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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 7937369" data-attributes="member: 508">ADVENTURE 11: RAIDING THE FIELDSPC Roster:Cramer Appleknocker, gnome cleric 4             Jhasspok, lizardfolk 3/barbarian 1             Khari Hammerslammer, dwarf fighter 4             Marlo Pendragon, human sorcerer 4             Utred "Buckets" Butterflinger, dwarf barbarian 4Game Session Date: 4 March 2020- - -Several days after the unsuccessful attack on House Jalamir by the forces of one of the Lesser Houses, Calish strode into the slave-quarters of his quintet of combat slaves.  "Gather around!" he commanded and the slaves were quick to obey.  You never knew with Calish Jalamir; while he often presented a pleasant demeanor, they all knew - perhaps Cramer most of all - he was quick to anger and had a heart as black as any other drow in the Underdark city."First up: Payment for a job well done!" beamed the slavemaster, handing over a pouch of slave tokens to each of the five.  "You will find a full hundred tokens each, a token of my pleasure for the way you held off the attackers and defended the North Gate.  I trust they will be put to good use in the Slave Market as time permits.""They certainly will," grinned Cramer Appleknocker, recalling 100 slave tokens could purchase the use of an actual drow slave for a full hour.  He'd availed himself of the privilege once before and looked forward to a repeat of the experience."And next, a reminder of the consequences of my displeasure," added Calish in an equally-pleasant tone of voice.  He reached back out through the entry door, taking a covered metal platter from a small table there in the hall.  The slaves frowned, wondering what they might have done to earn Calish's displeasure and how a covered dining tray might play into the matter.  But then, with a flourish, the slavemaster whipped the cover off the platter to reveal the severed head of a mind flayer - none other than N'zorthal, the House Jalamir Administer of Discipline himself.Marlo blanched as her face drained of blood.  Had Calish learned of N'zorthal's interest in the illithid book on the Dying One?  Was the slavemaster an enemy of the Dying One?  Did he know of the pact Marlo had made with the illithid Elder God - was this some sort of mental torment, to make her squirm before being physically tortured for having allied herself with an enemy of Calish?  The breath caught in her lungs.But all that worry was for naught.  "N'zorthal," Calish explained, "needed to be shown Mother's displeasure at his recent failure.""Failure?" repeated Marlo, while Khari tried to recall if he'd ever met Calish's mother, not recognizing the term as one the drow often used to describe Lolth, their Spider-Goddess.  Cramer's eyebrows raised in delight at seeing the decapitated head of N'zorthal - that was one less enemy he'd have to tend to himself before he found a way out of this drow hellhole."Perhaps N'zorthal would care to explain," replied Calish, turning back to the open doorway behind him.  As if on cue, four figures silently entered the room.  The last three were the newest of the House Jalamir slaves: Guthier, Wulfrik, and Heather, captured by the five raiders and thrown into a life of slavery via the Writhing Gate.  They spoke no words but the glares they gave said all that needed to be said: they would not soon be forgetting the ones who had cast them into this life.  But leading this troop of sullen servitors was none other than N'zorthal, the Administer of Discipline, the ring of regeneration on his finger giving silent testimony as to how he still stood among the living despite the fact Calish held his decapitated head on a silver platter.suggestions into the minds of the members of the Lesser Houses, getting them to start fights with more powerful Houses they could not possibly win.  It was a way to force their hands before they had time to better prepare for success, since their success was not a desired end-state,> N'zorthal informed the group telepathically."And your failure?" prompted Calish, covering the severed head with the lid and placing it back on the table in the hallway.<To increase the chance that my suggestions would take hold, I had to keep them open-ended and vague, which led one of the Lesser Houses to target House Jalamir for their attacks, thinking they could actually topple us and take our place.  I failed to account for the possibility that we ourselves might end up under attack; I had thought those Noble Houses beneath us would have been more logical targets.