ADVENTURE 1: FESTIVAL OF BLOOD
PC Roster:
Cramer Appleknocker, gnome cleric 1
Jhasspok, lizardfolk 1
Khari Hammerslammer, dwarf fighter 1
Marlo Pendragon, human sorcerer 1
Utred "Buckets" Butterflinger, dwarf barbarian 1
Game Session Date: 16 October 2019
- - -
Jhasspok awoke in darkness.
Of the five of them, only the lizardfolk knew exactly where they were and why they were there. He hadn't seen any of the other four before yesterday evening, when they had each been carried into this room, unconscious, wearing only the cloth gowns that were their only apparel. The drow handlers had dropped them along the walls of the small room and departed without a word. And shortly after that the purple-flamed torches along the walls had dimmed, indicating it was time for sleep. Jhasspok, a slave for all five of his years - his egg had been taken from the surface and he'd been hatched into slavery; it was the only life he'd ever known - had immediately curled up and gone to sleep, giving the newcomers no further thought. Sleep was precious; it wasn't always granted in the quantities desired so a smart slave learned to take advantage of the opportunity when it was presented.
Now, awake in the darkness of the room, the lizardfolk tried to recall what the newcomers had looked like. Two of them were dwarves, easily identified by their stout bodies and thick beards; dwarves were common in the slave-pens of the drow of the Overreach. Another looked to be an even smaller version of a dwarf, the size and build of a svirfneblin but with lighter skin and a beard only on the chin, not the cheeks. The fourth was something of a puzzle; Jhasspok was fairly certain it was female, but pinning down a race was difficult: it had rounded ears so it wasn't an elf, but it was just shy of five feet tall - a short human or a tall halfling, perhaps?
The torches started producing illumination once again at some unknown signal from the drow masters of the city; the light sources were magical, with illusory purple flames that gave off no heat and only that type of radiance known as "slave-light" - bright enough for the slaves to see by but not hindering in the least to the light-sensitive drow masters, for it was of a magical property that was invisible to those of the dark elf race. With the sudden illumination - of a normal hue despite the purple flames - the four newcomers started to come to.
"Wha--?" asked one of the dwarves in a bleary voice. "Where'm I?" He held a hand to his head, apparently fending off a horrific hangover. "How'd I get here? Where's me weapons an' armor?"
Jhasspok ignored the dwarf's questions, as they had been spoken in the bearded one's native language and the lizardfolk did not understand the Dwarven tongue. He just stared impassively as the dwarf sat up, looked down at his thin gown and the hairy legs sticking out from beneath it, and tried shaking his bearded head to possibly make some sense of the world.
Across the room, the other dwarf sat up. He also had a querying look upon his face, scanning the others in the room and frowning at the lack of recognition. Next to him, the smaller male - Jhasspok would learn later he was called a gnome - began to stir as well, stretching out his arms and yawning impressively as if having just awoken from a comfortable bed despite having spent the night on the cold stone floor like the rest of them. Then the female shrieked with a start, sitting up and cringing in the corner of the room. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Where are we? What do you want?"
These questions at least Jhasspok understood, for they were spoken in the Slave Tongue - what some referred to as "Common." The drow had an elaborate language of their own but when dealing with slaves they always spoke in the Slave Tongue and it was the only language Jhasspok knew, having been taught it by other slaves during his childhood. But before he could attempt to answer the female there was the clank of metal on metal as the sole door to the room was unlocked and pulled open. Stepping through the doorway came
Calish Jalamir, the slavemaster Jhasspok had dealt with for the last two years. The lizardfolk immediately rose to his feet, lowering his head in dutiful submission. "Master," he greeted the drow.
"Good morning, everyone," Calish said to the inhabitants of the room. "I imagine you're all wondering why you're here." The dark-skinned elf grinned, his white teeth shining in the slave-light of the torches ringing the room. Jhasspok liked Calish; he had always been friendly to his slaves - not like the previous slavemaster. Jhasspok had not liked that one at all.
"I don't know what your lives were like up to this point and it really doesn't matter in any case - what matters now is what happens from this point on. You are now the property of House Jalamir, to do with as we see fit. Slaves, not to put too fine a point on it. So, let me explain your first opportunity to bring glory to our noble House.
"Every ten years, the three-day Festival of Blood occurs. The eight ruling houses each gather five slaves to be sacrificed to
Lolth in the arena; you, as you might have guessed, are House Jalamir's chosen sacrifices." He looked down at the cringing woman, trying very hard to make herself even smaller than her own diminutive stature, and smiled at her. "But take heart: not all of the sacrifices die in the arena; you will have an opportunity to earn your lives and continue to serve House Jalamir."
