Adventures in the Eastern Provinces

[the Jester]

Alkor scans the horizon, his sharp eyes taking in every feature of the ruined cityscape ahead. “Whatever that flying thing was, it's out of the sky now,” he tells his companions.

“Good,” grunts Lupark. Orza shoulders her spear and the three companions proceed towards the ruined city. Before long the ruined shells of buildings are to either side as they walk down the decaying avenue.

“That's the building,” says Orza. “I can sense him.” She hesitates for a moment, then adds, “He's still a ways off, though.”

Alkor shrugs. “Whatever you say,” he tells the deva. “It's your mission. I'm just here to help.”

Lupark snorts. The three companions head into the ruined building, and within it they find a series of passages that lead downward to a strange metal roadway.

Karlinden, Orza thinks, I'm coming.

***

CRASH!

Kane rebounds from the sealed door, landing on his butt with a loud “Oof!” With a grunt, he gets up and brushes himself off.

“Nope,” he says, “we aren't going to be able to force it.”

Shifty pulls out his thieves' picks. “I guess it's my turn, then.” He moves over to the door and sets to work, but there is no visible lock to work with, nor does the door have any obvious mechanisms that he can attack.

Karl, meanwhile, examines the damaged control panel. I suspect that when Shifty and the dog-man fought atop the control panel, something got tweaked or broken. Unfortunately, there's no way to tell what happened or how to reverse it. Those gauges... the indicators are in the red, and they weren't when we entered this place. And there are no labels for me to try to interpret.

“I can't get this,” Shifty says, frustrated. He stands up and puts his tools away, paces around the room.

Shar sighs. “Well, if there's danger from something here, I bet it's that armor or the chamber that it's in. It's full of that weird crystal. We can at least get back into the inner chamber; that way there is another wall between us and that room.”

“Good idea,” Shifty nods.

The party retreats to the inner chamber and closes the door.

“What now?” asks Lithieln.

There is no other way out of the place, so the party comes to the uncomfortable decision that they have to wait. “Well, we were in the middle of sleeping when those dogs attacked us,” Kane says with a shrug.

“If you can go to sleep at a time like this, go right ahead,” retorts Sepia.

The barbarian is already laying down with his head on his backpack. He chuckles. “When you have been a mercenary, you can sleep through anything.” He closes his eyes. “Even with a demon like you watching.”

“So we just wait,” Karl sighs.

It really isn't a question, and there really isn't much else to say.

Eventually, most of the party does drop off into sleep. They are tired; they need it. With their rest interrupted by the canus, every hour of sleep that they can get now is precious. There is always at least one person awake to keep watch, but for the most part, the party sleeps for four or five more hours.

Once they have woken, the party readies for combat and throws the door to the outer chamber open again. Fearing a radioactive hell, the party instead finds the outer door open and the indicators back down out of the red.

“It would seem,” Shar says, “that we have successfully waited it out. What are we going to do now? That's the weapon that the Double Javelins want- I'd bet on it. We know where it is; they have a good idea of where it is.”

“One of those canus had a ritual book,” Karl declares. “The ritual in it will bind someone to that armor, but I think it's permanent.”

“That's not so bad,” Lithieln comments.

“I mean you wouldn't be able to get out of it, ever.”

“Oh,” she says, “that's not so cool after all.”

“My point is,” the Magus Incarnum continues, “we could use that ritual to bind someone to the armor before they do, if we had a volunteer.”

“Why do we need a volunteer?” Shifty asks ironically. “We can always conscript.”

“I don't think we want a resentful conscript in that thing,” Karl replies. “That could lead to some ugly situations.”

“We'll have to think about it,” the gnome says. “Do you think those canus were connected to the Double Javelins?”

“It seems like an awfully big coincidence if they aren't,” Shar muses.

***

The metal road continues on past the small complex of rooms that holds the armor. “I wonder what is at the end,” mutters Karl.

“That's a very good question.” With that, Shar leads the way further down the road, its weird hieroglyphs graven everywhere. They follow the road along. It is elevated on great pylons, and for several miles more they continue down the path before breaking for a meal. While the others set up the food, Lithieln and Shifty scout ahead.

They come back almost an hour later, shaken and covered in translucent goop. “What happened?” exclaims Shar.

“Gelatinous cube,” answers Lithieln with a shiver.

***

The echoes of the party's footsteps ring around them as they continue down the roadway. It is eerie, empty; there is a sense of vastness in the tunnels all around them. The passage goes on for several more miles before, finally, there is a change.

And what a change it is.

Ahead, the roadway is twisted and broken. Illuminated by the party's sunrods, the scene looks almost like some great giant twisted and pulled on either end of the roadway until the metal stretched and broke. Viciously sharp scalloped edges and spear-like strands of cabling, revealed where the interior structure of the road has been opened to view, poke out of the warped ends. The far side of the road no longer stands- it has bent and collapsed, and- strangest of all- something is... harvesting the metal.

Small, insect-like machines the size of small dogs swarm over the portion of the road that has fallen to the floor of the vast chamber, gleaming copper in the light of the sunrod, their mandibles cutting sheets of metal free. An ant-like line of the strange constructs is carrying the metal away, but the party's light doesn't reveal where to.

“What the hell are those things?” wonders Lithieln aloud.

“Clockwork horrors,” says Karl.

Next Time: Our heroes delve into the realm of the horrors!

 

[the Jester]

The clockwork horrors act for all the world like leafcutter ants harvesting slivers of vegetation- but it isn't vegetation at all. It is metal- sliced from the great underground roadway that our heroes have been traversing.

“Why?” wonders Sepia aloud.

“To make more,” Shifty opines grimly. “To reproduce.”

The party stares at the horrors for a while, observing them. Each small insectoid construct has a jewel set in its head- a gem of a by-now familiar violet hue. “More of those damn things!” exclaims the gnome governor. “Those are nothing but trouble!”

An underground waterway, about 30' across, separates the horrors from our heroes. “Whatever they are after can't be good,” Karl says. “With that water between them and us, we might be able to pick them off, at least the ones near it.”

“You don't think they can cross the water?” inquires Lithieln.

“Well, it's moving reasonably quickly and they're pretty small. I wouldn't doubt that they can cross- but I would be really surprised if they can do it quickly.”

“All right, we'll try it,” decides Shifty.

The party hangs back and Karl, who has a considerably greater range than the others, begins picking horrors off with magic missiles. Each time one of his spells finds its target, the horror is blown to smithereens, and better yet, at first the others don't respond. However, the situation changes quickly once the mage has destroyed three of the metal bugs. The others hurry to the edge of the waterway and start to build a bridge across it with their own bodies!

“Crap,” Lithieln mutters.

But Karl's superior intellect easily pinpoints the weakness in this stratagem, and he magic missiles the horrors trying to form the “base” of the bridge, sending the rest toppling into the water. Unfortunately, although he is correct- they cannot move too fast in the current- they start crawling steadily along the bottom towards the far side.

So our heroes beat a retreat, moving back until the horrors give up their pursuit.

“At least they don't seem too smart,” Karl remarks. “Perhaps they are limited to simple basic programs.”

“Maybe,” replies Lithieln. “Do you suppose there is someone in charge of them?”

Shifty frowns at the suggestion. “Let's hope not,” he says fervently.

The group moves forward again, and this time when they approach the horrors they refrain from any kind of attack, limiting themselves to observation only. After a few minutes, they pinpoint a large side tunnel that seems to have a great number of the copper horrors moving in and out of it, those heading in bearing scraps of metal shorn from the collapsed roadway while those emerging are empty-mandibled. A little bold experimentation proves that they can approach without attracting the attention of the horrors, at least if they don't attack.

With a collective deep breath, they head down the passage.

Like the roadway, the passage is lined with metal. However, there are no signs of the hieroglyphic characters that adorned the road. Seams and rivets are haphazard, and the reason is clear: this hall was paneled by fragments of the roadway.

After perhaps a thousand feet, the hall splits into four passages. The clockwork horrors split, too, seemingly heading in- and coming from- all directions. Each passage looks about as good as the next; before proceeding, Shifty scratches a mark in their chosen direction with a dagger.

They continue along, with the passage periodically branching and our heroes marking their way most carefully. The number of horrors thins, but then our heroes begin to pass silent, immobile specimens with no 'glow' coming from within their crystal. Spooky- and even spookier, they grow in number the deeper the party goes.

“I wonder if we can just destroy these inactive ones,” muses Lithieln. “Get them while they won't fight back.” She draws her blade and approaches one.

“Careful!” Karl warns sharply.

But the copper horror doesn't respond, even when she smashes its crystal with the hilt of her dagger. With a shrug, she turns to the next one and smashes its crystal as well.

“No problem,” she says.

And then all the other immobile horrors flicker to life and start to move in a huge, inexorable tide towards our heroes.

“Whoops!” she cries.

The party begins to fight. These copper horrors seem to be almost fragile; they are easily destroyed, and after a few moments it appears that things will be just fine as our heroes whittle the numbers around them to nothing.

“That wasn't so bad,” Lithieln remarks.

“Not yet,” replies Shifty. “But there are a whole lot more of these things. Be careful- try not to get any of us killed.”

“Right.”

The party continues, and shortly they come to more inactive horrors. Many more. They practically litter the metal-lined hall; there are hardly any active ones in sight.

But this time things are different. When they get close, all the inactive horrors come to life. At first things look to go the same as before; the copper horrors aren't sturdy enough to take a blow, and one by one our heroes cut them to bits.