>"And one bit of fallout of the recent attack is that several of our food stores were torched in the battle," explained Calish.  "It is for this reason, and this reason alone, that you slaves have been dining upon 'meat medley' these past few days."  Left unsaid was the obvious fact the drow had ensured the food shortage hadn't affected any of them - the dark elves continued to dine upon the choicest viands while their slaves made do with makeshift scraps.Marlo, whose face had begun to regain its normal coloration as she realized Calish still knew nothing about her alliance with the Dying One, now started to turn green as she deduced just what this 'meat medley' was likely comprised of.  She swallowed the gorge that threatened to rise in her throat.  Utred and Cramer also showed signs of discomfort at the thought they'd likely been fed the flesh of the enemy combatants who had attacked the House Jalamir pillar.  But Khari and Jhasspok showed no such concerns, the dwarf because he hadn't yet figured it out and the lizardfolk because to him meat was meat."Fortunately," Calish continued, "N'zorthal has figured out a way to replenish our food supplies.  On the surface world, there is a group of farming villages that, for some reason, suffer from bandit attacks every decade or so.  You will be sent to raid several of these villages, taking what food you can; nobody should suspect anything other than they had once again been attacked by the surface bandits who already plague their homes.""Are these three coming with us?" asked Khari Hammerslammer, indicating the three new slaves."Yes, but not quite in the capacity you likely envision.  They will accompany you to the surface but remain behind to guard the Writhing Gate while you five secure the foodstuffs.  They will also be able to help you haul the goods through the Gate.  You will attack during the night, the better to ensure the Writhing Gate is not noticed, for it will remain in place on the surface during each raid, to speed the process.  Any questions?""How many villages will we be attacking?" asked Cramer."As many as it takes for you to gather a sufficient quantity of goods.  N'zorthal will let you know once that limit has been reached.  One final thing: this is a food-gathering mission only.  We already have enough mouths to feed, so there is no need to gather additional slaves at this time."  He gazed absently at the three newest slaves, as if mentally determining whether they were best left alive or if their bodies would serve Overreach better as food stock for the other slaves."How soon will we need to start our trek to the Writhing Gate?" Utred asked.<That will not be necessary.  I have discovered a way to travel quickly to the Writhing Gate.>  The mind flayer opted not to give any specifics on this new process and none of the slaves wanted to press the issue.  <Gather your weapons and armor.  We will leave at once.>Once everyone was ready, the illithid did whatever new trick he had learned and he and the eight slaves were teleported to the Writhing Gate chamber.  Reaching into a pocket of his robes, N'zorthal pulled out four familiar rings and slipped them over each of his facial tentacles, then passed their four counterparts - each on a thin chain, and each now with the tips of the four illithid appendages wriggling from the ring gates - and passed them over to Marlo, Cramer, Utred, and Khari.  The four slaves pulled the necklaces over their heads, letting the ring gates hang over their breastbones.  Once the tentacles touched the bare skin by the slaves' necks, N'zorthal had an instantaneous means of telepathic communication despite the distances that would soon be separating them.As N'zorthal took his customary seat - one of ten along the Writhing Gate - Utred looked over at Heather, the halfling paladin of Yondalla.  She had been allowed to retain her holy symbol, which hung about her neck on a silver chain, but it seemed as if the shaded portion of the cornucopia depicted on it seemed to be...writhing.  The dwarven barbarian's thick eyebrows lowered in a scowl as he puzzled at this odd phenomenon - but then the Writing Gate activated and his suspicions were instantly forgotten as the ten tentacles, which had been squirming around in a random pattern, straightened out and came to a point near the ceiling, forming a cone shape.Upon orders from the illithid, the five arena slaves turned off the illusory flames of their slave-light cloaks and all eight figures stepped forward into the Writhing Gate, to pop out just outside the first of the surface villages.  There was a marketplace just ahead, with several crates and bags of various foodstuffs piled up, no doubt ready to be shipped elsewhere in the morning.  