Calish looked around and saw he had all five of the slaves' undivided attention, whether out of fear or disbelief or a desire to learn whatever they could to help save their own lives didn't really matter to the drow slavemaster, so long as they were suitably attentive to his words. "The lesser noble Houses send any number of slaves into the arena for single combat during all three days of the festival. The eight ruling Houses - of which House Jalamir is currently ranked at number three - are paired off into four teams of ten, five from each of two Houses. On day two of the festival the first and last matches will be two teams of ten fighting each other until a combined total of ten bodies lie dead upon the ground. The ten remaining members of those formerly opposing teams are then formed into a new team of ten and on day three, as the final match of the festival, these last two teams fight until one team is slain to the last man. At that point, the arena battle turns immediately into a free-for-all, with the remaining members of each of the surviving Houses' original teams attacking the surviving members of the other Houses until the slaves of only one House remains. Those slaves are the only ones to walk away alive from the festival and their House earns a great deal of respect and prestige."
The gnome spoke up. "And if we win, we gain our freedom?" he asked.
Calish laughed openly at such an odd notion. "Why, of course not! You are now slaves of House Jalamir - that is your fate for the rest of your lives, and the quicker that sinks in and you accept it the better things will be for you. Jhasspok, tell them; is life as a slave a difficult one?"
"No, master," the lizardfolk replied at once.
"No, it certainly isn't," Calish agreed. "You are fed, clothed, taken care of. And in return, you need only devote yourselves to the good of your new House. Now then: some ground rules. You may have noticed some discomfort on your backs." One of the dwarves - the sober one - nodded instantly and tried looking at his own back, ignoring the physical impossibility such a contortion required, while the one with the hangover looked just as puzzled as he had during the rest of the drow slavemaster's speech thus far. The gnome and the woman both reached behind them, beneath their thin gowns, feeling bandages attached to their upper backs, between their shoulder blades. "You have each been granted a tattoo upon your upper backs," Calish continued, "the proud emblem of House Jalamir. They can only be seen by those with darkvision, so they'll remain invisible to most of you but the dwarves can verify they're there. These tattoos not only identify you as property of House Jalamir but are also the means by which we ensure your compliance. The magic of your tattoos will inhibit your ability to attack a drow - of any House - and punish you immediately should you somehow overcome the inhibition. We will also be able to cast any spells deemed necessary through your tattoos: a
command to return here should you stray from your duties, perhaps, or a
fireball,
slay living, or worse should you really get out of line." The smile came back onto the drow slavemaster's face as quickly as if he had hit a switch. "But I am quite certain that, knowing the capabilities of your tattoos, you will keep out of trouble and such punishments will not be needed. Now then: any questions?"
"Why us?" asked the woman, still cringing in the corner.
"Simple targets of opportunity," Calish replied. "We needed five slaves and you are who our raiders caught."
"How come the lizard don't got a tattoo?" asked the sober dwarf, noticing Jhasspok's lack of a gown like the others.
"Oh, but he does," replied Calish. "He's had his since shortly after he was hatched. Jhasspok, turn around for your new friends, why don't you?" Despite the pleasantness of the request, Jhasspok knew it for what it was: the demand of a drow to a slave. He spun about, facing the wall and revealing his back to the others. The dwarves saw the tattoo etched into the lizardfolk's scales: four sets of two parallel lines forming an octagon in the middle with sixteen projections sticking out of the corners at all angles and two diamond shapes, one atop the other, in the middle of the octagon. Jhasspok turned back around and faced his master; the drow, seeing his quizzical expression, asked, "Do you have a question, Jhasspok?"
"Am I no longer to be a fisher?" Jhasspok asked. Catching fish from the Underdark sea for the drow had been Jhasspok's main job for as much of his life as he could remember.
"You have served us admirably in that role - but you are now needed in this role even more. A slave of your status will please the Spider-Goddess, either as a blood sacrifice or an arena victor, of that I am certain."
"Yes, master," Jhasspok replied. He'd miss his days as a fisher but that was no longer an option; best not to dwell on it. There were many things a slave might wish for but few he might actually get.
