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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 7589218" data-attributes="member: 1210">The Final City is a pressure cooker. Since long before the disastrous protest at which Mad Max unleashed his fury upon a young lad, the pressure has been building, but that particular moment won't be forgotten. Yes, the Army of Argos managed to shove the lid back on and hold it closed, but Mad Max's actions have certainly turned up the heat. In the Upper District, groups of farmers meet, some openly, some in secret. People rant and cry over their losses, but the murder of a child is unforgiveable. Demands for Max's head are sent to the Citadel, vanishing into the military decision-making apparatus with no reply.Elsewhere, in the hills outside of the city to the west, a large number of members of the Oaken Circle meet. The Oaken Circle is what remains of the druidic order that has long existed in parallel to civilized society, hiding in plain sight. The Oaken Circle's sympathies lie far closer to the farmers than to the army and the authorities in Fandelose, and they discuss what they can do to aid the farmers' plight. Their discussions will continue for months as they debate a proposal brought by one of their less forgiving heirophants- to attack where the city is weakest, its food supply.“But the farmers are our allies,” another druid protests. “If there are food shortages, they'll be the ones to suffer deprivation first. And if the Argos discovers that they intentionally sabotaged the crops, they'll be made to suffer.”But the one who proposed the idea shakes her head. “I've developed a spell for just this purpose,” she declares. “A spell that will both protect the farmers and harm the city.”“You Shadow Circlers are all the same,” sneers a goliath. “You just want to see the city fall.”“Is it wrong to wish to see even humanity return to its natural state? Is nature not what we all swear to uphold?”“It could be argued,” says another druid, this one a centaur, “that the city is the natural state of humans.”They will not resolve their debate for months. When the moot breaks up, one particular member wild shapes into a swift and wings away, descending in the hills just outside a strangely landscaped area. Giant ants rush all about, working to create a monoculture garden to encourage the growth of giant aphids for their nectar production. Here is the lair of a druid who did not attend the moot- one who is no longer welcome among his fellows. One who has turned from his own kind, firmly and with purpose; one who was once of the Shadow Circle, but who found satisfaction in a different way. This is the lair of the Ant-Man.***The journey to and up the mountain with the flame upon it takes several more days. Along the way, the group has to fight off several natural predators- a bear, an owlbear, a flock of blood hawks. As they draw closer, they encounter a group of goblins led by a hobgoblin warlord. After a brief, fierce clash, the party puts them to the sword. “We're getting closer, cuz,” David daVoi says.But as they come closer, they become more obvious to the goblins of the Iron Butterfly. From their vantage point above, the tribe can see them coming. And so the attacks become more frequent, with a group of worgs rushing out of the trees at them. Not long afterward, they stumble upon the remains of a campsite, but upon examination, it is too clean and well-tended to have been used by goblins. In addition, there is only one set of footprints in the camp, and they are larger than those a goblin would leave. Several hours later, the party catches several goblins secreted in the brush, spying on them, and ensures that they can't report back.“It's a sign!” Johann shrieks. “A sign from the GOD-BOMB!! Here, so far from home, so close to danger, we are shown that this place is for us, for our kind!” He rants on for several minutes- long and loud enough, in fact, to draw the camp's former occupant out. It is Sarec, who has been idly mulling over the idea of changing the spelling of his name. “Hey there, Hungus! It's been a while!”“What are you doing so far from the city by yourself?”“I'm out adventuring. I'm not a fan of the city, really. I've been hunting goblins.”“You should be careful, cousin,” David daVoi says. “It's dangerous out here.”“I'm not worried. I'm an outlander. We're used to this stuff.”“You realize that most of the outlanders around here have died off due to monsters, right?” Hungus shrugs. “I'm just saying.”“I'm not worried,” Sarec (perhaps Sarek, in the future?) repeats. “I'm a bad ass with my haliburt.” It takes the others a moment to realize that he's referring to his halberd. “If they even come too close to me, I'll smack 'em!”“One of these days,” Hungus sighs, “you're going to end up eaten by griffons.”“No way!” Sarec grins. “I'll be the one eating griffon steaks!”***Sarec isn't the only friendly face our heroes meet on their way up the mountain. When they break for an extended lunch, the Iron Patriot catches up to them from behind. He, as usual, is trying to protect his home, Red Bank, from the perennial threats surrounding it. When he enters the party's camp, he exclaims in a happy tone, then speaks at length, not that anyone can understand him. Nonetheless, David daVoi answers him: “Welcome aboard, cuz!”