It was dark out; looking up, Jhasspok saw the Really Big Pearl had been eaten away (by sky-acid, or so was the lizardfolk's firm belief) into a thin crescent shape, like one of the discarded toenails the gnome cleric left behind after his grooming.But that wasn't the only source of illumination; a reddish glow emanated from a series of mountains just over the horizon.  That puzzled Jhasspok, who had at first assumed it was the fireball sun just now leaving the sky, but in his (admittedly limited) experience on the surface world the Really Big Pearl didn't usually show up - at least not this high in the sky - until the fireball had already gone away.  This surface stuff was confusing!"Let's grab the goods and get out of here!" whispered Marlo, sneaking forward to do just that.  But in the dim light she hit the edge of a small crate, causing it to topple from the stack it had been perched upon and fall to the ground with a crash.  Up in a nearby watchtower, a guard spun around at the sound behind him and peered over the edge of his 15-foot-tall perch.  Thinking quickly, Utred stumbled forward, pretending to be drunk.  With any luck, the guard would think he was the one responsible for the noise: just another drunken dwarf out in the middle of the night.  (He didn't give any thought that this particular "drunken dwarf" was bristling with weapons, no doubt causing more than a little concern in the minds of any guardsmen who might see him.)  He mentally activated his slave-light cloak, causing it to blaze forth and bathe the dwarf in its radiant illumination; he had only belatedly recalled these humans didn't have darkvision like those races who lived in the Underdark.  "Hey, izzair anyplace 'round 'ere where a guy c'n get a mug o' ale?" Utred asked loudly, peering up at the guard in the watchtower.The guard's eyes bugged out at the sight of a dwarf so staggeringly drunk he didn't even know he was on fire.  He raced down the ladder of the watchtower to go aid the poor fool.  As he approached at his best speed - not all that fast, Utred noticed, for the man was much older than he'd have expected in a town's guardsman - Marlo cast an unseen servant spell from a scroll and had it start to lug away what looked to be bags of grain.  She shouldered another such bag herself, then followed the floating bag back to the Writhing Gate, where the bags were handed over to the three newer slaves to pitch into the Writhing Gate.Fortunately, Utred's drunken performance was enough to focus the guard's attention away from the marketplace pilfering going on behind him.  Khari hefted a large crate of food onto his back and lugged it over to the Writhing Gate, while Jhasspok found, to his delight, a tray of recently-caught fish and started stuffing them into the satchel he wore in which he had recently stored his own supply of food - predominantly dried dung beetles.  The goods were brought back to the Writhing Gate and transferred back to the Underdark, all while Utred led the guard away while pretending to look for an open ale shop.  The elderly guardsman had been glad to see the dwarf hadn't really been on fire, but now he was trying to get him to go back home and sleep it off - with no success, for the dwarf ignored all threats of being arrested for being drunk and disorderly.  Before long, the readily-apparent goods had been stolen away successfully and N'zorthal mentally signaled it was time to go to the next village.  Utred, receiving the call, suddenly seemed to snap out of his drunkenness and race away at top speed - far faster than the elderly guardsman could hope to catch up.  The slaves passed through the Writhing Gate and back to the Underdark.  The five tentacles that had been in place just outside the first village's marketplace were gone before the puzzled guardsman got close enough to where he'd have been able to see them if they'd still been in place.  He scratched his thinning hair, wondering where that crazy dwarf had gotten off to.  Weird!N'zorthal mentally recalibrated the targeting of the Writhing Gate and then the slaves were off to their next destination: another farming village in what must be around the same location, for the glow just over the nearby mountains was just as visible here as it had been at the previous one.  "Is that the fireball sun?" asked Jhasspok, indicating the orange light spilling from beyond the visible peaks.Cramer looked up at the sky, orienting himself by the stars.  "Nope," he answered.  "That way's north.  Likely a forest fire or something.  