strings behind the scenes in areas such as finance and trade. Everybody knows that there are vast gnomish conspiracies that spread unseen over incredible distances. Everyone else is sure that Shifty, Mendore and Lymock are conspiring. Yet nothing is said on the surface; no obvious signs of the gnomish conspiracy are evident.

Which, of course, is all the more evidence that it is there.

“After we rest,” says Shifty, “we'll escort you to safety.”

“We know there are some dangerous beasts, such as a manticore, in the city ruins,” adds Karl. “We'd hate to rescue you only to have you get killed before you get out of Thrushton!”

“Thank you,” replies Lymock. He beams at them. “If not for your help, I don't know what would have happened!”

“We would've gotten away,” opines Mendore.

He and Shifty share a grin.

“Where do you need to go?” asks the governor gnome.

“Well, if you can get us to the place where the Goldwash and the Troll River branch, we should be fine.” Lymock winks at Shifty. “We don't even actually need to leave the ruins.”

“Do you live there or something?” asks Karl.

“We'll be fine there,” repeats the gnome arcanist opaquely, and Shifty nods brusquely.

“Of course,” he says, cutting off Karl. “We'll be happy to escort you.”

Damn gnomish conspiracies.

***

They set up camp in an overgrown park. Their fire is small enough to avoid drawing attention from anyone far away.

Despite that, as they sit around the fire eating stew and nursing mugs of small beer, a voice comes out of the night. “Your pardon, kind sirs. May I join you?”

A figure follows the voice, resolving into a shadowy figure clad in shadowy clothes. A spiked chain is hung at her belt. She looks human at a glance, although in the poor lighting, it is hard to tell for certain.

“Who are you?” demands Shifty. “What are you doing here?”

“My name is Lithieln Silvercord,” the stranger replies. “I am after a group of bandits here in the ruins- there is a bounty on their leader, you see.”

“Really,” replies Shifty. “How much of a bounty?”

“Twenty-five gold pieces,” the shadowy woman replies gravely.

“Well, you're welcome to share our fire tonight,” Karl says. “We're actually looking for treasure here too. Maybe we can help each other out.”

“We did just lose a... meat shield,” Shifty adds.

Lithieln laughs and moves up next to the fire, giving a cat-like stretch as she takes in the warmth. “I am not that,” she says. “I prefer to fight in a more... subtle fashion.” As she speaks, the shadows seem to flow around her like a cloak. “Nonetheless, I believe that I can be of assistance to you- and these ruins are more dangerous than I had anticipated. So far I have remained unseen, and I have tracked my targets down; but to do the rest of my work, I cannot simply hide.”

“Fair enough,” Shifty declares. “We'll try you out and see how you do.”

***

The escort to the river's branching takes several hours of tromping through the ruin, during which the party is attacked by a flight of giant wasps whose bodies are the size of a large dog's. Karl knows all too well how these things operate: sting and paralyze you, then implant eggs inside your body. When they hatch, the grubs eat you from within. An ugly fate that none of our heroes (nor either of their gnomish allies) wishes to face. Fortunately, the wizard's fire magic proves able to burn their wings away, and the gnomish trio slices and bedazzles the giant insects to death without any serious tragedies striking.

Their newfound companion shows some interesting abilities. She seems to be able to form shadows into a noose and yank enemies around with it. She also can hurls darts of shadow. It's a very interesting set of tricks, and Karl recognizes it as the signature of an assassin- trained by the secretive Grey Brothers, the assassins are masters of powers drawn from the Shadowfell, the dark mirror of the world and a home of the dead.

I suppose it's better to have her where we can watch her rather than wandering around on her own, the wizard thinks. Still, such powers aren't entirely... wholesome.

Soon enough the party and their gnomish friends part ways. To all appearances, the gnomes are simply hanging out in a rubble-choked area overgrown with creepers and large bushes. Shifty leads the party away, whistling as he does so.

“Where were those guys going?” asks Karl.

“Home,” replies Shifty. “A gnomish community usually passes unseen by other folk.”

“But where...”

“Don't worry about it,” Shifty says. “It passes unseen on purpose.”

“But the ruins are very dangerous,” Karl objects.

“We got them to safety,” Shifty declares. “Don't worry about the rest.”

