Dalan
First Post
Volume I: Ratslayer
…finally, forced to flee from the main doors, nearly dead and in poor spirits, we retreated to the base of the path to retrieve our mounts and pack animals. Naturally, they were no longer there. Naught but some small bloodstains and stray owlbear feathers gave evidence of there ever having been anything there at all.
Defeated, I waited for Nawoom to set up his tent; my own, like most of my equipment, was on my horse. I had not the priest's immense strength to carry all manner of gear with me at all times. Once the tent was assembled, I bade my fellows good evening and went to sleep.
15th Nightal
I know not when – or if the others rested, but I slept until dawn, not feeling much better than I had the night before. My injuries were still grievous, and at least one arrowhead was still lodged in my shoulder. I saw Saren and Nawoom praying to Tymora, and slowly moved off to get a good view of the sunrise. While the priest prayed for his spells, I silently called to Lathander for guidance. I know not if He spoke to me, but at the end of the hour, I was filled with resolve; the orc scum of the Glitterhame would pay dearly for my fallen companions’ lives. While Nawoom healed the group, I packed up his tent to ensure a quick start. After reminding the rest of the group how long and tiring the journey back to the fort would be on foot, I started up the mountain, determined to find the source of the smoke that had been constantly billowing from somewhere above us.
The deep midwinter snow slowed our movement – waiting on the heavily armoured priest slowed us even more. While we frequently lost sight of the plume, I never doubted which way we needed to go – I could have pointed to the source of the smoke without hesitation at any time during our climb. Thinking back now, I am certain that Lathander was with me this morning.
Eventually, our trek led us to a massive natural chimney far up the back of the mountain. After a great deal of planning, Tanzi tested a nearby tree for strength (Lathander's blessings continued that day, for us to find a convenient tree so far beyond the treeline was surely the act of a god) and we sent Saren down the chimney on Nawoom's rope. I followed shortly after Saren, and though my zeal nearly cost me my grip, I caught up with the lunatic quickly. The Moon
e was waiting at the very bottom of the chimney, over a massive bed of coals, waiting to see if he should use the pack full of snow or not. Not wanting to make more noise than absolutely needed, I gestured for him to peek into the chamber below and see if we might not be able to swing to one side of the coals instead. Saren decided that the best way to do this was by inverting himself within the chimney and using his feet to slowly descend the rope, into the chamber. After determining that nothing was about to eat him, he dropped the remaining length of the rope to see how much excess there was. After extinguishing its now smouldering end, Saren cut the last few feet of the rope off and swung off to the side. Not happy at the thought of losing sight of the group's madman, I quickly lowered myself out of the chimney and flipped to one side of the coalbed. Not unexpectedly, Saren was no where to be seen. Thankfully, he was simply well-hidden against the nearby wall, and not wandering down some tunnel.
After the two of us were safely down, Nawoom began lowering his equipment and armour down the shaft. While I did approve the large priest's plan to separate himself from his heavy gear for the descent, my feet are still somewhat sore from having to rescue his pack and mail from their place above the coals. As for what happened next, I blame myself. I should never have mentioned how hot Nawoom's armour had become where Saren could hear me; once the idea of putting the pack full of snow onto the hot armour occurred to him, there wasn't really much chance of him leaving well enough alone. This meant that by the time Tanzi made it into the cavern, Nawoom was off in the corner putting on his armour while Saren and I discussed the wisdom of making that much noise after successfully sneaking into the orcs’ kitchen.
As it turned out, I was right. The loud hissing gained us a crowd, and earned me a javelin in the shoulder. (I swear, I could go the rest of my life without ever having a projectile weapon stuck in my shoulder and die a happy man.) With Nawoom off in the corner, mucking about with his overly complicated armour, the rest of us had no decent light source, so Saren lit a torch and dropped it in the corridor from which the first orc had come, presumably planning to fight by its light. Being Saren though, he didn't bother retreating when it promptly went out, and judging by the scream a moment later, I'd say that the orcs had no trouble seeing him. Hearing his parishioner in mortal danger yet again, Nawoom Tior stopped fumbling with his greaves long enough to helpfully place his bullseye lantern at the end of the corridor so that the rest of the group could get put an end to rest of the orcs investigative group. Safe for the moment (at least from everyone who wasn't part of the group), I went back into the kitchen to help Nawoom put on his armour. Saren had decided that more than anything else, what he really needed was one of the orcs' greataxes, which meant that Nawoom was going to have to hold a lantern instead of his shield since everyone else in the group was wielding two-handed weapons.