Volcano, even.""There aren't any volcanoes on our map," recalled Marlo, referring to the map they'd taken from the two-wagon caravan they'd attacked during their first surface raid."There's no telling the range of the Writhing Gate," Cramer replied.  "We're likely somewhere off the edges of that map - far off the edges, for all we know."<It is irrelevant,> inserted N'zorthal into the conversation.  <There is another marketplace ahead.  Gather up the food readily available.>The five arena slaves crept forth, looking for food to steal.  Now that they knew to look for one, they saw a watchtower like in the previous village; the dwarves, with their darkvision, reported it was manned by an older-looking human woman with a light crossbow.  "Again with the elderly guards," commented Marlo.  "Weird."  But, heeding the mind flayer's orders, they snuck forward into the market until they found what they'd been looking for: barrels of pickles, wheels of cheese, crates of flour and salt and sacks of oats and potatoes and turnips.  Cramer, Jhasspok, and Marlo (and her still-active unseen servant spell) started gathering, lugging, and turning the stolen goods over to Heather, Wulfrik, and Guthier, while the two dwarves stealthily circled the village, looking to take out any guardsmen on patrol.As it turned out, there was a guardsman about, patrolling on foot, and he stumbled across the others raiding the food from the market before either of the dwarves had spotted him.  But Marlo took care of that problem with a shocking grasp spell that sent the man reeling.  He fell face-first to the ground, and when Marlo turned him over to make sure he was still alive (she hadn't tried to kill him, merely knock him out), she was both pleased to see he was still breathing but somewhat surprised to see he was easily as old - if not older - as her own grandfather.  What was with all the elderly guards?Jhasspok decided to take out the guardswoman on duty at the watchtower, which would then give the slaves all the time they needed to strip the village bare of the food they wanted.  Speeding forward with his tail held out straight behind him as a counterbalance, he practically leapt up the ladder and was standing on the platform with the surprised guard before she had had time to turn around and face him.  "Drop your weapons and you live!" hissed the lizardfolk, his battleaxe raised to strike a blow if she failed to comply.She failed to comply.  Instead, screaming in terror at the dinosaur-monster in front of her, she tried raising her crossbow but Jhasspok brought his axe-head down on her.  The blow failed to drop her, but she staggered back and leaned heavily on the back railing, her weapon dangling by one hand, her wounded arm no longer able to bring it to bear.  But alerted by her scream, Marlo dropped the guardswoman with a magic missile spell.  From his high vantage point, Jhasspok scanned the area and saw nobody else about, so he scampered back down and helped the others load the rest of the goods through the Writhing Gate.  Then, like before, they all returned to the Underdark.N'zorthal examined the pile of goods stacked up against the stone wall of the Writhing Gate's permanent Underdark location.  <One more village will likely suffice for now,> he advised the slaves, retargeting the illithid teleportation structure to its next location.Things turned out quite differently in this third village, however.  For one thing, as five tentacles of the Writhing Gate manifested just outside this latest marketplace, there was a guard standing right there, mere paces away.  Fortunately, her back was turned to the Writhing Gate and her attention was focused upon a robed figure standing before her, but he saw the tentacles - and eight slaves - suddenly manifest behind her.  His eyes widened in surprise and fear.Utred stepped forward, deciding he'd try his drunken act again.  "Hey!" he called to the guardswoman as he stepped up beside her.  "There a tavern open 'round here?  I needs me some ale!""You--you just stepped out of tentacles!" sputtered the robed figure.  The guardswoman spun and looked in awe at the five waving tentacles that must have just erupted from the ground.  She gave a wordless gasp of terror."Tavern?" repeated Utred, hoping to capture her attention.  But she ignored him; instead, she raced to the center of the town and threw a smokestick at the ground before her.  A column of thick, blue smoke rose up into the sky.  Realizing this was likely a signal for reinforcements, the arena slaves all decided they'd have to forego stealth this time and fight off the guards before they'd be able to successfully make off with the food they'd come to steal.  