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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2165905" data-attributes="member: 143">When I first read this module, I thought, "Do they expect all the bad guys to just sit there while the adventurers go room to room?" You can get away with some by explaining that the Cagewrights are all... well, nuts, but I think that the module should wipe out your average 17th level party of four if the bad guys are played with the intelligence that they possess. As we saw earlier, the HoC would have been ground beef if the Travelers hadn't shown up when they did, and that was an encounter that only used about 1/3 of the total resources of the Cagewrights in their stronghold. As we'll see, even an eight-member party is going to have some real problems...* * * * * Chapter 367Shebeleth Regidin could not help but feel a sudden twist in his gut as he stepped into the huge underground chamber.  In the last twenty years he’d passed through trials that had forever changed him, such that emotion, at least as normal mortals experienced it, had been all but burned out of him.  But this place still had the power to affect him.  How could it not, he thought, staring up at the culmination of the Cagewrights’ efforts.  The Tree of Shackled Souls was a dark shadow of black lines and ugly angles, despite the surrounding illumination.  Strands of coruscating energy formed and unformed around the boughs of the tree, a flickering halo of violent surges of black and gray that were utterly and coldly silent. “It is beautiful, is it not,” came a voice from the left. Regidin turned as the hulking bulk of Dyr’ryd materialized from the shadows.  In the pulsating light from the lava flows that crisscrossed the floor of the chamber, the shator’s bloated and layered flesh appeared lurid and sickly.  But the monstrous demodand also shone with the glow of power, a power attenuated to its fullest expression in this place, at this time.  One massive hand was encased in a steel gauntlet, and it carried an equally huge guisarme with a blue-tinged steel blade that eagerly flashed in the ruddy light of the chamber.  There was a growth that bulged from the side of its head like a cancer, a horror in its own right, for that misshapen form was the residence of the second of the two personalities that dwelled within the hulking form of the fiend.  An aberration twice over, the foul leader of the Cagewrights likewise shared the peculiar madness that had driven each of the Thirteen to this conclusion. Regidin, familiar with the mannerisms of the demodand, waited until the two entities had acknowledged him and settled out the inner hierarchy through which they would deal with him.  It was the mouth of the shator that spoke next, although the tiny symbiant—parasite?—seemed to be watching him intently. “The intruders draw near.”  “Yes. They have battered through our outer defenses, including Gau and Coalfire’s mercenaries.”“And your two recruited allies.”Regidin shrugged.  “They gave their best for the cause.  The Heroes of Cauldron have been reinforced by a new cohort of powerful interlopers, with potent allies at their call.”The tiny Ryd symbiant chortled.  “We knew that she had powerful friends, yes, yes.  Gave them a nice invitation, we did.”The slight twist to Regidin’s lips might have been a frown.  “She was the key.  What was done, was what had to be done.”The huge demodand’s jaws smacked noisily.  “The ritual of planar binding is not yet complete.  The Tree must be defended, at all costs.”Regidin nodded.  “I am already gathering our remaining forces to destroy the intruders.  Thearynn is not allowing himself to be found, but I have collected the rest of the Thirteen, and the few demodands left to us.  Unfortunately, the ritual is interfering with our ability to draw more allies from Carceri.”“Defend the Tree,” the shator repeated.  “Soon, soon the gate will be secure, and then this place will become one with the prison plane.  Then, the Master will be free, and our rewards will be great…”  Ryd chuckled, a terrible sound as the shator finished speaking. Regidin did not comment. “Go,” Dyr’ryd said, both mouths speaking in unison.  “We will remain with the artifact, and guide the ritual to its conclusion.  Go.”Regidin offered no farewell, merely turned and departed. * * * * *“You will listen and mark my words, fiends,” Freija Doorgan said, her words like knives in the relatively narrow confines of the passageway.  Her fury was fueled not only by her still-fresh humiliation at the hands of the enemy adventurers, but by the terrible stench given off by the demodands crammed with her into the cramped space.  Her wounds had been healed by Grehlia Cairnis, who stood now a few paces away, watching her with bright eyes that shone like twin orbs of cut ice.  No doubt that tiefling bitch Webb was somewhere nearby; the monk hadn’t let Freija out of her sight since they’d parted with Wiejeron not more than fifteen minutes ago.  The conjurer poured her fury out against the demodands, who wisely knew better than to rise to the challenge.  Even Regidin’s pet shator, a miserable beast named Keeriv, said nothing as she laid down her commands.  Regidin had ordered all of the remaining demodands to obey her before he’d left to meet with Dyr’ryd, true, but all of the fiends had considerable egos and only seemed to follow the orders of the Thirteen when it suited them. Or when a furious wizardess with a prismatic spray at the ready was raging at them. “There will be no fogs, no acid clouds, this time.  You will remain invisible until our signal, and then assault the enemy with acid arrows and rays of enfeeblement.  You kelubars will target the spellcasters.  Farastus will weaken the warriors.  Now, is that simple enough for your feeble brains to grasp?”Keeriv rumbled, a sound like an avalanche erupting from deep within its huge body.  “And how do I fit into your plans, conjurer?”Freija’s eyes narrowed, as she sifted through the comment for insult.  “You, my dear shator, you will destroy their celestial ally.”  Her lips tightened into a dark smile.  “And once he is gone, then you may have your way with whichever of the enemy remains.”The shator nodded, its own monstrous mouth twisting into a smile at the anticipation of unleashing destruction.  Of course, if it had known the entirety of what Freija Doorgan had planned, it might have been less amused.</blockquote>

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