The door behind Calish opened again and a pair of drow, a male and a female, stood at attention. "You and you," Calish said, pointing to the woman and the gnome in turn, "go with them. They will return to you the items you had with you when you were first captured." The woman got to her feet at once, visibly frightened at what might happen if she failed to comply; the gnome stood at a much slower pace, acting as if he had all the time in the world. They were taken from the larger room, leaving the lizardfolk and the two dwarves behind.
"Name?" asked the male drow once he'd taken the gnome to a small room just off the main corridor.
"Cramer Appleknocker," the gnome replied. The drow nodded and made a mark on a sheet of parchment in his hand. He then pointed to a small chest on the floor, indicating the slave should open it. "Here are your belongings," said the drow. "Confirm that everything inside is yours." Cramer opened the chest, taking in his clothing, armor, weapons, holy symbol of
Fharlanghn - and a set of ten scrolls, each inscribed with the words to a
cure light wounds spell, that he'd never seen before. Seeing the slave's hesitation, the drow added, "Confirm that these are your items that you'll be bringing into the arena with you." Cramer caught on at once: he was being given an extra edge in keeping his team alive in the arena; apparently House Jalamir wasn't against a slight bit of cheating to ensure their arena slaves made a good showing in the Festival of Blood. "Yep, it looks like everything's there," he replied and was told to get dressed.
One room over, Marlo Pendragon was getting the same treatment from the female drow. She received eight scrolls as well in addition to her clothing and gear (including her toad familiar Truffles, who she placed in a pocket of her robe, fearful the lizardfolk might try to eat him), although her scrolls contained a variety of arcane spells:
burning hands,
chill touch,
color spray, and
shocking grasp, two of each. After she dressed, Marlo was brought back to the room where she had awakened and one of the dwarves was taken to fetch his gear; the process continued until all five slaves had been given back their belongings, although only the two spellcasters among them had been given anything they hadn't already previously owned.
"I will leave you to get acquainted," said Calish. "You should learn to fight together as a group, sort out your combat strategies, that sort of thing. Your lives will depend upon your ability to vanquish your enemies."
"When does this festival begin?" asked Cramer. "How long do we have to prepare?"
"Oh, didn't I mention?" smiled Calish. "Today is day one of the festival. You fight your first battle tomorrow. We have been paired with House Ky'hulcressen. Good luck to you all." And with that, Calish Jalamir exited the room, locking the metal door behind him.
Marlo, much calmer now that she was in her own clothes and had had time to think through her situation, took the initiative. She reached a hand out to the little gnome and introduced herself. "I'm Marlo Pendragon," she said. "I'm a sorceress. I know a few combat spells. I'll try to put them to good use tomorrow." She thought about what else she should tell this group. "I was attacked on the surface while going down a road to fetch some supplies for some potters in my family. I didn't see who attacked me - they knocked me out almost at once. I've never even seen a drow before today."
"Cramer Appleknocker," replied the gnome. "I'm a cleric of Fharlanghn. I wasn't taken by the drow - I came here on my own." Seeing Marlo's look of surprise, he added, "I saw a drow raiding party attack and capture a cleric friend of mine. I followed them here, but I got turned around in the passageways and was eventually captured myself. But I don't intend to stay here long - just long enough to find and free my friend, and then we'll see about getting out of here."
"I'm Khari Hammerslammer," said the sober dwarf. He now wore scale mail and held a massive warhammer in one hand, with a large, oval, steel shield strapped to his other arm. "I'm a scout for my clan. Went explorin' down a tunnel a bit too far from home, got taken by a drow ambush party. But I can hold my own in a fight."
"I'm hungover sumthin' fierce," admitted the other dwarf. "But me name's Utred Butterflinger. Friends call me 'Buckets.' S'pose you kin call me 'Buckets' if ye wanna, seein's how me life's tied up in yours an' all." Buckets had a greataxe and a variety of additional weapons, among them a morningstar and a dagger or two.
Everyone looked expectantly at Jhasspok. "I am Jhasspok," he said. When it became apparent that was all he was going to offer about himself, Cramer prompted, "What weapons've you got there, Jhasspok?"
"Jhasspok," corrected the lizardfolk.
"What?"
"My name is Jhasspok."
"That's what I said."
"No - you said 'Jhasspok,' not Jhasspok."
"Jhasspok."
"No, Jhasspok."
"Jhasspok."
"No, not 'Jhasspok' - Jhasspok."