But more are coming from the depths of the halls, and two of them are silver, not copper. More formidable than their copper brethren, these two prove to be armed not merely with the vicious cutting mandibles of their lesser kin, but also with steam-powered, spring-loaded dart throwing weapons! They are significantly more formidable, but once again Lithieln uses her adversary's shadow like a noose while Shifty hacks and stabs. This time, they are pressed much harder, and after cutting the silver horrors down they beat a hasty retreat, following their marks back to the entrance and then retreating to the metal roadway to recuperate.

“Maybe we should just move on,” Karl suggests. “You don't think they have any loot in there, do you?”

“Loot?” exclaims Shifty. “They are loot! Loot on legs! How many pounds of silver do you think are in one of those silver bugs?”

“I see your point.”

“And what if there are even more valuable types?”

“Well,” Karl admits, “the stories do tell of clockwork horrors made of gold, electrum- even platinum.”

“That settles it. After we rest, we're going back in.”

***

The party creeps back in towards where they fought the silver horrors, but this time the constructs attack them first. Waves of copper bugs 3' long pour out at the party, who fight with aplomb and verve.

Then two silver horrors, followed by an electrum one, pour in. The electrum horror proves to be armed with a weapon even more dangerous than the steam darts of the silver ones: a rod that shoots a bolt of lightning!

Things fall apart very quickly. “There are too many of them!” cries Karl, falling back and trying to keep the mass of horrors from reaching him. Shifty and Lithieln have both sprung ahead and cleared a path forward- but there are more coming from side passages that threaten to cut them off from their retreat. “Watch out!” the wizard shouts.

Trying to cut their way back, the governor and the assassin work desperately. Lithieln springs from shadow to shadow, but a bolt of lightning transfixes her in a screaming ball of blue electricity. She falls to the ground, unconscious, and the horrors near her seize her!

“Lithium!”* cries Shifty.

“We've got to fall back,” Karl moans, hurling scorching bursts down the hall. At last the number of copper horrors is thinning, but the others-

Shifty hesitates for a moment. She's not worth it, he groans silently, and springs forward to engage the electrum horror, which is between him and his fallen companion.

Things do not go so well with that. Almost immediately, Shifty finds himself bleeding and nearly electrocuted. He can barely stand, but in turn he has badly damaged the electrum horror. A strange smell, like something very weird burning**, is now coming from the thing; foul, odoriferous liquids are draining from it. Its movements have become jerky, hesitant.

Karl, meanwhile, focuses desperately on picking off the horrors dragging his unconscious ally away, entering a wizard's fury and blasting horror after horror.

But more are coming out- many more; another whole wave.

Shifty thrusts again, and his dagger skitters from the electrum horror's armor. Then it blasts him with another stroke of lightning, and Governor Shifty collapses.

“NOOOO!!” cries Karl.

The silver horrors fire their steam darts at him, wounding him. More copper horrors are pouring out all over; some seize Lithieln again and drag her away. Others take hold of Shifty's unmoving form and pull it away.

Scorching bursts and magic missiles; the wizard knows it will not be enough. But still, he keeps fighting beyond any sense, far past the moment when a lesser man would flee.

But in the end, flee he does.

Next Time: Will Lithieln or Shifty survive?


*Lithieln got the nickname 'Lithium' possibly even before introducing the character in game.

**Think electrical fire.

 

[the Jester]

The party is out of breath, gasping, when they again exit the tunnel.

“We can't leave them behind,” Kane groans.

“Of course not,” Karlinden replies, “but we need a minute to catch our breaths first.”

“They could be dying in there!”

“If they were dying, they are dead already. If they are not already dead, they are not dying.” Kane folds his arms in front of his chest as the wizard speaks. He doesn't like it, but he sees the elf's point.

“If only we had some more help,” Karlinden starts, and three figures come around the corner of the trail. Surprised, the newcomers halt, hands dropping toward their weapons. Karl raises a hand and cries, “Peace, friends!”

The strangers hesitate, then the first, a heavily armored man, speaks. “Who are you folks?”

The second, who is dressed in a more feral way, with furs and hides, adds, “You've the look of adventurers to you.”

“We are, indeed,” Karl replies gravely. “And so do you.”

“Well, we have that in common, then.”

“Listen, we have some friends in trouble, and we could use some help rescuing them.”

“Is there any treasure involved?”

“Bugs the size of dogs,” Kane says, “made of copper and silver, and a few we saw were electrum.” He smiles. “Deeper in, who knows?”

“We've heard rumors of gold ones, and even platinum,” Karl declares.

“Hmm,” say the two strangers together.

The third, staring at Karl, asks, “Is your name Karlinden, by any chance?”

Startled, the mage says, “That is me.”

“I'm glad to have found you!” he exclaims. “My name is Alkar. I'm a ranger. My companions are Orzza and Lupark.” The two (who turn out to be a paladin and warden, respectively) nod greetings.

“And why are you looking for our friend?” rumbles Kane, hand near the hilt of his sword.

“My mistress sends a warning,” the ranger replies.

***

Alkar's tracking skills allow him to lead the party back in. The lack of impressions in the metal of the tunnel floor is made up by its tendency to hold smudges and bloody prints. He uses his nose, too, allowing the scent of blood and sweat to guide him along. There are a few copper horrors here and there along the way, but they ignore the party, so the party ignores them right back.

When they come to the scene of the battle, among the shattered clockwork horrors, they find but a single corpse: Lithieln.

“Shifty's not here.” Karlinden states the obvious.

“We're going after a guy named Shifty?” exclaims the more civilized-looking newcomer, Orzza. “Are you sure he's worth it?”

“Not really,” mutters Alkar, but Kane speaks over him: “We do not leave our own behind.”

The less civilzed-looking new member of the party, Lupark, shrugs. “I'll take point.”

***

When they burst into the room holding Shifty, it's like staring at a nightmare. The unconscious gnome is strapped to a table, all four limbs shackled separately to ings along its edges. The table is built onto a moving conveyer belt that winds its way through several stations in the chamber. Buzzing saws and razor-sharp scalpels wave and hover over each station, moving on the end of metal arms as if alive. A conspicuously large waste container full of limbs and other body parts is near one of the stations. A much larger dumpster full of bodies with metal addendums seemingly grafted onto them lies near the final station.

Banks of strange machinery, much of which includes blinking lights and strange blooping sounds, line the walls of the chamber. At the far end, a large ceramic jar full of bubbling brine holds a large jar.

Oh dear! The thought comes clearly to everyone in the chamber (except for the unconscious Shifty). I didn't expect you quite so soon. Well, leave now, and you shan't share your friend's fate. That's the only offer I will make.

“It-it's that brain!” exclaims Karlinden in horror.

“A demon!” cries Kane.

I'm no demon, you idiot, the brain in the jar exclaims, and sudden pain shoots into Kane's head. The warrior cries in pain, then drags his sword out of its sheath.

Clockwork horrors begin to pour into the room. The conveyer belt moves swiftly, bringing Shifty into the first station. Amongst the copper horrors, Shifty sees a few silver ones, and a trio of strange-looking humanoids. It seems large parts of their bodies have been replaced by machinery...

“I don't think so,” cries Orzza, and rushes forward, using his paladin abilities to strike down a horror even as he unleashes a flood of healing power into the captive gnome.

Shifty's eyes flutter, and open, and he cries out in terror.

A scalpel circles above him, then slices down, cutting into his right shoulder.

Gritting his teeth, he dislocates his thumbs. He slips one hand free of its bond, then the other, then slaps his hands together. His thumbs pop back into place, and he rolls his body aside as a spinning metal saw slices for his cranium.

Then the conveyer belt draws him onward, toward the next station.

Kane, meanwhile, brutally destroys one of the half-machine, half-humans, then rushes toward the brain in the jar. Karl hurls spells at it and Alkar fires arrow after arrow into its glass casing, defended by Orzza and Lupark.

Cracks start to form in the jar.

Shifty rolls his body to the side, dodging another waving surgical tool, and manages to pick the lock keeping his left ankle attached to the table. Almost free! he thinks.

He eyes the brain in the jar. The belt is almost at its closest approach... Fingers moving furiously, he frees his other foot, then leaps off the table just before it reaches the next station.

His hand is a blur. His dagger pierces the jar, and it shatters.

No! Why would you do this! the brain thinks. Already its voice is fading. No fair! I'm smarter than any of you! No... no fair. I should have lived foreverrrr.... Then it goes silent. The reek of the fluids preserving it reach the party, nearly gagging them. The group retreats.

“Thank you, guys,” Shifty exclaims. “I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come to rescue me!”

“You would probably have ended up as one of those clockwork servitor, half-machine things that the brain was commanding,” Orzza says.

“If you survived the process,” Karl adds. “There were a lot more corpses in the dumpster than there were machine men down there.”

Shifty shivers.

“You're welcome,” Kane growls, giving Shifty the sort of smile that looks like a threat.

Karl goes on. “In any event, we need to get out of here and back to Overland. Alkar's mistress, a ranger lord, has sent word that the goblins of the Black Brambles have joined the Double Javelins, and they're marshalling for an attack.”

“The who? What now?” Shifty shakes his head.

“The Double Javelins are the... free company that I used to run with. Mercenaries. Survivors.” Kane laughs. “Time to lead, governor.”

***

Once the party returns to Overland, they begin to muster and train defenders. Alkar immediately starts archery drills, while the others evacuate the tiny community of Woodcut to the relative safety of Overland, which at least is the point of concentration of resistance.

Before long, the first raiding parties begin to harass the farmers and peasants in the outlying fields. Bradford, Orzza, Shifty, and Alkar lead a team that scatters them and sends the survivors flying back to the main force, which still lurks in the brambles. Bradford acquits himself with honor during this battle. (He officially graduates from being a minion to being a level 1 skirmisher.)