***Thus reinforced, the party cuts their way up the mountain, hewing through wave after wave of goblin assault. Some come with worgs, but the number of goblin-wolves is rapidly depleted.Soon our heroes face the sole surviving worg- an immense, old, grizzled bastard, ridden by the barghest itself, though the fiend's identity is not apparent until our heroes find their weapons barely able to hurt it. “The God-Bomb take you!” screams Johann, calling down the wrath of his deity in a burst of radiant power.The barghest and its worg ally are much tougher than any of the goblins the party has fought before. They have the last five goblins of the Iron Butterfly tribe with them, along with the worg mother's five young (but still fully-grown) brood. Yet Krank, Hungus, daVoi, and Sarek form a line that keeps the mass of enemies back from Johann and Dzedz, who hurl spell after spell at the barghest. The goblins fall first, but then the barghest manages to run David daVoi through with his spear. The noble scion collapses, blood spraying everywhere.“No you don't!” Hungus cries. He strikes and unleashes a smite, driving the barghest back. Then it changes, its body flowing into a new form- a hybrid goblin-worg, all snarling teeth and slashing claws. It leaps onto Hungus, and the two struggle. Johann leaps forward to daVoi's bleeding body. “It's not too late for you, brother!” the fanatic shouts, eyes blazing. “The power of the GOD-BOMB can still save you!!!” He presses his hands on daVoi's wounds, and they knit shut. David daVoi's eyes snap open, and he staggers to his feet.A worg rushes at him, but Sarek cuts it down before it can reach him. Dzedz fires off a shattering pulse, damaging most of the remaining enemies and throwing the big worg from its feet. “Now!” he shouts. “Get it!”Though Hungus is still too busy dueling the barghest, the other warriors do as Dzedz asks. Krank finishes the large worg with an overhand blow of his axe. The remaining worgs, seeing their mother die, break and flee. The adventurers let them go, finally free to place all their attention on the barghest itself. Snapping, snarling, the monster backs up slowly as the warriors of civilization press it. Sarek's halbert hacks into its chest; Johann hits it with a sacred flame; daVoi rushes to flank it with Hungus. Dzedz calls out, “You're done, monster!” He blasts it with a volley of magic missiles, but it still won't fall. It rips open daVoi's wounds, sending him spinning back to the ground. With a growl, Hungus says, “Feel the power of my Queen!” He roars and swings, unleashing the last of his power in the mightiest smite he can. The monster wobbles, but remains standing.The Iron Patriot gives a cry, screams incomprehensibly, and attacks, laying into the barghest with all his might. Making confusing noises, the dwarven defender of Red Bank puts his all into it. Flecks of foam fly from his mouth. And finally, a punishing blow from his maul connects with the fiend's head, and the barghest falls at last. In only moments, its corpse begins to give off foul vapors, and in less than ten minutes, all that is left of it is a stinking, greasy stain and some rancid, rapidly-softening bones and hair. ***Once more, the Iron Patriot finds himself in the wrong place.After looting the treasure from the Iron Butterfly goblins' lair, the party returned to the city. Somehow, Iron Patriot missed the turn to Red Bank again- and here he is, back in the damned city. He complains to the others, but they just don't understand him. At least he can look for Big John while he's here.***All that money is addictive. These adventurers, far from heroes when they began, have at least acted heroically. They have aided the most helpless people in the area, the folk of Red Bank; they have driven away a fiend from the Lower Planes; and they have come out wealthy for their efforts.“The next step past wealthy,” Hungus points out to the others, “is downright rich! We've gotta keep doing this stuff.”“We already killed the goblins,” Sarek says. “What next?”Dzedz and Hungus exchange a glance.“Let's go back to the gnoll-hole,” suggests the wizard.“Yes!” cries Hungus. “Megadungeon!”The party keeps drinking. The brewery, while not a tavern per se, has become one of their favorite haunts. It is also rapidly becoming infamous for the adventurers who come and buy rounds for everyone. Business is good.“I want to buy a house!” Hungus declares.But that's easier said than done. After all, if someone in the city sells their house- where would they live? There is only one answer: outside the walls. And living outside the walls is very, very dangerous. Only the boldest or more desperate do so, and most of them are picked off by one threat or another after a few years. The houses that cluster near the walls just outside the city are safest, but even they suffer the depradations of the local wildlife. Griffon attacks, while not common, are far from rare. Owlbears, giant insects, and other things periodically hunt the alleys in the dark of night, and the careless frequently go missing.Far easier, the group will eventually find, is locating a house for rent.Next Time: Our heroes head down the gnoll-hole to the Laughing Level!</blockquote>

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