It was apparent there was something Cramer was missing in the pronunciation of the lizardfolk's name - either that, or the silly bugger was hard of hearing, or possibly just an idiot. But then Jhasspok solved the problem for everyone by deciding, "I'll tell you what - you can just call me 'Jhasspok' as a nickname." Then, remembering the gnome's question, he looked down at his weapons. "I have a net for catching fish and a club for bashing fish on the head and a dagger for slitting open fish." He also held a shield made from the shell of a large turtle, but as he'd only been asked about weapons he didn't mention it.
"You ever fight anything other than fish?" asked Cramer. The lizardfolk just looked at him quizzically, as if turning the idea over in his brain for the first time ever.
"Tell ye what," suggested Buckets. "When we meet up with our opponents in the arena tomorrow, just pretend they're all fish."
The rest of the day was spent going over general combat strategies, although not knowing what they'd be facing in the arena the next day made it difficult to plan for specifics - after all, the plan for facing ten fighters with swords would be much different than going into combat with a like number of wizards. Buckets offered his morningstar to Jhasspok to use in the arena, pointing out it could be used in the same manner as the lizardfolk's simple wooden club but would inflict much more damage to an enemy. The lizardfolk practiced swinging it about, getting used to its weight and feel. He was also bombarded by questions from the others, since he'd spent his entire life in the Overreach. Answering as best as he could, he provided the others with the following information:
- The eight Noble Houses of the Overreach were each headquartered in one of eight enormous, hollow pillars formed by the merging of a massive stalactite and an equally-large stalagmite, reaching down from the ceiling of a mile-tall cavern all the way to the bottom of the bioluminescent sea that covered the lower half of the cavern.
- The area 10 feet below the cavern's ceiling and directly above was covered in a permanent reverse gravity spell, allowing the drow to walk unhindered along the ceiling.
- The lesser Houses were headquartered in smaller, hollow stalactites hanging down from the ceiling.
- The Underdark sea extended far beyond the giant cavern where the drow city of Overreach was housed.
- The five arena slaves of House Jalamir were currently in a hollow stalactite hanging from the ceiling, adjacent to the arena in which they'd be fighting tomorrow.
- The arena was outside the reverse gravity field, so they'd be fighting right-side-up during their battles.
- Those slain in the arena were "ejected" through the floor in some fashion Jhasspok didn't understand - but he'd recovered what was left of their bodies on several different occasions, after other skirmishes that had taken place there (Jhasspok hadn't been born yet at the time of the last Festival of Blood).
- Meal time occurred at irregular intervals, when food was brought to the slaves - not before. (This last was in answer to a question asked by Cramer, who was getting hungry by then.)
Cramer asked the others if they were really going to go through with the arena battle. "We can make a break for it, when they come for us tomorrow morning," he suggested.
"And go where?" asked Buckets. "We don't even know where we are."
"The lizard does." But this wasn't true; Jhasspok had never stepped beyond the confines of the Overreach since first hatching. As far as he was concerned, the Overreach was the whole of the world.
"But don't you want to be free?" pushed Cramer. This got the lizardfolk cogitating once again, his head tilted at an angle, deep in thought. After a moment, Jhasspok asked, "What is 'free'?"
"You know, free! Decide for yourself what to do, not do what the drow tell you to!"
Jhasspok gave this some further thought. "You mean, eat some of the fish I give to the drow? And not just the heads, after they've eaten the rest?"
Cramer snorted in irritation. "I mean eat
all of the fish you catch! Screw the drow! We could all sneak out of here and be free!"
"Don't forget the tattoos," reminded Marlo. "We'll have to have some way to overcome them if we're really going to try to escape at some point."
"Hrrm," thought Cramer, his eagerness to escape deflating. "So...I guess it's the arena for us tomorrow, after all."
Eventually evening time came, evidenced only by the dimming of the slave-light torches. "We sleep now," Jhasspok told the others.
The next day, the slaves were given a simple breakfast, allowed quick use of toilet facilities, and then herded into the arena where they met up with the five slaves of House Ky'hulcressen. These five were all dressed identically, in form-fitting silk clothing the hardness of iron. "You guys been slaves long?" asked Khari.
"Since yesterday, actually," replied one of the House Ky'hulcressen slaves.
"Oh, yeah? Then howdja all get the matchin' outfits?"
The slave looked the dwarf straight in the eye and said, "We have always had this ironsilk armor." It was apparent House Jalamir wasn't the only House willing to give their combat slaves a bit of an edge if possible.