Afterward, the heroes discuss the strategic situation. “We might be able to prevent some loss of life if we can head off the attack before it comes,” argues Orzza. “Take the fight to them, and it won't be our fields and houses that burn. Any collateral damage will be on their territory.”

“We do weaken Overland's defenses by leaving it, though,” Karlinded points out. “We risk an attack while we're gone.”

“We risk an attack if we stay,” Kane points out. “To attack is always better. Besides, I know the Double Javelins. Better to fight them in the brambles, where their movements are restricted.”

The debate goes well into the night, but in the end, Kane and Orzza carry the day. The group agrees: they will attack.

***

Into the Black Brambles. The goblins that live inside the place know its tangled paths. They know the best ways to get around in the thickets. The party does not. In their favor, neither do the Double Javelins.

The group manages to talk their way past a swarm of cavorting sprites accompanied by a pseudodragon named Nom, who proves friendly enough after an offering of wine and honey.

Though Nom only chirps and burbles, the sprites translate, and he offers to help the party find the Double Javelins and their allies. It seems that he and his allies don't like them or approve of their effect on the surrounding terrain, trampling flowers and smashing toadstools and the like (not to mention all the hunting!).

This leads to a campaign of several exhausting days of guerilla attacks on Double Javelin and goblin forces. Our heroes have several skirmishes, coming out on top each time, all of which leave at least a handful of dead enemies behind. At least one results in the loss of significant food stores.

The party must deal with other dangers of the swamp, as well. Krenshar and stranger things assail them, but the party triumphs against them all.

“We've been doing well,” remarks Alkar. “But we're about to run into a significant problem.”

“What's that?” asks Kane.

“I'm down to my last two arrows.”

“How are our supplies?” wonders Karl.

It is time to return to Overland to resupply. And more than that: they have a valuable piece of intelligence that they have gathered during this mission to follow up on. It seems that there are already Double Javelins hidden in the town.

Next Time: The attack on Overland!

 

[the Jester]

In the Tower of Deryndradin- Karlinden's master- our heroes talk over the situation with the Double Javelins.

The Double Javelins are a so-called free company- a group of mercenaries, bandits, and thugs who have banded together, offering to employ their skills for coin. They have developed a specialization involving launching volleys of javelins, with each soldier hurling one while holding a second in his or her other hand, then swiftly transfering it to hurl a second volley almost immediately after the first. It's an effective and terrifying tactic, and one that both Shar and Kane are familiar with, for they both ran with the Double Javelins before starting to adventure with the party.

Of course, there isn't much of anyone left to hire the free company any more. Since the fall of civilization, there have been small battles of a few dozen or hundred people against orcs or goblins, but no wars. After all, who would one make war on?

Looking at a map of the area, Karlinden thrusts a finger down, indicating the largest community in the area. “Goldwash is the real prize.” He looks up at Shar and Kane for confirmation. “It's the richest place in the area. It's where the gold is. Do they have the numbers to take it?”

Kane gives a feral grin. “There are, what, maybe two thousand people in Goldwash? So make that, at most, a couple of hundred amateur fighters... They don't stand a chance.”

Shar says, “According to those goblins in the brambles, the javelinsare going to move on Woodcut first. I assume that's to give themselves a good staging ground. If they can do that, they gain supplies, as well as a defensible place that they can rest at, just a quick jog away from their real target.”

Bradford speaks up. “We need to start training as many defenders as we can.”

“There's no reason we, as governors, can't form a bigger militia,” Shifty declares. “Let's do it.”

“Those goblins said that the Double Javelins already have people here, watching,” Alkor reminds them. “We should try to track them down.”

“And take them out,” Bradford says.

“Hold on,” Karlinden protests. “If we take them out, then the rest of the Double Javelins will know we're on to them. Is that what we want? Or do we want to try to surprise them?”

“It's going to be hard both recruiting and training people and keeping it secret,” Shifty points out.

“And if we eliminate some of them now, there are less to deal with in the future,” agrees Shar. “But we can at least try to find out more about their plans first. Both Kane and I might even know the guys who are here.”

“Best I talk to them alone,” growls Kane. “They might have heard you're one of the powers that be now.”

***

Sepia and Shifty put their figurative ears to the ground. It doesn't take them long to track the Double Javelins down. Naturally, they're in the hardest tavern in town- the Silver Fish. Alkor, Bradford, and Ozzra position themselves outside, out of sight but where they can see the doors that lead in and out of the place.

Kane enters the tavern, sniffing at the smell of pipe smoke, fish stew, and beer within. He stalks over to the bar and orders a beer before glancing around. At a table in the room's darkest corner, he recognizes most of the people playing dice. They are his old compatriots. He pushes himself from the bar and makes his way to the table, pulling up a stool.

“Kane!” says a man whose face, but not name, he knows. “It's been a while!”

“Aye,” Kane answers.

“Where've you been?”

“Hunting treasure.”

That gets the rest of the table's attention. “You have any luck?”

“Some.” He curls his upper lip. “I'm sure I've had enough luck to join your game.” He draws a gold piece from his pouch and tosses it into the center of the table.

“Be welcome,” grins the other.

For a few minutes Kane gambles carelessly, letting the others win a few gold pieces to put them at ease. He listens carefully, as does a cloaked and hooded Sepia, each of them picking up a few pieces of information: the numbers of the Double Javelins, when they will attack Woodcut (soon, soon), what allies they have (a few ogres)... where they are encamped (near the damned Black Brambles still and again!).

The two of them also learn something else: the identity of the leader of the Double Javelins. Thannox, Kane thinks grimly. Of course it's Thannox.

After about an hour, Kane finishes his final beer and excuses himself. He exits the Silver Fish and rendezvous with his friends. After he reports what he learned, Alkor says, “All right. We let them leave, then ambush them. Let one escape, then track him to the rest.”

But their plan goes awry. When they engage the Double Javelins, none retreat; all fight to the death. Between Alkor's feathered shafts and the mighty thews of Kane, that doesn't take long.

“Well, we still learned a lot,” Shar sighs.

Orzza rubs his chin. “Tell us about this Thannox guy.”

“He's bad news,” Kane replies. “He's as tough as any of the Double Javelins.”

“He's not one to fool around with,” Shar agrees. “He's got a sharp mind for military matters. And he's got a streak of cruelty that runs pretty wide and deep. So we definitely don't want him in charge of things around here.”

“Hey, we're in charge of things around here,” Shifty declares.

***

Over the next week, the party starts recruiting volunteers. Soon they've gotten 25 citizens from Overland and a dozen dwarves, gotten them some degree or arms and armor, and begun training them to fight.

Reports begin to come in of an ogre lurking around the outskirts of Woodcut. Clearly, the Double Javelins are getting ready to make their move. Just as clearly, our heroes need to move fast to intercept them and prevent them from gaining a foothold.

“Our guys aren't ready yet,” Shifty complains. “They need weeks or months of training before they're really ready for a fight. Not to mention how few of us there are compared to the javelins.”

“We can't just do nothing,” Shar counters. “We're the governors now. We're responsible for this area, husband. ”

“Gods damn it!” Shifty swears, running his hands through his combover.

One of the recruits, a woman as wiry and tough as a strip of jerky, shows both more natural talent for battle and more charisma than the others, and our heroes grant her the rank of Corporal. Once they are sure that she can handle running the basic training programs for the rest, they leave her in charge and strike out toward Woodcut.

***

A day up the creek toward Woodcut, our heroes meet up with a man named Whiz who is driving a hay wagon. He is also going toward Woodcut. Bradford suggests that they ride under the hay to hide their presence as they approach the little village. Whiz is happy to help, especially after Orzza slips him a handful of gold coins. Whiz' eyes fairly bulge from their sockets; he's never received so much money at once in his life. Ah, adventurers.

Unseen, the party reaches Woodcut. Unseen within a barn, they emerge from the hay. Unnoticed, Sepia, Shifty, and Alkor slip out into the dusk and begin to search around, while the others prepare for battle and wrap themselves in dark cloaks or rub soot on their faces to aid their attempts and stealth.

Soon Alkor espies one farm house whose fields look as though they've not been tended in a couple of weeks, yet one that is lit up from within. Scanning the ground near it for tracks, he finds signs of the ogre. This is it, he thinks with satisfaction. The scouts return to the barn where the others await.

Soon, the entire party moves as stealthily as possible back to the suspect farm house. Sepia sneaks forward and manages to peek inside, then returns to report, “I saw the ogre and three javelineers. There could be more deeper inside, though.”

“They haven't taken the village yet,” Karl states. “This is probably as good of an opportunity to take the ogre out of the picture as we're going to get.”

“We could light the house on fire,” Orzza suggests eagerly.

“There might still be a farmer around that owns this place,” Shar objects.

“Bah,” says Kane. “I'll show you how we do this.” He draws his sword and marches up to the door of the house.

“That's one approach,” admits Karl, “although perhaps not the one I would have elected.”

Kane tries to open the door, but it's locked, so he pounds his fist on it instead. “Hey!” he calls. “Come out here!” The door doesn't open at his call, so with a snarl, he throws his shoulder into it, smashing it open.

A surpised-lookikng Double Javelin stands just about two feet from him, frozen in mid-reach for the door. Before he can move, magic missiles shoot into him from Karl, and Shifty hurls a dagger into him, as well.

The ogre roars and shoulders past the wounded man, pushing Kane back as it barrels through the door. But that only opens it to the rest of the party, and it gives a squeal of pain as Sepia's whip cracks across its face.