***

The party goes towards the area that the manticore seems to like to fly around in, then finds a fairly intact building big enough for Bradford, Shifty's mule and Kane's horse. Then they creep a little closer- close enough to confirm that the beast in question is, in fact, a manticore.

“I don't think we want to fight this thing at this stage in our careers,” Karl opines. “It will tear us to pieces. And what if it has a mate or something?”

“Good point,” agrees Shifty.

“Why don't we take out the bandit I'm here for?” suggests Lithieln.** The others agree: 25 gp isn't much of a reward (and who is offering said reward, anyway?), but the bandits might have some loot, too. Very quickly the party agrees on the typical adventurers' contract (equal shares all around), and then Lithieln leads them towards her targets.

“There are about half a dozen bandits,” she tells the party. “I could sneak in and assassinate their leader, but the odds are very good that I would then be discovered, and if I couldn't escape, I don't think I could fight my way through that many foes at once.”

“Thus you need our help,” states Kane.

“Exactly.”

The bandits have taken over a two-storey building not far from a section of street clogged with ruined wagons- probably robbed and abandoned there. Two javelineers are on the roof; the rest, presumably, are within the building.

Our heroes storm it, Kane leading the way. They have a few moments of surprise before the javelins start to rain down from above, which they put to good use; Kane smashes through the front door completely.

The fight is quick and brutal. The bandits don't have a chance, between the savagery of Kane, the slyness and subtlety of Shifty and Lithieln and the spells of Karl and Shar. In only a few short moments, our heroes have overwhelmed their foes. They take one captive and Lithieln removes the head of their captain and puts it in a bag. (25 gold pieces, man!)

“I couldn't help but notice that they were using javelins,” Shifty observes.

“Yeah,” says Kane. “I recognize one of them.”

“What are you talking about?” the assassin asks.

“These men,” Kane explains, “work for the Double Javelins, a band of free companions that both Shar and I used to work with. They have recently seized one of the towns under the governors' protection.”

“But what would they be doing here?” wonders Kane.

“That's why we took one alive,” Kane replies. “And we don't need Cavemouth to rape him to get information out of him. I'll take care of it.”

“Not only that,” Shifty adds, “he probably actually has some information this time.”

Next Time: What are the Double Javelins after? Longtime Cydra readers, enjoy the return of the clockwork horrors!


*This session we started with only the two of the pcs present and playing. Normally we have a quorum of three players, but we were itchin' to get started and everyone else was behind schedule (or unavailable), so...

**...who almost immediately gained the nickname “Lithium” because it wasn't inconveniently difficult to pronounce. Much like Cavemouth's real name was difficult to pronounce.

 

[the Jester]

There is a story that some of the Double Javelins tell at times- a story about the time that a captured brigand outrider tried not to tell the warriors that caught him where his fellow brigands were.

The story relates some of the brutal techniques that the team of Double Javelins, led by a young, proud, violent man named Kane used. By the time their captive gave up the information that they wanted, it was too late for him to ever recover without supernatural help. The grim enthusiasm that young Kane had shown had gone a long way towards establishing his reputation as a man that should not be crossed. Later indiscretions in the local taverns had further cemented that reputation with a thick mortar of blood and gore.

Is it any wonder, then, that when he sees Kane cracking his knuckles and smiling darkly, the Double Javelin prisoner that our heroes have obtained doesn't even try to hold out?

After all, why wait until he doesn't have any fingers left?

He tells the party everything that they want to hear- or rather, what they need to hear.

“Thannix sent us to find something,” he explains. “A... a weapon.”

“What kind of weapon?” demands Kane.

“I don't exactly know. He said we would know it when we see it. We were to look for crystals on it. But it's... ancient.”

Crystals, thinks Shifty. Those damn crystals again.

“What do you mean, ancient?” asks Karl.

The Double Javelins shrugs helplessly, then blanches as Kane starts to move towards him. “I can show you as far as we got looking for it,” he says quickly. “We- we had directions. There's a... a metal road. Underground.”

Our heroes exchange glances.

“I can take you there. We hadn't found the weapon yet... but it's down that roadway somewhere, off a side passage. Are... are you going to let me go?”

“If you are cooperative enough,” says Shar, “we'll spare you.”

“But you aren't going back to the Double Javelins,” adds Shifty. “Try that, and we'll kill you for sure.”