Much to my surprise, our scouting did not turn up any more orcs. After a few minutes exploration, we found a vast storeroom, full of stolen caravan goods that the orcs did not seem to feel held much value. While I moved through the mess looking for an ambush, Saren decided to commence looting. Instead of valuables, he discovered a blocked off passage into a small chamber. The north side of the chamber had a massive metal gate, and the spaces between the bars had been completely filled with cloths and blankets of all sorts. It was obvious to me that whatever lived beyond that gate was best left alone. Nawoom, of course, seemingly forgetting all the excitement his fascination with the Glowing Ball of Obvious Evil caused back in the Sunless Citadel, decided that we should make every effort to discover just what the orcs were so scared of. After I dissuaded his interest in engaging in reckless and dangerous behaviour, Nawoom went back to happily banging on the strongbox he had found in the storeroom outside. Saren, surprisingly enough, had used this time constructively, and had moved several of the crates back into position, so that from the storeroom, it would hopefully seem as though everything was just as it had been. Initially I wondered at the idea of blocking ourselves into this room when there was still much exploring to be done and a great deal of vengeance to be had. I had not counted on Nawoom being completely drained of divine power already though; once I realised that he wouldn't be able to put Saren together again (at least until tomorrow), holing up in this easily defensible room seemed best.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
16th Nightal
Going to have to keep today’s entry short — the blood loss is making it hard to write.
For some reason, I actually let my curiosity get the better of me this morning, and told Nawoom that he could go ahead and open up a hole in the rag wall. He ripped open a small gap like a child with a present, and cast a light spell so that he could see the other side. When nothing immediately attacked, he removed more of the padding and Tanzi bent the bars apart as though the steel was little more than soft lead. I hoped over the crossbar, and Tanzi managed to climb it easily enough, but Tior I think would have had trouble if it had been only a foot off the ground, rather than three. Once we were all together in the massive dwarven hall, Saren began poking around at the charred orc skeletons.
After those first few moments of calm though, my day really went to hell. It seems that I had been more prophetic than paranoid when I told the priest that the orcs had obviously been scared of something that would fit between the bars of the gate; an ominous buzzing sound was heard only long enough to get everyone worried before the damnable stirges attacked us. I managed to injure one as it approached me, but they must have been starved, as it, and a second, both plunged their sharp beaks deep into my flesh. I pulled one from my throat and tossed it away from me, but the second was on my back where I could not reach it. I remember something heavy falling on my back before I finally passed out from the pain.
When I awoke, my wounds gone, Saren and Tanzi both looked almost as bad as I felt — the bloodsuckers had left me weak and dizzy and all I really felt up to doing was encouraging Saren to hurry up and shoot the demonic little beastie as it perched up near the ceiling, digesting its horrific meal.
Once Saren’s arrows had popped the last of the stirges like a giant mosquito, Tanzi lead us all to the door at the far end of the room. Not really feeling up to a fight just now, I hung back a bit while the others flanked the door. Finding the stone door both locked, and most likely impervious to her once-preferred method of opening doors, Tanzi simply led us to the opposite end of the room. Not liking the look of the angry dwarven face carved into this door, I again hung back from the others as they flanked Tanzi and the doorway. I should have stayed much farther away from them.
The only thing I really managed to notice before the liquid fire stole my consciousness was Nawoom Tior, somehow managing to dive clear of the sheet of flame that poured from the entire eastern wall of the hall. Perhaps happily, I passed out too quickly to really experience the worst of the burning. I woke up seconds later though, still on fire, with Tior trying to lay his hands on my body without igniting his own clothes in the process. After some rather painful efforts, I managed to extinguish the alchemists’ fire, and went to help Nawoom put out Tanzi. Seeing that Tanzi was not about to expire, the priest moved to keep Saren alive while the fire burned itself out.
I think that if I ever make it out of this gods-forsaken fortress, I may just go back to Eveningstar and spend the rest of my life quietly in the monastery. At the very least, I’m going to just shave my head at all times from now on — I’m on fire much too often for it to ever get much longer than stubble anyhow.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
17th Nightal
The next day, after some discussion, we decided that before we wandered any deeper into Kundrukar, we ought to finish exploring the caverns behind us to ensure that we hadn’t missed anything either important or dangerous. Besides that, I knew that the orcs who’d killed Belmar and Meepo were still alive and that they were somewhere in those caverns. Once the crates were again moved away from the narrow opening, we crossed the store room and headed back toward where we started.
Since we hadn’t been afraid for our lives for almost five minutes by this point, the priest got bored and decided that the quickest way to remedy the situation was to cast light on my face. With this blinding light in my face I couldn’t decide if I should be angry at Nawoom, worried about permanent damage to my eyes, or scared of getting killed by whatever evil beastie decided that my very bright face made a very good target.
While I worried about my now-impending doom, Saren apparently wandered back to the store room to find something. All I know for sure is that after a few seconds, I heard one hell of a loud clatter. I’m not sure if he found what he was looking for, but shortly after Saren came back, we could all hear orcs investigating the storeroom. Since even Saren and Nawoom realised that getting found by a large group of orcs while I was glowing like a bonfire and unable to fight would be bad, we crept up the hallway into the kitchen.