Tough and strong as it is, the ogre can't withstand the focused attacks of the whole party. It swings its club in a great arc, clipping Bradford across the shoulder, and delivers a pair of terrific blows to Kane and Orzza; but between the steady increase in the number of arrows sticking in its body, the deadly precision of Sepia and Shifty, and the enraged strength of Kane, the ogre is soon defeated. Meanwhile, Karl and Shar have used their spells and prayers to finish the three Double Javelins in the house.

“Quick and deadly,” Alkor says, plucking arrows from the corpse and discarding those no longer suitable for use.

***

The party finds the corpses of the farming family and buries them, Shar performing the appropriate rituals. “I guess we could have burned the place after all,” says Orzza.

Shar still demurs. “The town can use these fields, harvest those fields, put someone else in the house... We didn't need to burn it down.”

“Still!” he says.

***

Back to Overland. The party knows that they need to be ready to defend it alongside their soldiers. Otherwise, the untrained, unblooded, inexperienced defenders that they're trying to form into a militia will simply break and run at the first sniff of misfortune. So they turn around and march back downstream.

They are both surprised and gratified to find that, upon their return, they are intercepted by their own soldiers. On the other hand, the news isn't good.

“There's a group of Double Javelins not far from town,” Corporal Coral reports. “A large group. I think their main force. They just arrived yesterday.” She pauses, then admits, “I'm really glad you made it back when you did.”

“So much for Woodcut first,” grumbles Sepia.

“Maybe they figured out we were on to them,” Karl says.

Shiftly rubs at his chin. “Whatever the case, we need to figure out what to do about them.”

“We're not ready to take them on, my lord. Especially not when they outnumber us.”

“You may have to.”

“Husband,” Shar says, “I think you may need to make a speech.”

***

While Shifty shores up the morale of the troops, Kane and Shar discuss the situation. As the two members of the group most familiar with the Double Javelins, it falls on them to tailor a strategy to oppose them. For several hours they turn various options over. If there were more time, they could build defenses- dig a ditch, force the javelins to fight their way up a berm, construct a wall around the town, something. If there were time, but there isn't. If they had more troops, they could try a frontal assault while the party itself struck for Thannox. But they don't have more troops.

Still-

“Cut off the head,” says Shar, “and the whole problem goes away.”

“Thannox.” Kane cracks a knuckle, then another and another.

“Thannox,” Shar agrees. “If we can kill him-”

“The whole problem goes away,” Kane nods.

“So how do we get him away from the rest of them?”

A sly grin begins to spread across Kane's face.

***

Just outside of Overland, the Double Javelins strut like cocks crowing at the morning, laughing, drinking, eating, showing no fear. They sometimes form up as if for battle, march a few hundred yards, then break apart laughing and singing, all under the watchful eyes of the scouts who are keeping track of them. They seem to be mocking the town, as if they were saying, You belong to us as soon as we want to take you, and there's nothing you can do about it. Just wait. At out leisure, we're going to take you.

Already, the javelins have impacted the amount of game available for the town. Already, they have stolen fruit from the town's trees, vegetables from the fields, grain from the mill. They are already acting like they own the place, their hunting parties roaming at will, their foragers dancing just out of reach of the town's meager defense force. Always a little closer, though- every day, infringing a little deeper toward the town's core.

“And that's the key,” Kane says with a feral grin. “I know just what to do.”

Next Time: The return of Dolorous Pete!

 

[the Jester]

Day by day, the Double Javelins grow bolder. They venture further afield in search of game or forage, and are less and less restrained when raiding outlying farms and fields. Thannox himself leads a hunting party most evenings, bold and fearless, skewering deer or hare or boar with his javelins. Others steal sheep, goats, or chickens from the locals.

But one thing that the Double Javelins can't find in large quantities this way- and one which Kane correctly surmises that the free company will need in order to keep itself together- is alcohol. It's something that requires at least one of the javelins to come in and spend coin in order to maintain a reliable supply.

So, when Dolorous Pete enters the tavern, discrete as he is, both Shar and Kane recognize him. They know him as a Double Javelin from their own days as members of the mercenary group, and they know that he doesn't live in Overland. No, it's apparent to them that Dolorous Pete is here to pick up the booze.

They let him reach the bar before they emerge from their corner, casting their cloaks aside to reveal themselves. “Hello, Pete,” Kane growls, and the man turns to face them, surprise twisting his features for a moment. The rest of the party stands behind the two former javelins.

“Well, well,” he says. “Kane. Shar. It's been a while. What have you been up to?”

“You know,” Shar snaps. “You know exactly what we've been up to. We've been taking charge around here.” Shifty, not wanting his authority to be overlooked, quickly steps up beside her.

Pete's eyes flick from the two co-governors to Kane. “You're working for them, now, huh?”

“I don't work for anyone. I'm working with them.”

Eyes still on Kane, Dolorous Pete says, “Well, it looks like you've got me. What are you going to do with me?”

A smile touches Kane's face, but not his eyes. But it's Shar who speaks. “That's up to you.”

Shifty spreads his hands. “Let us make you an offer you can't refuse.”

***

The party is very persuasive, especially when Karl adds a magical “curse” to ensure compliance. This, of course, is nothing more than bluster and a magical light show to cow Dolorous Pete; but the Double Javelin has little enough experience with the arcane that he believes the lie unreservedly.

“It will be best if you can hand pick the other members of the hunting party,” Karl says, “to help minimize bloodshed. Choose people who will be reasonable.”

Dolorous Pete looks from one of them to another. He licks his lips nervously.

“Do well, and we will let you live.” Kane glares at him.

“And even reward you!” adds Shifty.

“What will you do with the rest of the javelins?”

Shar says, “They will have to be integrated into our forces.”

“I will lead them.” Kane's eyes remain fixed on Dolorous Pete. “If you wish to stay with the Double Javelins, you'd best consider who is going to be in charge of them.”

Shifty beams. “Just think! This may be your chance to rise in rank!”

Dolorous Pete shifts from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “And if I refuse?”

Kane shows his teeth.

“You know the answer to that,” states Alkor, thumbing the tip of an arrow.

“I suppose I do.”

“Don't try any treachery,” warns Shar. “You won't like what happens.”

“Remember the curse.” Karlinden's eyes bulge and he shakes a long finger at the mercenary.

“And remember, I'll be right beside you, just out of view, the whole time.” Dolorous Pete starts, for suddenly Sepia is right behind him. “I will kill you if you betray us.” Then she slips back into the shadows.

“All right, all right, point taken.” Pete spreads his hands. “I can do what you want.”

“Tonight,” orders Kane.

***

The hunting part leaves the main camp of the Double Javelins about an hour before dark. They are well-equipped with wine from Dolorous Pete's trip into town. Thannox rides at the head of a rough V, leading his followers- including Pete- into the nearby woods. Pete is just to his left, and he takes a large drink of wine and then points. “It was that way. I swear to the gods, Thannox, it was the biggest boar I've seen all year. I wasn't in any mood to try to take it down before I got the wine back, but I damn well do now!”

“Lead on,” Thannox says eagerly, fondling the shaft of one of his javelins.

Dolorous Pete does, taking the group deeper into the woods until they reach the clearing that Kane had specified. There, our heroes emerge from the thickets on all sides and descend upon Thannox while the others hang back at Pete's command.

Thannox is no slouch with a javelin. He fights hard, hurling shafts with uncanny speed and precision; but our heroes outnumber him, and he has been betrayed. While Dolorous Pete and his other men watch, Kane strikes Thannox down.

I guess I chose the right side, Pete thinks.

Next Time: Back to the Earthquake Rift!

 

[the Jester]

When Dolorous Pete and the party arrive at the Double Javelins' main encampment, Kane announces their arrival by hurling Thannox' decapitated head into the midst of the guards at the gate.

“The gig is up, gentlemen,” announces Karlinden.

“Everybody listen up!” roars Kane. “Thannox is dead, and you're now under my command!”

“Best listen, everyone,” Dolorous Pete says.

There are a few tense moments, and Kane knocks one man down with a mailed fist, but no real violence is required to secure the new order. The Double Javelins, after all, will be happy enough to get paid to be the local military. And if our heroes never have to call upon them, even better- better for everyone. Because while the Double Javelins are sitting around guarding the local area, they aren't a threat.

***

Upon the party's return to Overland, Kane nails the head of Thannox over the town's main gate.

“Let there be no doubt that your governors will defend you,” Shifty cries to the growing crowd. “The Double Javelin threat is over.”

***

Our heroes spend a few days resting and celebrating. Over a mug of ale, Shifty says, “We should get back to the earthquake rift. We need to collect our taxes from the goblins.”

“And maybe go back to those dwarves,” Sepia adds. “Whaddaya call 'em? Duergar.”

“Aye!” Kane snarls into his beer. “Blood and treasure!” And he belches.

***

A few days later, they return to the earthquake rift, and find themselves in the middle of an internecine clash taking place between different factions of goblins. Our heroes settle the matter with some violence before descending past the once-flooded canal and returning to the duergar works.

This time, the duergar they encounter don't include Tincup, and they find themselves fighting hard against doughty grey dwarven warriors with strange powers. Some enlarge themselves to nearly ogre size; others vanish into invisibility.

Swiftly, our heroes take countermeasures. Shifty takes advantage of his gnomish stature to slip between the legs of the duergar that grow; Sepia hurls bags of flour at those who turn invisible. Karl casts wizard's fury and hails magical darts at them all. Alkor fires arrows nearly as fast, and Bradford and Kane take the front line.

They retreat to the goblin levels above to rest. Due to their earlier intervention in the local politics, they are welcomes (perhaps a bit reluctantly) and given the best places to sleep.