The ten slaves were sent out onto the arena floor, although there didn't seem to be any floor there at first; the actual arena portion of the structure was an oval shape of raised benches for the drow audience in attendance with apparently nothing between them but open air over a plunge of half a mile into the bioluminescent sea below. But experimentation showed there was an invisible
wall of force making up a perfectly smooth surface for the combatants to fight upon. Marlo gulped at the view below her. "This is going to take some getting used to!" she said.
From the other side of the arena stepped the other group of ten combatants: nine humans and a half-elf, by the look of it. Half of this group seemed to be simple commoners from the surface world, darting fearful glances in all directions. The other five were more seasoned: a pair of archers, two street thieves, and the half-elf's rugged hides pegged him as a barbarian.
A sudden voice blared across the arena, instantly hushing the excited talk of the audience along the raised benches. The voice spoke in the drow language - which none of the slaves spoke - and was likely enhanced by magic to make it as loud as it was. But the last word was spoken in the Slave Tongue: "Commence."
Khari, a seasoned fighter in his clan, advanced to the middle of the arena and took a defensive stance, holding his shield up before him but ready to strike with his warhammer, held behind him to bash forward into the head of whatever enemy first got into range. Marlo followed immediately with a
magic missile spell cast at one of the archers in the back; she wasn't a seasoned veteran of fight-to-the-death battles but realized those with a ranged capability were deadlier in the opening moments of an arena battle than those who first had to close with the enemy.
Then a male rogue from the opposing forces sprinted forward, his blade ready to strike out at Khari. The dwarf slammed his hammer into the foe's side as he approached but the rogue's blade nicked Khari in the arm as he was sent staggering away from the force of the dwarf's blow.
Cramer stepped forward, casting a
bless spell on the five House Jalamir slaves and those of House Ky'hulcressen as well. He knew his role here would be to aid the others in their hand-to-hand combats where possible and bring a healing touch to those who needed it, and this particular spell would aid his allies in striking the enemy with their various weapons.
With a cry, the ironsilk-armored warriors dashed straight across the arena, charging into the group of commoners directly before them. After this vicious assault, only one of the commoners lay dead upon the ground...not a very impressive beginning, but at least the first casualty was to the other side!
But then the two archers unleashed their arrows into two of the ironsilk warriors of House Ky'hulcressen as the half-elf barbarian waded into battle with them as well. He dropped one of their number with a massive greatsword, bringing the death tally to one each. Then the commoners attacked, proving themselves to be a more battle-ready force than their initial appearances had first suggested.
Utred charged the male rogue Khari had sent reeling, dropping him with a single blow of his greataxe. That put the score at 2-1 in the House Jalamir/Ky'hulcressen team's favor. Jhasspok charged the half-elf barbarian, seeking to drop him with his new, borrowed weapon, but he swung and missed...perhaps because the half-elf didn't move like a fish.
The female rogue advanced, seeking retribution for the death of her thieving partner, but her blade missed Utred entirely. Then Khari stepped up and splattered her brains with a mighty blow from his warhammer. The two bearded slaves grinned at each other, sharing a brief moment of dwarven brotherhood on the field of battle.
Marlo cast another
magic missile spell at her previous target, for her reasoning hadn't changed. However, even after the attack the archer seemed to be clinging to his life out of sheer stubbornness. Cramer cast a different spell - the opposite, in a sense, of his previous one - sending a
bane spell at the enemy, hampering their ability to strike true with their weapons. However, the
bane spell wasn't an automatic success as the
bless spell had been and of the enemy forces only the archers and the barbarian were affected - the hearty commoners all managed to shrug off the spell's effects. These were some rather impressive commoners indeed!
However, as impressive as they might be they weren't invincible, as evidenced by the ironsilk warriors bringing a pair of them down with their blades. There were now half a dozen dead on the battlefield, only one of them an ally of House Jalamir.
But then the archers struck again, sending one arrow just barely missing Khari and another plunging deep into Jhasspok's upper chest. The lizardfolk staggered, then was felled by a blow from the half-elf barbarian's greatsword. The commoners managed to drop another of the ironsilk warriors, bringing the score to a much closer 5-3. Two more deaths were all the sacrifices Lolth would get from this battle and then those dead - or at least laid out and bleeding to death - would be discarded into the Underdark sea half a mile below the arena.
Utred didn't take Jhasspok's death lightly: he allowed the rage to take over all conscious thought, becoming a whirling mass of death and facing his half-elf counterpart in direct battle. Khari joined his fellow dwarf in attacking the half-elf, although the fighter managed to keep a level head about him, even managing to see Jhasspok snorting blood from his nostrils with each ragged breath - the lizardfolk was still alive!