Marlo began by firing a magic missile spell at the robed figure standing beside Utred; she wasn't sure what his deal was - he wasn't dressed in the same armor as the guards - but robes like that usually meant a spellcaster and Marlo knew quite well the variety of spells that might be available to an enemy spellcaster.  Better to take him out quick.Her spell didn't quite do the trick - it hit him square on, eliciting a grunt of pain and pulling his focus away from the Writhing Gate - but then Khari raced up and  brought him down with a quick strike with his dwarven warhammer.  The robed figure fell to the ground, dead.Alas, there were more of these robed figures about.  Another one stepped out from the shadows behind a building and tossed a pair of lesser fire orbs at the two gathered dwarves.  Seeing the flaming spheres racing their way, both Utred and Khari had time to dodge successfully and the spell-spheres exploded harmlessly far behind them.Seeing no other combatants for the moment from their vantage point - for the elderly guardswoman who had activated the smokestick had subsequently run to a wooden building, stepped through a doorway, and slammed the door shut behind her - Jhasspok and Marlo began grabbing up the crates and bags assembled in a pile before them.  They were suddenly accosted by another robed figure.  "What are you doing?" he hissed.  "You're not supposed to raid the place until tomorrow!""Um--what?" sputtered Marlo."Tomorrow, you idiots!  The ritual isn't until tomorrow!"Marlo had no idea what he was talking about, so she responded by casting a scorching ray at him but missed; the figure retaliated with the same spell, his aimed at the hulking lizardfolk.  His spell struck Jhasspok straight on, causing a hiss of pain to erupt from the lizard's throat.Cramer cast a sound burst spell at the offending spellcaster, stunning him momentarily into motionlessness.  Utred then charged at the figure, felling him with one strike of his Elderwood flaming longsword.  However, another robed figure stepped forward to take the place of his fallen companion.  Marlo, by this time, had gone back to the primary mission, dragging a heavy sack of oats back towards the Writhing Gate while her unseen servant did likewise with a smaller bag of potatoes.  Beside her, Khari hefted a wooden crate bigger than he was onto his shoulder and started lugging it back to the Writhing Gate.And then yet another figure seemingly stepped forward from the shadows.  She wore armor, but unlike the other guards the slaves had encountered thus far this night she was not at all elderly; quite the opposite, she seemed to have seen no more than two dozen summers.  She tilted her head quizzically at Utred, her brow furrowed in confusion.Jhasspok attacked the remaining spellcaster, getting in a good hit with his magically-enhanced battleaxe.  Utred charged the beautiful young guardswoman, bringing his sword in for a lateral strike to her breastbone.  The woman just stood there, a smirk on her face as the green-flamed blade struck true, smashing into the exposed skin just below her neck - and had no effect whatsoever.  As the dwarven barbarian's face gaped in confusion, the armored woman released her true form.  In an instant, a pair of batlike wings had erupted from her back and with a mere flick of them she was airborne.  A barbed whip made of reddish leather unfurled at her side, draping down almost to the ground.  Then, with controlled snaps of her arm and wrist, she sent the barbed devilhide whip flashing out at Utred, carving twin lines of pain across his face.  Blood dripped down his face and in his vision as he let loose the rage that had built up immediately at the touch of the infernal weapon's twin strikes.Cramer advanced on the spellcaster walking unhurriedly towards Jhasspok, but before the gnome could get off a spell the robed figure took a step back from the lizardfolk and cast a burning hands spell encompassing both Jhasspok and Cramer.  They winced at the momentary pain and from above, the winged warrior woman looked down at them, intrigued at the battle going on below her.<That is a succubus!> called N'zorthal to the four slaves wearing the ring gate necklaces.  <Grab up what you can and retreat - it's not worth facing off against a demon!>  Mastering the rage that had built up inside him and was ready for release, Utred high-tailed it back toward the Writhing Gate at top speed - which wasn't, it turned out, fast enough to avoid a final snap of the devil-whip across his broad back.The succubus frowned in confusion.  