Several more expeditions take them deeper into the duergar areas and further into conflict with the gray dwarves. They even encounter a few undead duergar, who the party collectively find to be extremely creepy. Then, they find a captive- a tiefling named Maltos.

“What are you doing here?” asks Shar.

“I was exploring this rift,” the fellow replies. “I found it after the earthquake, and wanted to see if I could find any treasure inside.”

“How'd you do?”

“Not so well,” he admits.

“Well,” she says, indiicating herself and Shifty, “my husband and I are the governors of the local lands. We're down here making sure that there's nothing that is a real threat to the world above. Have you seen anything down here that we should be aware of?”

“There are a few goblins up above, but that's about all I saw. I got hit from behind and fell into some water, then something knocked me out. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the clutches of these dwarves.”

“We should let him go,” Sepia says. “He's a tiefling, like me! How bad can he be?”

The party guides him back to the goblins, by which point Maltos can see the sunlight filtering down from above and the series of ropes descending into the rift. “My thanks,” he says. “If we meet again, I won't forget that you helped me when I was in need.”

“Be well,” Sepia answers, and the former captive clasps the rope with both hands and begins to climb.

***

After getting another night's rest in the goblins' territory, Shar and Shifty confer, then turn to the others. “We should probably go back and make sure things are okay at home before we spend much more time down here,” she says. “After all, we don't know how well the Double Javelins' loyalty will hold.”

“And even if it does, who knows how good their discipline will be?” Orzza nods. “Even if they're loyal, they might beat up farmers or something, just because they're...” He glances at Kane. “No offense, but they're kind of rough characters.”

Kane shows a toothy grin.

“Also,” Shard continues, “we need to check on the progress Captain Lentor has made whipping our people into shape.”

Everyone agrees, and the party heads back toward Grumbleford. They stop at the Governor's Tower on the way and find a note from Bishop Ulric. It reads: Governors- I understand you've had some political trouble. If you need help, send us a message. Your tax assessments will be forthcoming.

***

They spend a couple of days in Grumbleford, because Karl ends up with a date. It doesn't go well, so he is as happy as anyone to head back to Overland. There, they pay their soldiers with treasure found in the rift. They confer with Captain Lentor, who tells them that he needs another two months to whip the troops into any kind of real shape.

“Well, the Double Javelins aren't a threat anymore,” Karl tells him. The party explains the last few weeks' frenzy of activity to him.

But Lentor disagrees. “They don't look like a threat right now, but who's to say that they won't turn on you again? I think you'll be well-served to have an alternative force- one that can stand against them if need be.”

Kane shrugs. “He's right. They'll stay in line as long as they see our faces regular enough. But if they have a little time to forget who's in charge, or if too much time passes without them seeing pay...”

“We could consider disbanding them,” Bradford says, but Shar shakes her head.

“Then what? They'll all be running loose, unemployed, and as soon as they get hungry, they'll be up to their old tricks. No, we're better off keeping them under our command, so that we at least know what they're up to.”

“Now what?” asks Karlinden, still moody from his failed romantic encounter. “Back to the rift?”

“Are the duergar even a threat to us?” Alkar muses. “They don't seem to be really doing anything much down there.”

“We do need treasure, if for nothing else, then to pay our troops,” Shar points out.

“Also, remember, they took a prisoner who was one of our citizens.” Shifty pats his comb-over. “I'd say that makes them a threat, at least to some degree.”

“He's right,” Shar says. “We can't have anyone kidnapping our citizens.”

Orzza stands up and pulls on his backpack. “Then let's go.”

Next Time: Back into the duergar works we go!

 

[the Jester]

“It appears,” Karlinden remarks, “that our presence has destabilized the duergar, as well as the goblins.”

Shifty smirks and pats his comb-over back into place. “Well, we restabilized the goblins. We can do it to these dwarves, as well!”

Back up a step. Our heroes have returned, once more, to the dim depths of the earthquake rift. Once more they have cheerfully paid the wererats and their purple dragon ally the demanded “entrance fee” into the lower levels, and once more, they found a small group of duergar guards- this time with a pair of hell hounds- awaiting them. And once more, our heroes put the enemy to the sword- although this time, they took a prisoner.

Just moments ago, Alkar demanded, “Where's Tincup? I thought we had an arrangement with you guys!”

And the captured duergar sneered. “You may have had an arrnagement with Tincup, but not with us.”

Neither Kane's nor Orzza's interrogation techniques are gentle. The captive soon gives them a rough sketch of the situation with the duergar. According to him, tensions have been rising for decades between the followers of the traditional duergar pantheon, led by Ladaguer, and those grey dwarves who have begun to follow a more diabolical path- the worship of the Arch-Devils.

Tincup was one of the traditionalists. And it seems as though the first incursion by our heroes kicked off a new stage of the conflict. Previously, there had been a few instances of violence or assassination. Now, the tension has snapped into open warfare between the factions.

“Who's the leader of the devil-worshipers?” Kane demands, hot breath right in the face of their battered captive.

“We call him Darkchain,” the duergar responds, spitting out a mouthful of blood and half a tooth with a grimace. “He uses spiked chains in battle.”

“I guess we know who we're after, then,” Sepia says brightly.

The group steps away from the duergar to discuss his fate. Kane advocates for a quick death, but Orzza points out, “If we let him go, he's going to spread the word that we're coming. That will make the devil-duergar nervous, and it might prod Tincup's faction into taking some kind of action that helps us.”

Shifty nods. “Or at least they might be ready to join in the fight when we arrive. I like it.”

Kane scowls. “And we might have to defeat him all over again. We'll save time if we slit his throat now.”

“Will we?” Shar puts her hands on her hips and raises her voice enough for the duergar to hear her. “We beat him once. If he tries to fight us again, we'll kill him. And then we can hunt down his family. No, I think he'll stay out of our way.” She glances at the prisoner. “Isn't that right?”

Sullenly, the fellow nods. “Aye, I'll give my word not to interfere with you again if you let me go.”

“And everyone knows that devils, and their worshipers, are creatures of their word.” Sepia smiles at the grey dwarf.

“Aye, and dwarves,” the captive says.

Shar nods. “All right. In that case, we're going to let you go- once you tell us where to find this Darkchain.”

***

Unfortunately, while the dwarf doesn't outright lie to them in giving directions, he does commit some omissions.

He fails to mention the aquatic, slime-draped gargoyles on the way, and the haunted spirits that flit about their chamber. Nor does he mention the pair of spined devils guarding the antechamber before Darkchain's throne room. Both encounters are unexpected, and drain some of the group's resources, but neither taxes them to the point of turning back or forcing a rest longer than a few minutes.

But when our heroes breach Darkchain's throne room, they find themselves facing a formidable group of duergar. Over half a dozen warriors are in attendance, either guarding or fawning over Darkchain.

Darkchain himself is unusually tall for a duergar (at least, one that hasn't yet enlarged himself). He wears armor enameled in black and crimson, with epaulets curled to resemble flames dancing upward. He constantly fingers and fondles his spiked chain, which is also blackened. Next to him stands a berobed, bespectacled, wizened duergar with bright yellow eyes and beard dyed scarlet. The wizened fellow is festooned with pouches, and a pair of belts cross over his chest like bandoliers, but in place of daggers, they have small loops holding phials containing a variety of suspicious-looking vapors and fluids.

The enemy engages the party quickly, with some of the duergar growing to well over 8' in height to do so. One of these hurls a harpoon at Alkar, sinking it into his arm and forcing him to discard his bow in favor of his sword. Meanwhile the robed duergar begins hurling phials, unleashing clouds of foul, toxic smoke, creating explosions of flame, and attempting to incapacitate our heroes with vile poisons.

Darkchain himself is a nightmare.

Black energy erupts along the length of his chain as he grows to ogre size and begins to lash out. He smashes Kane so hard that the barbarian is almost dropped immediately. He whips the end of the chain around Shifty and yanks him from his feet. He hurls exploding, poisonous quills from his beard.

Our heroes find themselves hard-pressed.

Sepia cracks her whip back at Darkchain, relieving the pressure on Shifty long enough for the little gnome to roll away and regain his feet, then hurl a few darts at the duergar. But they deflect off his thick armor. Karlinden, hanging back, unleashes his wizard's fury and begins casting magic missile after magic missile, trying to thin the enemy numbers.

Orzza rushes in, hoping to engage Darkchain directly, but is intercepted by several of the guards, who provide cover to their leader and press the paladin back. But this creates a gap. Shar speaks a healing word to restore Kane to the fight, and the barbarian roars and enters a rage, ducks his head, and charges straight for the enemy commander.

The duergar alchemist tries to stop him by throwing another exploding phial at him, but Kane just barrels through the flames and smashes into Darkchain.

Then Shar casts iron to glass on Darkchain, and his weapon grows weak and frail. His blows are suddenly far less effective than they should be. Kane grins, frothing at the mouth as he unleashes howling strike after howling strike at his foe.

Meanwhile, Sepia and Shifty, also kept at bay by the guards, turn to double-team the one with the harpoon. Alkar has already fallen to his knees, barely standing, as the duergar jerks on the lead rope, pulling him this way and that. But suddenly that changes as Shifty's dagger severs the rope, then plunges into the duergar's knee. The dwarf screams in pain, and Sepia cracks her whip, letting it wrap around his neck before giving it a mighty yank. The duergar staggers away, and Alkar stabs him. He falls.

But before the ranger can regain his feet, one of the other grey dwarves- this one invisible- clocks him from behind with a massive hammer, and Alkar sprawls senseless to the ground.

Karl has turned his attention to the duergar alchemist, and is spraying volley after volley of furious missiles at him. Now, the hammer-wielding duergar interrupts him, rushing at him with a roar. The wizard yelps, finding himself cornered. A few more rough blows, and Karl, too, falls.