The heroes draw off to the side to talk about this new intelligence. It is plain that the weapon, whatever it may be, is a direct danger to their dominion. Thannix has already proven that his intentions are hostile by seizing Woodcut; with an ancient weapon powered by those strange crystals, who knows what kind of danger he would present? Clearly, the party must stop him from obtaining it.

“And what about you?” Shar asks their newest companion, Lithieln. “If you'd care to join us on this mission, we'd be happy to have you, continuing our arrangement.”

“I have to admit, you have aroused my curiosity with all this talk of metal roads and ancient weapons,” the assassin responds. “I'll come, at least for the moment.”

***

Their captive, true to his word, leads them through the ruins until they reach a passage from an old basement that descends into the earth. Clearly artificial, it is supported by rotting timbers. It is just wide enough for two of them to walk abreast. Karl and one of Shar's sunrods light their way. After less than an eighth of a mile, the passage abruptly spills into a much wider, perpendicular passage, also clearly artificial. And, yes, the ground is lined in metal.

Shifty turns to the Double Javelin. “All right, you've played it straight so far,” he says. “Which way is the weapon?”

“We were told to head to the right once we reached it. But the side passage is some ways distant, and the tunnel may be stalked by monsters.”

Shar nods. “Very well. You have done all that we asked, and so we will honor our words as well. You may go. But if you return to the Double Javelins, we will show you no mercy.”

“Neither will Thannix,” adds Kane with a smirk, “since you have failed him.”

The mercenary's face goes pale. “As you say,” he mumbles at last, and then turns and hurries away, back towards the surface.

“All right,” says Shar then, “everyone be on guard. Let's go.”

They begin to progress down the metal roadway. It is clearly a roadway, with strange tracks in the ground in places. The sides have raised railings, although in places falling rocks or other events over the millenia have knocked parts of the railing away. Nonetheless, in many area near the railing there are series of hieroglyphics or pictographs of some kind. They seem to depict a society run by cat-folk of some kind.

“This might be a relic of the Miloxi Empire,” Karl says. “A very old empire of a race called the tabaxi- basically cat people. The crystals imply that, too.”

The move along for hours. The roadway does indeed prove to have creatures haunting it; at one point, the party is attacked by a diseased, garotte-wielding humanoid. As they battle, a collection of weird, incorporeal things that look like floating, tentacled pancakes moves in to feed off of the energy of the fight, attempting to eat the thoughts of our heroes as well. But the party has learned to work together by now; they quickly cut their enemies down and move on, although Shar comes down with a mild case of the meazels from the fight.

Finally, after another hour and a half, they come to a metal door to the side.

“This is probably it,” says Shar.

“Let's find out,” says Kane, pushing the door open. It swings open soundlessly, and the ceiling of the dark chamber before them starts to glow, dimly at first and then brightening.

The room revealed has two doors leading from it; but far more interesting, there is a panel covered with switches, buttons and levers. Little lights on it are flickering to life. Unfortunately our heroes have no time to take the scene in- for a pair of mechanical beasts, shaped like pumas, rush forward to attack.

Immediately, Kane strides to meet them, his axe whistling as he swings it into one of the leaping clockwork constructs with a metallic clang, knocking it back. Then he advances towards the other while the first scrambles back to its feet.

Karl zaps both of the cat-things with a scorching burst while Shar, Lithieln and Shifty follow hot on Kane's heels. A sudden racheting sound catches Shar's ears, and she watches in horror as four hatches in the ceiling sphincter open, releasing long metal tentacles crackling with electricity. “Look out!” she cries.

WHAM! Shifty is smacked hard and flies back into the wall with a yelp. He struggles back to his feet even as the cat-constructs bound towards him. Fortunately, Kane is there, and he swings his axe at the already wounded thing, dealing severe damage to it. Shifty follows this up with an expert thrust that transfixes the machine. Oil and smoke pour out of it and a strange burning smell* wafts up.

The other clockwork puma gathers itself to spring, but Lithieln grabs its shadow and jerks it off its feet. It struggles to right itself, but Karl blasts it with a magic missile and Shar hacks at it, denting and finally shearing through its metal plating. The cat-thing spasms and goes still, sending up a cloud of blue sparks.