Marlo cast her third and final
magic missile spell of the day, finally dropping the archer she'd been targeting all during the combat. That made a full nine downed combatants - but then Cramer read the words from one of the
cure light wounds spell he'd been given and Jhasspok rose unsteadily to his feet. The crowd roared, some of them in excitement and others in disappointment, but there were now clearly only eight dead on the arena floor - the battle would continue!
The ironsilk warriors of House Ky'hulcressen managed to slay another of the surprisingly-hard-to-kill commoners, leaving only one of their original number still alive. But this last commoner swung his hammer with all his might, staggering one of the ironsilk warriors such that he could barely remain standing. The crowd gasped, wondering if this would be the tenth and final death, but the wobbling warrior kept his footing although he wisely wandered a few steps back, out of immediate combat range.
The sole remaining archer fired another arrow but it missed the staggering ironsilk warrior by dint of simple chance; the man was still wobbling, trying to remain standing, and just happened to stagger out of the way of the arrow at the last moment. It was Utred who finished off the tenth victim of the arena: the half-elf barbarian, practically cut into two by the force of the dwarf's greataxe. Utred grabbed the foe's greatsword as he fell to the ground; by his count, this was victim number ten and the fight should be over - but there was no need for such a fine weapon to go to waste!
Utred was quite correct: with ten slain combatants, the sections of the
wall of force directly beneath the corpses vanished momentarily, allowing them to plunge instantly down into the faintly-glowing sea below. Cheers erupted from the crowd all around the arena and the magically-enhanced voice returned, saying something in the drow language that went completely over the heads of the slaves. But all the slaves cared about at the moment was they had survived; that and the healing provided by the lesser drow clerics of Lolth assigned to such lowly duties as tending to slaves. They were returned to their large, empty room, into which was soon also brought food and drink of a higher quality - and quantity - than had been provided the day before.
The rest of the day and most of the next passed in nervous anxiousness. Now that the slaves had had their first taste of combat they better knew what the third day of the Festival of Blood would be like. However, they were still separated from the remaining arena slaves of House Ky'hulcressen and those who had survived the battle against them; these former enemies would now be grafted into their team for the last battle but they were not allowed to coordinate battle strategies with slaves of other Houses beforehand; these Overreach drow kept their Houses separate to a ridiculous degree, it seemed.
On day three of the Festival of Blood, the five slaves of House Jalamir and their temporary allies were sent out into the arena again. All was as it had been the previous day, save for the enemy force they'd be fighting: five orcs, four goblins, and a hobgoblin. Two of the orcs and the hobgoblin wore no armor, suggesting they were likely spellcasters of some type. "We'll want to take them out first, if possible," suggested Utred, although he and Khari were ready to deal whatever damage they could to any of these goblinoid foes - all three races were traditional enemies of the dwarves with a mutual animosity going back many centuries.
Again there was a sound-amplified speech in the drow language, followed by the single word "Commence" in the Slave Tongue. The allied archer let loose the arrow he'd had nocked and ready to go since the drow speech had started; the arrow flew across the arena to strike the hobgoblin in the shoulder before he could duck in time. Marlo, at the same time, cast a
magic missile spell at one of the unarmored orcs but he failed to drop; instead, he began chanting in a low, rumbling tone, casting a
bless spell on the goblinoid forces. The other orc adept stepped forward, ready to cast a spell of his own.
An orc in the back ranks had a longbow of his own and he targeted Jhasspok - easily the tallest of the enemy forces and therefore a likely possibility for the toughest - but the lizardfolk got his turtle-shell shield up in time to deflect the incoming missile. Jhasspok ran forward, readying his net to throw at the orc shaman, thinking he'd have a difficult time getting his spell off if he were entangled in the web of ropes. Unfortunately, Jhasspok missed with his throw, again wishing he was back in the bioluminescent waters of the Underdark sea, where his targets were fish who generally did not fight back.
Fortunately for the lizardfolk, though, Khari had his back - he stepped forward and slew the orc adept with a powerful blow from his warhammer before the spellcaster could get his readied spell off. Cramer stepped behind the dwarven fighter, casting a
bane spell that undid the effects of the
bless spell the other adept had cast upon the goblinoids, leaving all but one or two of them bereft of the magical aid they'd just been granted moments before.
Utred charged forth and slew one of the orc warriors in the front ranks, practically gutting him with a side-slash of his greataxe. There were now two dead combatants on the arena floor, both from the opposing side: a good start!
