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5E (IC) Vault of the Dracolich (Infiltrators)

Location: The Watchtower, 10 minutes to Nightfall

In the failing light, Corbo could barely see it as a wagon rolled to a stop across the bridge. Why didn't they use a lantern? Then he remembered - the driver could see in the dark with his orcish eyes.

"They're here, Tregg!" he nudged his companion, hunkered down behind the crenelation of the old stone tower. "No more half-rations on the grog!"

The night was going to be a cold one, as a wind had picked up, blowing from the south; funneled in along the winding river valley. Tregg shuffled his cloak tighter around his neck and glanced over his shoulder, "Signal 'em, then."

Corbo grabbed the large black-and-red flag from the stand, careful not to swing it through the torches, burning high on their poles. He waved it, slowly, back and forth. Far down below him, the wagon produced a flag of it's own and repeated the signal, a shout barely audible through the roar of the rapids flowing under the bridge came with it, "Feed the Beast!"

"Yep, that's them." said Tregg, who slumped back down behind the crenelation and closed his eyes, as if he would sleep.

Corbo put the flag back, raised no signal to the other guards and watched as the wagon, slowly at first but then more bodly, rolled toward him as the last of the day's light faded behind the peak accross from him.

* * *

"So far, so good!" smiled Lorenn, knowing his voice could not be heard over that distance, with the sound of the river. He skipped along on foot, on the driver's side of the wagon, unitil the driver, SnorLoska, gave him a no-nonsense look. Then he adjusted his helmet from where it rubbed at his half-elven ears, gripped his spear, and marched in the fashion of his "guard" disguise.

GM: This is the thread for "The Infiltrators",
A group that has taken the wagon captured by the Dispensables and plans to enter the Temple through the front door, in the disguise of mercenaries.
They are:
@gargoyleking playing Mord, Fallen Aasimaar Warlock (currently disguised as Rowloe, mercinary lieutenant, sitting shotgun)
@Prickly Pear playing SnorLoska, Half-Orc Barbarian (currently disguised as Harge, Half-Orc mercenary and driver)
@tglassy playing Terrus, Genasi Mystic (sitting at the back of the wagon, as another mercenary "thug")
Sitting next to him is possibly another PC, we will see.

On the ground walking are three NPCs disguised as mercenary guards):
Lorenn, a Half-Elf Noble, and Torbin and Kelley, two Human Scouts

[MENTION=6805410]Fradak[/MENTION] has taken over Lorenn and made him a Bladesinger/Rogue!

Rogues Gallery: http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?542700-(RG)-Vault-of-the-Dracolich-Basecamp
OCC Thread: http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?542368-(OOC)-Vault-of-the-Dracolich-5E-(Open-Recruitment)
Last edited:

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Terrus shrugs off the cold, not letting it bother him. He wasn't nervous. He was content. His job was to provide backup in case this went south. And that's what he would do.

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Prickly Pear

SnorLoska urged the horses forward. 'Feed the Beast'. Yeah, right. Whatever., he thought. "That wasn't too difficult but they didn't get a close look. The gate will be worse."


Mord scowled at Lorenn as the man voiced his opinion. "Don't tempt fate!" He snapped quietly once out of earshot and rapping his knuckles gently against the bench as a small ritual to distract the powers of irony. "Lets just focus on the task at hand for now."

He did his best to mimic the voice of the man whose image he had taken. Practicing for the inevitable test of his mimicry skills while also keeping up the act for any prying ears. "We can take our ease once these goods are safely delivered."

Squirrels are evil!

SnorLoska negotiated the wagon around some very large black rocks, some lying on the road as if tossed there by a Giant. The closer they came to Blackpeak, the more there were. In the back of the wagon, Terrus could "feel" their approach to the mountain, as if some sort of buzzing was in his head. He glanced at one of the black rocks, and in the darkness it appeared to him as if it were growing (or perhaps shrinking); it hurt his head to think about it. He steadied himself with a psychic exercise designed to calm his mind.

As they neared the Watchtower, the road veered to the left, just under the base of the tower. High above them, back-lit by large torches on tall staves, Corbo leaned out through the crenelations and yelled down, "You cut it pretty close to dark, fellows. Hey, got any samplings of that rum for a cold guardsman, Rowloe?"


Mord turns to converse with the guards as they pass by the tower. At the question he gently pats the keg tucked in right behind his bench. "Alas, I've only the one keg and nary a tap in sight. I'll tell 'em to save a double for each of you once you're relieved though." He did his best to sound like Rowloe, silently cursing his lack of information like names and customary banter.

OOC: Going to roll deception on the wild off-chance that it's needed, to keep things rolling.

Mord Deception: 1D20+5 = [5]+5 = 10

Squirrels are evil!

"Well, that's kind of you." grinned Corbo from above. Something was odd about Rowloe tonight, that was sure, but Corbo couldn't tell what it was. He squinted down at the wagon far below, deep in shadows. One of the new recruits shuffled about nervously.

You should be nervous, thought Corbo, cursing himself for having made the same mistake years before. Joining up with this lot.

Suddenly, a wind blew up hard enough that he almost lost his grip on the crenelation. Steady there, he told himself, don't fall to your death over a tot.

Without another thought on the matter, he waved the wagon on and moved behind the crenelation to get out of that blasted wind.