Orzza leaps to his aid, scaled arms bulging as he swings his blade to parry the deathblow, saving Karl's life. He belches forth a blast of acid, forcing the deurgar back. His dragonborn heritage serves him well.

The battle teeters on the edge. Sepia falls victim to the alchemist's infernal devices just before Shifty thrusts his blade into the dwarf's kidneys, taking him down in turn. Several more of the guards have fallen, but so does Shar. Darkchain himself is wounded badly, but so is Kane. The howling berserker hacks wildly at the armored duergar leader, who parries twice, then turns to flee.

Kane tries to pursue, but one of the remaining guards intercepts him, cracking him across the chest with a battle axe. Gibbering wordlessly, Kane hews him down, but by then, Darkchain has slipped out an exit. Kane throws himself against the door, only to find it locked and too heavy to smash down. Roaring, he tries again and again, but stops, panting, rage fading, as he realizes that the foe are all down.

“We almost had him,” Shifty groans, pressing a hand to one of his many wounds. “Damn it! So close!”

The party spends a few minutes gathering themselves, healing the wounded- especially the unconscious- and recovering their breath. A short discussion reveals that they are too taxed to pursue Darkchain immediately.

“Well,” says Shar, “we can try to rest in here, rather than retreating. There's that elevator we took to get onto this level. It was defensible, and we haven't seen any other way up from here. We'll be cutting off one avenue of retreat for them.”

“Aye!” Kane barks. “And then we can finish Darkchain off tomorrow!”

“If we can find him.” Shifty shakes his head. “They might be able to retreat further downward. We don't know how many levels this place has.”

Alkar shrugs. “Let them. If they run, our old buddy Tincup will be in a better position to take this level back.”

Thus decided, our heroes retreat to the aforementioned elevator chamber. It's easy enough to secure it- the door has a lock- and they unroll their bedding and settle in to rest, setting up watches.

“You know,” Orzza says as he removes his boots, “they say I was born from a special egg.”

“Really?” asks Sepia, looking the dragonborn over.

“Yeah, there's a prophecy that my life has special meaning. That I have a special destiny to fulfill.”

“Like what? Are you supposed to save the world or something?”

Orzza shrugs. “I don't know. Nobody does. But that's why I was raised to be a paladin. I was always taught to uphold the highest standards. I have to, if I'm going to be worthy of my fate.”

“The highest standards?” Alkar snorts. “Like how you tortured that dwarf?”

“He gave us no choice,” Orzza objects.

“You and Kane were beating his face in before you even started questioning him.” The elf shakes his head. “You should be better than that, if you really do want to stand for something.” And he rolls over, turning away from Orzza, to seek the restfulness of trance.

Huh, thinks the paladin. Maybe Alkar's right. Maybe I could do better. Sure, I'm trying to help the people, but maybe these... these hard people I've fallen in with are a bad influence on me. Maybe my worthiness isn't a foregone conclusion. Maybe the prophecy is relying on me to be... to be better. Special egg or not, I have a lot to think about.

Haunted by disquieting thoughts, the dragonborn drifts off.

***

“Hey! Wake up!”

Orzza starts and opens his eyes. Alkar is leaning over him, shaking him. He has a finger to his lips.

“What's going on?” whispers Orzza.

“Listen.”

The dragonborn cocks his head.

There's a quiet scratching at the lock.

“Someone is trying to get in,” hisses Alkar. He moves to prod the others awake, as silently as he can manage.

Sepia slips up to the doorway and pulls out a lockpick. She inserts it into the lock. “I think I can keep them from getting the lock open,” she whispers, fiddling with the pick. The next few moments are a tense contest of tiny probes, dancing around each other within the confines of the locks. Sepia manages to rake the tumblers such that those that her opponent has managed to get open slip closed again, and after a few minutes, whoever is on the other side withdraws his or her tools.

Still, it's enough to make the group nervous. “Let's take the elevator up a level,” suggests Shifty, stifling a yawn. “After all, unless there's another way up, they won't be able to come after us. We'll be more secure, and they still won't be able to get the drop on us.”

“Sounds good to me.” Alkar nods.

***

The rest of their night's rest is undisturbed, if not exactly comfortable. After they wake, break their fasts, and re-gird themselves for combat, the party descends again. But this time, when they open the elevator doors, they are beset immediately.

Darkchain is waiting for them.

This time he has only a pair of guards with him. The party has no way of knowing it, but yesterday's battle turned the tide of the conflict within the duergar ranks. Darkchain's followers have almost entirely abandoned him, and his devilish patrons are displeased at his failure. They, too, have turned away.

Darkchain's only hope is to redeem himself through the art of revenge.

But the party is at full strength, and Darkchain and his lackeys are not enough. This time, the battle is short and, until the final moment, one-sided. The guards fall rapidly, and Darkchain himself is pressed hard by the group. He is faltering when he gets his revenge.

His chain whips out, the end curling around Alkar's right elbow. Darkchain gives a tremendous yank.

And Alkar's arm comes off at the elbow.

Blood sprays everywhere. The elf's screams echo through the stone chamber.

While Kane runs the duergar leader through, Shar desperately seeks to staunch the bleeding. She calls upon the holy power of the Sword Cult and heals Alkar as best she can. But the elf was primarily an archer.

Now...

“Now it's time to retreat,” states Karl.

Next Time: Our heroes seek a way to help their archer pal! Meanwhile, a mystery begins at the Tower of Deryndradin, Karl's master!

 

[the Jester]

“I won't be able to fire my bow,” says Alkor. He groans, rubbing the stump of his right arm.

“There must be something we can do. Some magic we can employ.” Sepia looks at Karl hopefully.

“There is a ritual,” the wizard replies. “Regenerate. We don't have it, but Spender- the ritualist in Grumbleford- might.”

“All right,” Shar declares, “that's our next move. Let's get out of the rift and get to Grumbleford.”

“I might have a little trouble climbing the rope,” Alkor says glumly.

***

When it's time for the ranger to ascend, Sepia and Kane rig a harness at the end of the rope and drop it down. Alkor clambers into it, aided by Karl and Shifty, who are still below with him. Then orzza and Kane haul him up.

After that, it's back to the governor's tower. This time, they find three of their soldiers awaiting them.

“What's up?” Shifty asks. “You guys are obviously here for some reason.”

“Yes, sir. The tower of Deryndradin- it has been attacked, sir.”

“The what, now?”

“My master's tower,” Karl exclaims. “What happened? Attacked by whom?”

“We don't really know,” the guard replies. “But something happened. Some kind of, I don't know, a magic field formed around the tower. And the front door has been bashed in.”

Shar glances at Karl. “Do you know anything about that field?”

“I know the tower has magical defenses against intrusion, but I've never seen them in action. It could very well be. When did this happen?”

“A couple of days ago.”

“So either whoever did this is gone, or they're trapped inside.” Karl rests his chin in his hand thoughtfully.

“Does your master have any enemies?” asks Shifty. “Or do you?”

“Not that I know of.”

Alkor asks, “Isn't your tower in Overland?”

“Yes.”

“So does that mean that we put off going to Grumbleford?”

“Maybe we should,” Karl says. “After all, who knows what could be happening with the tower?”

“As you pointed out yourself, it's already been several days,” Orzza says. “I think restoring our archer's arm is important enough to delay another couple. Whoever did this is probably long gone.”

The party agrees. To Grumbleford.

***

After a night at the Governor's Inn, they go to see Spender, and after some hard bargaining, trade 300 gold pieces and Orzza's magical glasses, which allow the user to read any language for a scroll of regenerate.

Soon enough, Alkor is marveling at his new arm. “I am whole again!” he cries.

“But look,” Sepia says with a giggle. “It's pale. You're tan, except for your new arm.”

The group takes two days in the town, during which Karl learns the rituals brew potion and identify. Then they start the trip back to Overland, making camp at the crossroads as they often do.

But that midnight, as most of them are asleep and only Karl is awake on watch, they find themselves assailed.

Out of nowhere, a group of wights erupts from the night.

Karl shouts a warning and casts a flame burst, catching the wights, who stagger as they close the distance. The rest of our heroes scramble to rise, but the wights fall upon them before they can fully bestir themselves.

From behind the wights, another flame slithers into view, this one clinging to a crimson snake like a halo. And following that, come two people that look human- at least, at a glance.

Alkar springs up and scrambles back away from the wights, new hand shooting out to grab up his bow. The string thrums under his hand and arrows whistle as they fly into the foe. Ah, that feels good. He can't help but grin.

Radiance blazes as Orzza lays about himself, smiting one wight after another. Sepia leaps past him, whip cracking as she attacks the flame snake. Shifty throws a handful of darts and retreats to the opposite side of their campfire.

Suddenly a wight topples as a tremendous howl announces that Kane is in the fight. A desiccated arm spins through the air as the barbarian strides to the next foe.

“That one's for me, right?” Alkor chortles, sending more arrows into the foe.

One of the two humans draws his cloak around himself, and suddenly vanishes in a puff of smoke, only to reappear next to Kane. He strikes, his blade coated with poison.

Kane responds with a devastating strike and enters a rage.

Shifty and Sepia flank the flame snake and cut it to pieces in mere moments. But the other human meets Alkor's eyes, and the elf finds his world spinning. He tries to look away, but he can't- there is something wrong with those eyes.

Those eyes....

They're the eyes of serpents.

And then the spell breaks as Orzza smashes the weird-eyed man's head in.

Alkor looks around, feeling as though he is emerging from a fog. The enemy is down. Shar is healing Kane and Karl, who took the lion's share of the damage. All seems well. And yet....