Then a metal tentacle wraps around her feet and yanks her up, dangling her above the ground. Shar gives a startled cry that quickly turns into an agonized howl as electricity courses through the tentacle, delivering a punishing jolt to her.

“Husband!” she cries. “Help me!”

Shifty and Kane both spring to her aid, cutting at the tentacle gripping her; but before they can make much progress, another of the metal limbs smashes into Kane, knocking him away. He falls to the ground with a crash, then springs right back up and wrestles with the tentacle holding him. He grunts as the cords of his muscles go taut, standing out like steel cables as he struggles with the inhuman strength of the defensive trap.

Lithieln hurls shadow darts at the tentacle holding Shar, and they impact just like they were made of metal or wood, leaving small smoking dimples in the tentacle. With a grunt, Shar hews the tentacle holding her with her sword, and Karl goes into a wizard's fury, firing multiple magic missiles at it in a volley. The little darts of force blast the tentacle in the spot where Lithieln has already weakened it, and the first tentacle is blasted free of the ceiling. Shar throws herself free of it and comes up on her feet in time to take a blow to the head from another of the tentacles. She staggers back, groaning in pain, and pronounces a healing word on herself.

The tentacle holding Kane thrashes around as he goes into a rage and breaks free of its grip, then aims a mighty swing of his greataxe at it. It comes in, snake-like, for another strike at him, but he bats it away- and Shifty springs in, thrusting his subtle shortsword in through a rent in its metal housing. Sparks rise up and the strange burning smell comes again as the second tentacle goes limp.

Now there are only two. Karl keeps up a steady barrage of magic missiles while the others engage at closer range. Kane and Shifty beat at one of them while Shar and Lithieln fend off the other. Soon only the last tentacle remains, and although it manages to send another jolt of electricity through Kane before the battle is won, won it is.

A quick fight- but an intense one. Our heroes are worn and wounded. They take a few moments to rest, then examine their surroundings more thoroughly. There are two doors out of the chamber. The control panel proves to have a bewildering array of buttons, levers and switches on it, as well as several dials and indicators. For now, the party decides to leave it alone.

The two doors, then. The first one- the one in the back left corner of the chamber- leads to a short, metal-lined hallway that extends about 20' before ending in another metal door. Behind this are more controls. The other door out of the first room is locked, and for the moment, the party decides to leave it that way.

“Let's camp here,” suggests Karl. “I've expended a number of my big spells, and I'd like to recover them before we fight anything else.”

“Sure,” agrees Shar. “Sounds good.”

However, there is one small complication: they cannot figure out how to close the outer door to the metal roadway. They debate messing around with the controls, but decide against it for now. Instead, they set their camp up in the inner chamber, since they are able to open and close the door to the entry chamber with ease. Then they set up camp and watches and settle in for the night.

***

Grouff poured over the sheet of crystal, carefully translating it a word at a time. She was transcribing it into the thick tome next to her. Carefully scriven in the ink of a kraken, sealed in scent and blood, the meaning of the ancient Miloxi words would be taken from the degenerate tabaxi that survived and given to the Great Pack.

Had she had lips, Grouff might have smiled at the irony. She was damn sure that the ancient Miloxi had smiled when they had made dog-folk to serve them- raising up the canus from common dogs, manipulating the formerly far more lizard-like kobolds, discarding the gnolls as failed experiments. Who knows how many other cousin species we have? the canus thought bitterly. How many went extinct because the Miloxi Empire considered them unfit? Oh, it was hubris that led you to attempt to twist the natural order by turning your predators into servants. And how did that work out for you in the end? Nobody remembers what really destroyed your empire, do they? But I'll bet we had a hand in it- just as we have a hand, now, in ensuring that your kind remains hunted and driven. The day will come when the last tabaxi lies before us, and we tear out its throat; I only hope that day comes in my lifetime.

Grouff became aware of the technician nearby fidgeting. She smiled mentally, but outwardly she merely fixed him with a hard stare. He quelled immediately. While she couldn't help but applaud his eagerness to get started, she still had to ensure that he knew who the alpha bitch was. So she rose and stalked towards him. His ears flattened against his skull and he lowered his head. His tail tucked between his legs. His manner told her all that she needed to know: he knew his place. She need do nothing more; she returned to her work.

After a few more moments, she said, “I have nearly completed your copy of the ritual.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” he whined. He was still afraid; good.