Prickly Pear

SnorLoska looked over his shoulder and grunted. He hoped that was the correct response. Most people of his kind didn't speak much. It was usually better that way. Less talk, less confusion.
SnorLoska continued to drive the horses forward. This road, if you could call it a road, was not easy to get through.

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As he walked behind the wagon, Kelley could feel his nervous anticipation grow. He'd never done anything quite like this before - as a youth, his father had taken him hunting, and they had run into an Orc. Lost in the forest after a raid, the orc had been underfed and yet it had still injured Kelley's father in the altercation. Kelley himself had stayed out of it, hiding in a bush, but he had seen the dead orc, and his father's wound, and it had challenged him.

Since that time, Kelley had become an accomplished hunter and woodsman, but to this day he had never fired his bow at a humanoid being. He had not seen war, and he hoped that he would not see it here, but he was not so foolish as to believe that they could retrieve the staff through subterfuge alone.

The Wagon rolled to a stop at the Temple Gate - large granite structure with steel-reinforced double-doors; a stone overhang with murder holes. The entire structure encased in the dark stone of Blackpeak, as if the stone itself had grown around it, rather than the stonework (entirely different looking rock) having been dug in to the side of the mountain.

"Do we knock?" he whispered to Terrus, there being no sign of anyone there, to welcome them or otherwise.


Mord looks down to Kelley, noticing his nervousness and scowls. "Do try to keep your nerve." He says gruffly and then looks back to the doors.

He wished he'd had time to interrogate the lieutenant, but they were already running late it seemed. The key to the whole thing seemed to be the favored catchphrase of these lunatics. So he decided to give that a try.

Giving his best Rowloe yell he let the doors have it. "FEED THE BEAST!"

Squirrels are evil!


Terrus looked back towards the rocks from before (not sure if he can see them) and wondered if he was right to dismiss them so.

OOC: Not sure if this will help if it's too late, but perception nonetheless: [roll0]

The rocks by the road made him feel uneasy, but the mountain itself, now that he was so near, seemed to buzz in his head. It was only by will, and practised mental exercises, that he could concentrate at all.

"You okay, man?" asked Kelley, seeing the growing unease in the man on the back of the wagon, who he had only met less than an hour before.

GM: I seem to recall that Terrus doesn't know Arcana, right? Roll Intelligence with proficiency either way.

Prickly Pear

SnorLoska nods when Mord calls out. "Feed the Beast... they like it, don't they?" SnorLoska smiles wryly. "Well, soon I'm going to feed them my knuckle sandwich... they'll like that!"

OOC: All of the Genasi know Arcana.

OOC: I thought they ought to.

After thinking about it for a short while, Terrus realised what had been bothering him. The signs were all there - the way the rock wrapped around the Watchtower and the Gate, similar to a lava flow, but there was no volcano.

The spires seemed to "grow" - so high that they "shed" rocks, which were littered across the road. The whole peak was made from a strange black rock which was incongruous with all the other rock of the area:

There was a very powerful elemental node here. He could feel it. It almost spoke to him.

Argyle awoke to the sound of shouting outside. He'd been sleeping a lot lately, when he probably shouldn't be. Must be age getting to you, he thought to himself. He stretched, scratched himself, and called down through the murder-hole next to the straw pallet he'd been sleeping on, "Hold your horses. We're getting to it."

An initiate's face appeared at the top of the ladder to the space above the gate. Argyle nodded to him. "Open it up, so these mercenaries can 'feed the beast' as they like to say - feed him our horde, they'd like." The initiate nodded and climbed back down the ladder. Dumb kid, thought Argyle, they get dumber all the time. Not like in my day. Just me and Silakul left, now there's a man with vision.

There was a rumbling noise, as the initiate and two others, at least as dumb, wound the large winch and the heavy gates slowly opened. Argyle slid down the ladder with a grace that belied his age, and he stepped out into the dark night to meet the arriving mercenaries. Or so he thought.

"Rowloe, I presume?" he said to the shadowy figure riding shotgun in the wagon, "They told me you'd be coming before dark."

"I am Argyle, your humble gatekeeper and I expect a bribe for your safe passage this evening."

Argyle was old-school Dragon Cult: His face had a dragon-skull tattoo, head shaven (though he had let grey stubble grow), his ears and nose had bone piercings (he probably called them dragon bones, whether they were or not). His bone-coloured robe was bordered in royal purple, and a dark green, symbolising the majesty and colour of the dragon he served.

Mord couldn't tell if he was kidding. Argyle stood calmly looking at him, with piercing green eyes, sizing him up. Behind Argyle, in the wide hall under the gate, three acolytes shuffled their feet and appeared nervous, as if they hadn't expected their commander to challenge the arrivals in any way, but weren't really surprised.

GM: Mord is going to need to make a Deception contest against Argyle's Insight of [roll0]. He doesn't know Rowloe, but he's sizing Mord up. If you fail, that doesn't mean the jig is up, but he may be suspicious and cause some trouble (I'll let you know based on the roll), just give me some dialogue to work with. BTW, Dude is Crazy.

GM: In case things go south, feel free to post Initiative Rolls the next time you post. I'm trying to get in the habit of having init on hand ahead of time.

Halloween Horror For 5E