He walks over to the man's corpse and wipes blood from the eyes.

Opens the body's mouth and examines his tongue.

Turns to his friends, and says, “This guy has the tongue and eyes of a snake. What about the other one.”

Shifty peers close. “Yep... What the hell were they?”

“And were they connected with whatever happened at my master's tower?” Karl wonders.

***

They are not disturbed any further that night, except by their own thoughts. Even in the depths of his trance, Alkor can't stop seeing those serpentine eyes. Shifty has a terrifying nightmare of Gnomehome, the hidden community from which he came, and the oozes and slimes that overcame it in a single terrible night.

Orzza can't help but feel that his destiny is drawing near. Since connecting with the rest of the party, he has sensed that they are doing important things- things that may ultimately change the world.

***

Just after noon the next day, they reach Overland. They take pride in seeing that it is now surrounded by a low berm, and a pallisade is under construction. The town's central square is en route to Deryndradin's Tower; when they reach it, they are shocked to see a gallows with three bodies swinging from nooses, signs labeling them deserters around their necks.

“Uh-oh,” mutters Shifty.

Kane stares, mouth set in a grim line. “Those were Double Javelins.”

“Over there.” Shifty points toward the Silver Fish, where the party can see a crowd has gathered.

The group approaches. There, a red-faced Sheriff Dugan is waving his hands and talking to one of the Double Javelin soldiers. Their conversation halts as the party approaches. The mood of the crowd is ugly; rumbling curses and angry looks are everywhere.

“What's going on?” demands Shar.

“Your Honors! Thank the gods you're back!” Dugan disengages from the other man and hurries over to them. “We should talk.”

“Apparently so,” Shar says. They step outside, but about a score of people follow them.

“They beat up my boy!”

“They hanged mine! That's my son up there!”

“Put it right, Governor!”

“Ain't right!”

Shifty turns and raises his hands. “Friends, friends,” he cries, “we don't know exactly what has happened here, but I assure you, we will, well, we'll see that justice is done! But first, you have to give us some time to look into things and figure out what's what. Please, give us that time!”

Meanwhile, Dugan tells Shar, “Those Double Javelins are a rowdy bunch. They've stirred up quite a bit of trouble.”

“Enough to hang three of them?” demands Kane.

Dugan's face reddens once more. “As to that, well, you'd need to talk to Lentor.” He shakes his head. “They have beat several people up, and maybe burned up a bunch of grain and stolen some kocho. But there's more. There was an attack on the wizard's tower. Now it's all a-glow, and one of the Brender kids touched it and got hurt real bad.” He glances at Karl. “The tower is probably more your area than mine. I couldn't figure out...”

“We'll look into it,” Karl promises.

“Who attacked it?” asks Shifty, rejoining them now that he has at least temporarily mollified the crowd.

“Well, we don't know exactly. Different folks saw different stuff. Some say the dead were walking, others that there were giants. Seems like some kind of dark sorcery clouded people's eyes or something.”

***

There's a lot going on, all right. A lot for our heroes to check out and look into. And they do so.

Kane demands Lentor explain the hangings.

“I was running patrols. Three days ago, one of them patrols was ambushed by a group of Double Javelin skirmishers and they were pretty well decimated. Two men died; the others were lucky to escape with their lives. Immediately, I took a group of my best troops to punish them. We found them quickly, and the engagement that ensued left several of them wounded and one dead, with my people suffering only a few superficial wounds. Since we had the advantage, I elected to pursue the enemy.”

He shakes his head. “I shouldn't have. We found... something unlike anything I've ever seen. A dog-man of some kind, strapped into a huge suit of metal armor with weird purple crystals set into it. A single blow from its claw tore a man in half. And there were more Double Javelins with it.” He passes a hand before his eyes. “I knew we were in trouble. Things went south fast. I rallied the troops, and we managed to scoop up several badly wounded men and make a quick travois, and then we retreated.”

He takes a deep breath and continues. “After about an hour, we thought we were clear. But then they came out of nowhere. This time the dog-man wasn't with them, but there were plenty of Javelins.” He winces at the memory.

“That's when those men deserted. Each of them was helping to carry men too wounded to walk, but they broke and ran. Not only that, if they hadn't, we could have won that fight. As it was, two more men died and we had to run off with our tails between our legs. We found the three of 'em later- they'd ditched their uniforms and we even overheard them talking about how better all the rest of us died than they did. So I made an example of them.”

After a moment of silence, Shar says, “Good job.”

***

“Clearly, there are more renegade Double Javelins still out there.” Shar glances at Kane. “We're going to have to go after them.”

“Agreed. We can't let them stand against us. It will just encourage the others to desert and join them.”

The group approaches the farm where Dalma, the kocho farmer, must be compensated for his lost stock. But when they go to talk to him, it turns out that it may not have been the Double Javelins who stole the kochos after all.

“Look at these footprints.” Alkor gestures at the ground. “These weren't feet like ours. These were skeletal.” He looks at Dalma. “Your kocho got rustled by undead.”

Whoever attacked the tower, Karl thinks. But was this on their way in, or on their way out?

“I think I'm gonna have to raise my prices,” Dalma complains. “But not for you.”

***

It takes a full day of study and work to break into the tower. When they finally do breach the field surrounding it, Karl is shocked to find that the whole place has been rudely searched. Scrolls and tomes are scattered carelessly on the floor, alchemical apparati are upset or broken, dressers and closets have had their contents strewn about.

“Before you get all heartbroken,” says Orzza, “we'd better make sure that whoever did this isn't still here.”

Nobody is there but them. Whoever the intruder was, he or she is gone.

“It's obvious that they were searching for something,” Sepia muses. “But what?”

“Any ideas?” Shifty asks Karl.

He shakes his head. “It could have been anything. A spell, a book... it's hard to tell with things like this.”

So the group does an investigation of their own, cleaning up the mess and looking for signs of the intruder's intent or identity. It's an arduous, exacting task, especially since they don't know exactly what they are looking for, or even where within the tower to look.

And with every hour, the trail- what trail there might be- grows colder.

***

The clue is a bloody thumbprint, significantly larger than a normal human's.

“That's it,” Karl exclaims. “That book didn't have anything like that in it before.”

“What book is it?” asks Orzza.

“Reflections on the Eternal, by Witterfine. It's almost 1500 years old.”

“What's the section with the thumbprint about?” demands Shifty.

Karl begins to read aloud: “Permanent disposal of artifacts and relics is very difficult. Usually each has but a single method of destruction that will permanently undo its existence, and the method is always obscure and difficult. This is the answer to the ignorant question: Why are so many artifacts of evil and destructive nature hidden in vaults, secured by wards or otherwise locked away when they will inevitably surface again? The answer is plain: destruction is not always an option.

“It is possible to take steps to ensure that an artifact or relic remains hidden, but since they often have their own sentience, it is very difficult- some say impossible- to work out a permanent solution. Guardians age and die or can be destroyed; traps can be disarmed or wear down over centuries or millennia of time; spells fade or are triggered. Even burying an artifact is no guarantee of long-term prevention of its recovery and/or misuse.

“Some extremely creative methods have been devised over the aeons to secret artifacts and relics away, from the merely dangerous (the Mace of Saint John is said to have been fed to the Chromatic Dragon) to the outrageous and expensive (the Delphinate was said to have hired itself out for an incredible annual sum to contain a pair of dangerous Miloxi artifacts, the Electron Harness and the Radiation Claw). Others have been contained at the center of a large sequence of epic warding magic (the Staff of Sekolah), while still more are simply wielded (Cluma and the Rod of Seven Parts, the Deleter, etc).

“A few artifacts and relics can be rendered powerless or destroyed if the Power involved in its forging (if any) can be slain. Deep in the Astral Sea, the floating petrified corpses of dead gods sometimes rest next to the shattered remains of the tools they once invested. However, this is a very dangerous proposition in and of itself, and it is equally likely that destroying the artifact or relic is a necessary precursor to the destruction of the Power. Moreover, some artifacts and relics survive the destruction of their related Power and serve to transform a later wielder, restoring the Power to life and puissance.

“Perhaps the most creative and, perhaps, effective method ever used to conceal an artifact or relic was the River Lethe. Using a powerful ritual, the ancient eldritch liege Lillamere banished all memory of an artifact, leaving it hidden deep in the Hells. What artifact? Nobody remembers, of course! The beauty of this method is that not only is any memory of the artifact's existence forgotten; even the artifact itself, if it has any lingering sentience, cannot recall its intention to free itself. Indeed, only some comments made by Lillamere himself allow this author to even mention this! One wonders if His Majesty had indeed stumbled upon the perfect method to hide an artifact forever. Alas, without reaching the impossible heights of arcane mastery that he had attained, it is impossible for anyone to replicate his ritual.”

“Huh,” says Shifty. “That's not at all ominous.”

“Well, good news, guys. I have a lead on our thief.” Alkor grins. “Even though nobody can remember much about him, there is one detail that seems to be pretty common in peoples' accounts. He had a wagon. And this morning, I went back to the kocho farmer's place and took a look around.”

“Maybe the trail isn't so cold, after all!” Sepia exclaims.

“We'll see, because I found the wagon's tracks.”

Next Time: Not-so-hot pursuit!

 

[the Jester]

Light rain patters down on the fields as our heroes move, Alkor in the lead, tracking the ruts left by their foe's wagon. It has been a few days since it passed; in this fertile land, with this weather, the grasses are already springing up and starting to obscure the trail.

Alkor's skills are great enough to meet the challenge.