But then the hobgoblin stepped forward, his hands spread out before him. As arcane syllables spilled from his lips, a sheet of flames gushed forth, momentarily encompassing Jhasspok, Khari, and Utred. But the hobgoblin's look of triumph faltered when he saw how little actual damage his
burning hands spell had done to the front-line enemy combatants - and now he was out there in the middle of the arena with them!
Another orc warrior rushed to the hobgoblin's aid, slashing at Utred with a greataxe of his own. The three ironsilk warriors advanced upon the goblin forces in a rush, but failed to kill any - although one goblin was staggered, just about at death's door but unwilling to walk completely through it. He retreated to the back of the arena with all possible speed while the other three goblins rushed forward to engage the ironsilk warriors of House Ky'hulcressen.
The sole commoner to have survived the battle on day two of the Festival of Blood rushed forth with his weapon, again proving his mettle by charging and staggering the hobgoblin sorcerer with a blow of his hammer. His archer companion, from the same House, shot and missed with an arrow that went whizzing by the ear of the sole remaining orc adept. But Marlo finished off the hobgoblin with a trusty
magic missile spell, easily her favorite spell thus far in her short career as an arena gladiator.
The orc spellcaster whirled and tried hitting Utred with a simple touch of his hand - but that hand was glowing with the power of an untriggered spell just waiting to be released. The dwarven barbarian skipped easily back out of range as Jhasspok stepped up and brought the dwarf's loaned morningstar crashing down upon the orc's head, garnering the lizardfolk his first kill.
The orc archer let fly with another arrow, catching one of the ironsilk warriors in the throat and slaying him instantly. This was the first death from that team, while the goblinoid forces had already suffered the deaths of four of their combatants. However, unlike the previous day's contest, this battle would continue until one entire team had been slain.
Khari advanced and attacked the sole remaining orc skirmisher with a warhammer swing that sent the brutish beast falling to the ground. But the orc quickly regained his feet and faced the oncoming dwarven fighter, still in the fight. Cramer stayed where he was - there were no combatants close enough to interrupt his spellcasting - and cast a
bless spell upon only the House Jalamir members of his team, for he recalled what would happen once the goblinoids were all defeated; there was no point in giving any advantage to a future enemy.
Utred attacked the orc warrior and missed, receiving a deep gash from the orc's greataxe in return. Grimacing in pain, the wounded dwarf was forced to backtrack to Cramer for healing. The orc warrior let the dwarven barbarian retreat, swinging suddenly at Khari instead and catching the fighter in a side-swing of his greataxe that sent the Hammerslammer dwarf reeling, unconscious, onto the arena floor. It was likely the fact that he certainly appeared to be dead already that prevented the orc from making sure with a decapitating blow, but fortunately for Khari there were other combatants nearby attracting the orc's attention away from his prone and helpless victim.
The ironsilk warriors managed to stagger a few more goblins but were having a rather hard time taking any of them out of the fight. The goblins were generating a lot of boos and catcalls from the audience, given their penchant for fleeing from battle when so grievously wounded. Marlo used one of her
burning hands scrolls in an attempt to take out three of the scattering goblins, but two of them dodged beneath the sheet of flames and emerged unscathed. The commoner managed to kill one, dropping his iron hammer onto the staggered goblin's head.
Behind Marlo, the allied archer shot and missed with another arrow, this one aimed at the orc archer in the back ranks of his own forces. The orc archer proved to be a much better shot, unfortunately by taking down the unnamed commoner who had earned quite a lot of respect from House Jalamir's slaves for his combat prowess; when he fell backwards with an arrow protruding from his forehead the other slaves on his team groaned with sadness at his demise.
Jhasspok rushed the orc archer, hoping to take him down with Utred's morningstar. He swung and missed, but at least forced the archer to lower his bow while dodging the incoming blow. He snapped at the orc with his sharp teeth - an instinctive move Jhasspok hadn't been aware he was going to do until he was already doing it - but they too failed to find their target.
Cramer used another of his forbidden scrolls to heal Khari, who was bleeding out onto the arena floor. The
cure light wounds spell closed off the deep gash he'd taken at the orc warrior's axe-blade, bringing the dwarven fighter back at least to sluggish consciousness. He got to his knees, then to his feet, grabbing up his warhammer and shield and looking about for the nearest enemy. The orc warrior who had downed Khari was now attacking one of the slaves in ironsilk armor, swinging and missing (much to the Ky'hulcressen slave's relief). And then the orc was taken down by a pair of strikes from two of the ironsilk warriors, finally pulling their weight in this combat.