For whatever reason, her inherent telepathy wasn't able to pierce the thoughts of the five strangers; there must be some type of shielding magic in place, she mused.  However, the cultist's thoughts were like an open book before her: he was hoping to recruit a few more sacrifices for some ritual involving a burning gate of some type.  Her whip struck out again, this time against the cultist.Jhasspok looked up and saw the succubus strike the robed human with her oddly-spiked whip of red leather.  Taking comfort that she was on the side of good - one of those "sky-fish" that Utred had explained about when describing T'Puuli Tine's celestial father to the lizardfolk, no doubt - he helped her slay her foe by bringing his battleaxe crashing down upon the cultist, followed immediately by a bite to the throat.  That last one did it - the cultist didn't last long after having his throat ripped out.The succubus looked down at the five intruders, dragging stolen goods from the marketplace.  "Cease your actions!" she called to the mind-shielded thieves.  "I would have an explanation as to what you are doing in this kingdom!"Spurred on by N'zorthal's telepathic commands to retreat, the slaves ignored her and ran with their various plundered foodstuffs to the Writhing Gate, racing full-speed between the tentacles and disappearing from view.  Unseen behind them, the succubus screamed in pain, grabbed her head in both hands (dropping the barbed devilhide whip in the process), and fell to the ground as the Writhing Gate disappeared from existence.  Overcome by the overwhelming sense of evil emanating from the illithid transportation system - and an accidental, momentary telepathic contact with the Dying One - Serenity's last thought before passing out was, "So that's what Galen must have felt...."Back at the Writhing Gate's Underdark home location, N'zorthal stood up from his station, signaling the slaves' excursions were finished for the night.  Behind him, the ten tentacles collapsed from their forced cone shape and started wiggling around independently once again.  At each of the other nine stations sat the petrified remains of a mind flayer.  <That was quite unexpected,> N'zorthal admitted.  <The last time House Jalamir raided Ashfall, they did not have a guardian demon watching over the place.>  He looked over the evening's take, piled onto the cart the arena slaves had taken from a previous raiding mission and ready to be pulled by the animated skeleton of a horse they had likewise captured.  A moment later, the Writhing Gate chamber was empty save for the mind flayer and his nine petrified kin.- - -I knew immediately our PCs were in Ashfall when I heard about the light from the north (making the mountain range a part of the Baator's Breath Mountains) and the advanced age of the guardsmen (because all able-bodied men were up in the mountains fighting off demon excursions); furthermore, I also realized this meant this entire campaign was not only taking place in the same game world as our previous one (as Logan had told us up front it was going to be) but also during the same time frame as well!  The comment about the upcoming "burning gate" ritual sealed the deal: this adventure took place just before the one in "The Durnhill Conscripts" where our PCs fought off the Cult of the Burning Gate (where, for those who have read the exploits of the previous campaign, my PC Syngaard was treacherously reduced in size by half due to the evil machinations of the halfling rogue PC, Orion - played by Vicki, who runs Marlo in this campaign).  Logan even pointed out, after the fact, that this adventure title, "Raiding the Fields," was a play on "Playing the Fields," an adventure in the Durnhill campaign.So, this opens up some interesting possibilities.  Three of the Durnhill PCs were involved in every adventure of the campaign, but Orion and Daleth (played by Joey, who now runs Utred Butterflinger) were frequent no-shows in the earlier adventures, so it's entirely possible we might meet up with them at some point during this campaign without contradicting anything from the previous campaign.  And it's further evidence fueling our belief that the "metal man from Hell" we might need to rescue to help defeat the Dying One is none other than Alexandros, the Mithral Mage, one of our recurring foes in the Durnhill campaign.Of course, Logan's probably put too much faith in our ability not to metagame with the knowledge our previous PCs knew when we run these current PCs.  We were all well aware our PCs were fighting Serenity the succubus there at the end.  Hopefully he'll take our prior knowledge into account.</blockquote>

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