“You will leave immediately when it is ready,” she continued. “It is possible that the weapon cannot be moved; you may need to master the ritual and perform it there. If so, you will need to send one of the omegas back for components. If the weapon can be moved back here first, that is preferable and will allow us to check it for traps laid against our kind.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Under no circumstances are you to bind the weapon to any non-canus.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

Grouff nodded. “The final characters,” she pronounced with satisfaction as she carefully transcribed the last of the ancient ritual. Then she sprinkled fine black sand on the ink to help it set. Together, she and the technician waited patiently as the ink dried. He could hardly contain himself again; his tail was wagging spastically back and forth.

Finally she closed the book and handed it to him. “Go,” she said. “Do not fail.”

“Of course,” the technician replied.

“Take Lur, his dog and several lackeys. Leave immediately. Waste no time. Go!” she barked.

The technician hurried off to gather his allies. Lur would ensure there were no mistakes, Grouff knew; that technician was too weak to lead. He belonged in the third rank, but there weren't enough of the Pack present to spare a better second for Lur.

Well, it shouldn't take more than a few hours for the team to reach the weapon. It would be long before dawn.

Time to play with the tabaxi some more. Grouff smiled viciously.

Next Time: Ambushed by canus! What is the weapon?


*Most pcs in my world are unfamiliar with the smell of an electrical fire.

 

[the Jester]

Lithieln, on watch as the others rest, hears noise from the outer room. They have sealed themselves in behind the door that they could figure out how to close, and most of our heroes are deep asleep.

Well, not for long. The assassin quietly wakes the others, moving as quickly as she can while maintaining a suitable silence herself. After all, they might be able to surprise whoever is in the outer room, if they stay quiet and move fast. She shakes the others while pressing a hand to her lips.

The others get the message. The last few months of hard travel and adventure have taught them to wake fully in a bare instant, to be prepared to fight at a moment's notice. Now those skills serve them well. Very shortly they are ready; and they open the door and spring out.

The intruders are- dogs.

One is a large hunting dog of some kind, which immediately starts barking loudly as the party rushes forth. The others, though- the others are dog-people. Neither kobolds (which are both dog- and lizard-like) nor gnolls (which are hyena-like), these things are... something else. Humanoid, wielding weapons, one with a harness that reminds Shifty of the one that the one of the cat-people that the party fought in the center of Burnt Field.

That's where all this crystal mess started, he realizes. These things must be connected to the catfolk, and I'll bet they're here to try to get this same weapon. Then his eyes widen as he realizes that they have somehow opened the other door.

Even as the thoughts flash through his mind, his wrist snaps and a shuriken spins through the air and sinks into the eye of the first canus. It yelps, sounding for all the world like a kicked dog, and tumbles back to lie unmoving on the ground.

The party has a moment of surprise and they use it, rushing to the attack. Quickly, they dispatch several of the dog-folk. However, one of the canus maneuvers atop the control panel during the fighting, and several levers and switches are pressed and, in a couple of cases, damaged.

Our heroes easily finish off the remaining canus, but several indicators on the panel are starting to creep upwards towards a red zone. The party can't read the strange markings on the panel, but red surely cannot be good.

“Well, before it gets out of hand, let's look through that door.” So saying, Shifty looks through- and makes a choked exclamation.

Beyond the door is some kind of translucent, semi-gelatinous... membrane. It looks very organic and somewhat slimy. Beyond that is a large vaguely humanoid shadow.

“I bet that's the weapon,” says Lithieln.

The party pokes at the membrane a few times. It gives, but not easily. After some consideration, Shifty decides to try to squirm through it, and he wiggles his way into the membrane and eventually through it. Where he passed through it, he left a hole that the others can pass through as well.

“We shouldn't all go through at once,” the gnome governor says, “but you guys should see this.”

Beyond the barrier is a hugely oversized suit of armor. It is obvious that the central area is sized for a human-sized creature; and yet the armor itself is as large as an ogre, with huge gripping appendages in place of fingers.

Yet as strange as the armor is, a profound sense of unease strikes our heroes immediately upon entering the small room beyond the membrane- for the ceiling glows with rows of violet crystal.

Worse yet, when they emerge, they find that several of the indicators on the control panel have reached their red zones- and the door out has sealed itself.

Next Time: Whoops! What now?