Utred charged and slew one of the goblins, practically slicing the screaming coward in two with the force of his blow and the sharpness of his greataxe. He then spun in place and cut down the last remaining goblin, sending him sprawling face-first onto the arena floor.
Of the goblinoid forces there was only one remaining: the orc archer. He looked frantically about the arena for allies and saw he was the last one standing from his team. With a stoic expression, he faced the lizardfolk snapping at him, ready to go down fighting.
But the "allied" archer decided it was close enough to their side having won the initial skirmish to start whittling down the forces of the other Houses. He sent an arrow directly into Marlo's back, sending the sorceress dropping instantly to her hands and knees. But she gritted her teeth at the pain, spun about, and cast a
color spray spell at the betraying archer. It would have been karmic - and extremely gratifying - if the spell slew the traitor there on the spot, but Fate often has other ideas and the archer avoided all effects of the spell.
A side-swing of the morningstar swept the orc archer's longbow out of his grasp and then Jhasspok was upon him, ripping his throat out with his sharp teeth. The two collapsed to the ground, the lizardfolk's muzzle covered in the slain orc's blood; when he arose he looked like some primitive, primordial dinosaur.
Seeing they were now in the "every House for itself" portion of the arena battle, Khari slew both remaining ironsilk warriors in rapid succession with rapid-fire blows from his warhammer; it served the Ky'hulcressen slaves right for trying to flank the battle-ready dwarf from opposite directions.
A sudden thought hit Cramer Appleknocker and he voiced it to his new allies. "Say, do you think we have time to loot the corpses ahead of time if there's at least one enemy still in play?" he called out.
"Let's find out!" Utred replied, racing at the backstabbing archer and tackling him about the waist. He let his greataxe fall to the arena floor beside him, allowing him to crush the archer in a bear hug. "I want some of that armor!" Marlo called out, and Khari pulled a set of ironsilk armor off one of the slain Ky'hulcressen slaves while Jhasspok grabbed up the orc's longbow and pulled the quiver from his back. Even Cramer started gathering up weapons, although most of them were much too big for the little gnome to use himself. Finally, he gave Utred the okay and the dwarven barbarian snapped the traitorous archer's neck with his bare hands. Then, mindful of what had happened the last time they had won, he scrambled to his feet and hastily backed up - and just in time, too, for the
wall of force floor suddenly opened up in several places, dropping those slain in the arena to the Underdark sea below.
There were bemused cheers from the crowd; the drow of House Jalamir cheered the loudest, of course, but even those of opposing Houses had to acknowledge the fact that House Jalamir's slaves - all five of them - had successfully made it through both skirmishes and had even had the presence of mind to make off with some of their enemies' armor and weapons while doing so. As before, clerics of Lolth tended to the slaves' wounds as they were ushered back to their rectangular prison room.
Calish was there waiting for them. "Excellent work!" he enthused. "I cannot recall the last time a House had all five of its slaves survive the entire Festival of Blood! You have done well, all of you!" A pair of drow entered the room, bringing food and drink.
"In fact," mused the drow slavemaster, "your overwhelming success in the arena had given me some thoughts about a new line of work for you. I'll have to give this some additional thought...."
As the others grabbed up much-needed food and drink, Cramer nibbled absently at a piece of dark bread. He said nothing, but possible avenues of escape were dancing in his head. He, too, would have much to think about in the days to come.
- - -
And that was our initial adventure in this new campaign. Logan used a Pathfinder "Arena" map for the battles (it's two-sided; he used the side where the arena floor is covered in water, as that's what our PCs saw during combat) and built the other slave areas using geomorphic Dungeon Tiles.
So, the slave tattoos are going to be a bit of a problem, in that we're going to have to have access to some way to
dispel magic or something to try to get rid of them (maybe an
erase spell?) before we make our break for freedom. We'll also need to find Cramer's cleric friend, the whole reason he came to the Overreach in the first place, so we'll likely remain slaves of the drow for some time. (It only follows that eventually we'll escape, though - I can't see us all as 20th-level PCs and still unable to break free from drow servitude.)
As for the drow, Logan subverted our expectations by making Calish Jalamir an overall rather friendly sort. He's still a slavemaster and undoubtedly evil, but a friendly evil master beats, say, a fiendishly evil master with a penchant for torture at the slightest infraction. We'll have to see how it goes.