The group follows the wagon trail first to the east. Once it is out of town, it turns to the south, passing west of the ruins of Thrushton. The ground is uneven and irregular; Alkor says, “We have to be moving faster than him. We've got to be closing the distance. There's no way that a wagon can move too quickly across this terrain. It would throw a wheel or break a spoke if he tried.”

So it seems inevitable that our heroes will catch up with their adversary- whoever it is. But alas, the trail is not unguarded.

The group moves under the canopy of a group of trees, and that is when the figures shamble out from behind cover and attack. Until they do, the reek of death is covered by the scent of petrichor, the sweet smell of the summer flowers blooming.

Shifty reacts first, hurling his dagger at an advancing undead warrior. “Watch out!” he cries, springing sideways away from the oncoming figures.

The others start to draw weapons, to prepare themselves to meet the enemy, but then, with a skittering, clattering sound, something else bursts free from the underbrush. It moves like a centipede, but instead of flesh covered in chitin, it is all bone- a mix of ribs, thigh bones, skulls, vertebrae, everything. It moves sinuously, rushing forward on grotesque, mis-matched legs.

Before anyone else can move, it is among the party, ripping its way through, scoring terrific wounds on our heroes. With incredible swiftness, it slashes and scrabbles at them, winding its way through the group and back out again. Blood sprays in one direction, two, three.

Kane roars and enters a rage.

The battle is rough. The osteopede is deadly and tough; the party first tries to focus on it, but it's too fast, and the zombies closing on them prevent them from turning their full attention on it. Things look up for a second when the zombies start to fall, but grow more desperate when those same zombies rise up again after being seemingly defeated, terrifying the heroes.*

The fight keeps growing more and more desperate, as first Orzza and then Alkor and Sepia drop unconscious.

“Oh no!” Shifty cries. “We have to get out of here! They're not worth it!”

But Shar uses healing words to bring them back around, and despite being pressed hard, the party finally overcomes their foes- albeit barely.**

“That,” Karl gasps, “was no coincidence. Remember the bone footprints at the kocho farm? I think we've just found evidence that whoever invaded my master's tower was involved.”

***

The trail leads onward to a lonely farm. It's clear to Alkor that our heroes are catching up; they are making good time.

The farm has a small house, door open wide. Scorch marks scar the threshold. Flies are swarming, and as the party approaches, a fat vulture waddles out of the door and takes to the air.

“That's not a good sign,” says Sepia.

Their quarry is not in the building. All that they find within is a dead, half-eaten dog and blood spattered everywhere. Footprints lead to the barn; when they investigate it, they find a horror show. To one side, a pile of tools has fallen over on itself. To the other, the bodies of the family (husband, wife, son and two daughters) lie strangled. Before them is a dead goat; its head has been spiked to the wall and much of the flesh torn from it. Hay bales fill much of the back of the barn under the loft.

It's another trap.

Once our heroes are deep inside, more undead reveal themselves- some kind of terrifying wraith and two flaming skeletons, as well as a mass of bloated demons and something else.[/ij Something ragged, its form blurring, a white ceramic mask covering its face. Tattered robes trail on the ground.

Things go horribly wrong.

The masked creature blurs, shifting its form. It looks like a human, like a skeleton, like a terrible, beautiful, frightful, awesome mix of- of everyone our heroes have ever known. Their friends. Their families. The party finds their minds warping, twisting. They can't trust their senses.

The burning skeletons hurl flames, and the barn erupts into a conflagration. Suddenly the entire party is being cooked alive. In mere seconds, the whole place is ablaze. Only by smashing their way through a wall do our heroes survive. Only the greatest stroke of luck keeps them from all dying.

But the flames wreak havoc on them and their foes alike. Perhaps it's a miscalculation on the part of whoever it is that they are really pursuing; more likely, their prey does not care about his servants or allies. Whichever it is, the fire grows swiftly as all the hay in the barn catches.

Coughing, burning, bleeding from their foes, the party manages to break free of the barn and slam the doors shut behind them. Kane presses up against them, head swimming from the smoke, wincing from the heat. But he will not let their enemies out.

“Fools!” The voice floats our from within, gloating. “You cannot stop Quah-Nomag! He will destroy you all!”

Even as it dies, the strange, masked figure laughs at them.

***

“What was that thing?” wonders Shar.

“I have no idea,” Karl says glumly. “I've never seen anything like it. And I'm not even sure we saw its true face. It seemed able to control its form.”

“And to read our minds,” Shifty adds. “It turned into people we knew.”

“It was like it could control our senses. It seemed to change the way the barn looked, too.”

“It felt almost like one of those dreams where you know you're dreaming,” Sepia says.

“At least we know the name of the person we're after now.” Karl frowns. “Assuming that it was telling the truth.”

“Quah-Nomag.” Shifty frowns. “Does anyone recognize that name?” Nobody does. “Or even what kind of name it is? Where it's from?”

Again, nobody does.

“I found the wagon's trail,” Alkor calls from the other side of the field.

“This Quah-Nomag has been killing people,” Shar says. “We can't abandon the pursuit until we catch him.”

“Are we sure they're worth it?” Shifty moans.

***

A small arm of the Goldwash runs through the farm. The wagon's trail parallels it, running further south. Finally, at a ruined fort, little more than an old foundation with a few crumbling partial walls, they catch up to it. The bodokod that hauled it are dead, slaughtered; a dead goat is impaled on a stake, set upright beside it.

“Here,” says Alkor. He has found a trap door.

The party clusters around as he pulls it open. From below, they can hear chanting. Someone is down there. Karl holds up a hand, silently telling the others to pause for a moment, and cocks his head, listening. After a moment, he whispers, “He's performing a ritual.”

“Can you tell what?” asks Sepia.

“Yes,” the wizard answers quietly, face going pale. “It's called Abyssal fall. He is trying to shift himself to the very bottom of the Elemental Chaos.”

“Let's go,” says Orzza, and jumps down into the room below.

Next Time: Orzza's special destiny is revealed as our heroes confront Quah-Nomag!

*These were my conversion of coffer corpses.

**Between them, the party spent 21 healing surges in this encounter. This cemented the osteopede (from Open Grave, listed under “deathtritus”, IIRC, as one of my favorite types of undead and ensured that I would convert it for use it future editions. And it also ensured that, when future pcs encounter one, the players will remember it and dread the fight.

 

[the Jester]

Blasphemous words drip from Quah-Nomag's tongue as he chants the words of the ritual, nearing completion. The half-ogre is focused on his task, anathema to all living things. Long has he worked toward his goal, but now, for the first time, he feels as though he has found a clue. The name Lillamere, found at Deryndradin's tower, connects. Tenebrous reacts to it... seems to thrum like the string on an instrument. Quah-Nomag's dark master knows that name.

***

The heroes creep forward. Ahead of them, the underground passage opens up into what appears to be a large wine cellar, crowded with racks. The chanting is coming from somewhere within, reverberating through the space despite the intervening wine racks.

“We probably don't want to let him finish that,” Karl whispers.

The party surges forward into the room, which, it appears, is not a mere wine cellar after all. The ceiling domes to a height of 20' overhead, braced by rotten wooden beams. The far end of the chamber has a raised dais, upon which are five sarcophagi, four of which are open. Four skeletons stand next to them, and three reddish-pink humanoids prowl around the perimeter. At the center is a hulking man with brutal, bestial features. His arms and legs are heavily muscled, and he stands well over 7' high. His broad body is draped in thick hides, sewn into crude but serviceable armor. A greatclub hangs at his side, but he holds a humanoid skull in each hand. It is from his foul mouth that the chanting is coming.*

Before anyone else can move, Alkor launches a pair of arrows, which sink into the half-ogre's chest. He grunts, and, without interrupting his chanting, motions at the skeletons, which stride forward to engage the party. The demons leap to the attack as well.

“Focus fire!” Karl shouts. “Take out the big guy!”

The party makes every effort to do just that. Alkor finds himself beset by the skeletons, and the evistro move to attack Orzza, while Quah-Nomag responds to the attacks of our heroes by throwing elbows and silently invoking the favor of his dark lord to punish nearby attackers with lightning and the energies of decay.

However, by (mostly) ignoring the other enemies, our heroes soon press Quah-Nomag hard. Orzza shouts, “I was born of a special egg, and I have found my true purpose! To slay you!!!”

Meanwhile, Alkor finds himself pressed hard and forced to retreat around the room to avoid being overwhelmed by the skeletons, while Orzza is wounded multiple times by the demons, which seem to grow more ferocious near others of their kind. Shar is reeling from an elbow to the temple, and Karl has managed to draw the attention of one of the skeletons to himself by continuosly throwing magic missiles through his wizard's fury.

Still, things are looking good for our heroes- except for one thing: Quah-Nomag's ritual is nearly finished. He locks eyes with Orzza, who is now severely wounded

“You miscalculate, little dragonborn,” the half-ogre rumbles. “You have indeed found your true purpose, but it is not what you think.”

He throws another elbow, knocking Orzza prone. The dragonborn groans, head hitting the ground hard, and lies senseless.

Quah-Nomag's lips curve into an ugly grin. “Your purpose is to serve as the sacrifice to complete this ritual.”

“No!” cries Karl, but their foe throws a second elbow into the back of Orzza's neck. There is a sickening crunch, and then the ritual finishes. With a hollow boom and a bloom of blackness, Quah-Nomag and his allies fall away into the Abyss, leaving behind only a lingering stench and a dragonborn corpse.

Next Time: On the heels of a terrific loss, our heroes must deal with another Double Javelin threat!


*To complete the ritual, Quah-Nomag needed to spend five standard actions within the next minute. But as a solo monster, he also had minor action and immediate reaction attacks. So he could fight and ritualize simultaneously. I will post his stats below.