While I hid in the corner and Saren smeared some sort of gooey crap on my face to try and dim the light, the orcs sent a scout to look for us. I’m not clear on just what happened, but it seems someone tried to prevent the scout from giving us away and failed. I heard a hail of javelins clattering against the walls and floor before someone told us demanded our surrender.
Unfortunately, while trying to stall for time and generally confuse the barbaric simpletons, we may have given them the impression that there wasn’t anyone who’d be much interested in paying for our release. Since I wasn’t going to be much use in my current state, I let Saren and Nawoom do the planning. Not surprisingly, the plan involved the excessive use of fire.
By the time they got everything ready though, at least some of the orcs had become bored and wandered away from the tunnel. From what little I could see, there was next to no opposition until we reached the crossroads, where some manner of spellcaster sent Tanzi running off into the darkness, screaming her head off. After a bit more blurry motion and clanging steel, Saren pushed me out of his way – I think an orc had snuck through the narrow side passage to try and get behind us. While I bumped into a couple of walls that I couldn’t really make out, Nawoom splattered orcs left and right and eventually shouted something about the sorceress running away on him. I was too busy being distraught about my blindness to point out that that was probably a good thing.
About the same time as Saren and Tior killed the last of the orcs, Tanzi, presumably recovered from whatever magical fear had afflicted her, returned with tales of a possible exit. She wanted to give up on the plan to get back to our campsite and try to make it out of the fortress altogether. The rest of us considered it, but the desire to stick with the plan for once, combined with the uncertainty of what lay between us and this distant door convinced everyone that we’d be best off continuing to our previous night’s camp.
After a few moments’ hushed discussion, we were ready to try and get across the storeroom to the hidden crevasse and into our defensible camp room. As Saren and Nawoom jockeyed for lead position, I silently prayed to Lathander for the idiot priest’s light spell to just go away already. I’d like to believe that my prayer was answered, but it seems that the far-too-easily bored cleric had just forgotten about it since the spell ended just as soon as he told it to.
As we tried our best to quietly move across the storeroom without attracting attention to ourselves, Saren decided it might be a good idea to use the lantern to see if anyone else was in the room with us. I used to think the villagers in Eveningstar were being foolish when they said ignorance is bliss, but I was certainly happier before I saw Ulfe and his minions calmly waiting for us.
Nawoom and I moved to keep Ulfe away from the entrance to our camp while the orcs and Ulfe’s pet wolves charged Tanzi and Saren. Ulfe himself came running right up to me and started swinging that enormous axe. I don’t know if the light from Saren’s lantern was throwing off his aim, or my nervous banter had him too angry to swing straight, but I was glad that he was taking chunks out of the stone floor instead of me. Tanzi was making short work of those few orcs she could get at, but Nawoom was almost totally ineffectual against Ulfe, and Saren was getting mauled by the wolves, so I decided that it might be best if I distracted Ulfe a bit.
I quickly moved behind him, using the well edge as a pivot point for my backflip and smacked him square in the back with the magical morningstar that Nawoom had loaned me after my chain melted the day before. I guess I was still weak from the blood loss though, because the last thing I remember seeing after my sudden bout of dizziness passed was an axe bigger than my torso as it split my chest wide open.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
18th Nightal
When I woke up in the campsite this morning, the first thing I saw was Saren cleaning blood (presumably mine) off Ulfe’s giant axe. I’m so very glad that he’s decided that objects from my nightmares will make for good trophies. Nawoom told me that after taking care of the orcs, Tanzi helped him put Ulfe down while Saren fought the wolves. Judging by the damage to his armour, Ulfe must have damned near taken Nawoom with him. He’s mostly annoyed about some orc who was throwing axes at him though.
It seems that the others are planning to stay put for another day or so, and I’m not going to argue.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
19th Nightal
Feeling a little better, we resumed our efforts to explore the caverns.
We found an orc-built wooden door, and heard someone making noise behind it. A quick look at the floor allowed me to determine that the door didn’t get opened much, and would probably be quite loud and attract a fair bit of attention once it was.
We left it behind for the time being to try and find the exit Tanzi had seen two days earlier. The large stone doors looked quite familiar, and once it was determined safe enough, we pushed it open. We’d found our way back to the chasm that had taken Balmor’s life. Since the bridge was still out, we headed back up to the wooden door; after paying our respects. Finding the door locked, I let Saren go ahead and try to trick the inhabitants into letting us in. The only thing we heard was more muffled struggling. After the priest and I agreed that it sounded like someone trying to shout through a gag, Tanzi and Nawoom charged the door as one and more or less obliterated it.
Once we freed and fed the two halfling prisoners, I managed to calm them down and convince them that, appearances and behaviour aside, none of my companions had any interest in harming them. Reassured that we really were rescuing them, the halflings told us that they were taken prisoner when their caravan was raided and had been left to rot in the cage while the orcs waited to see if anyone was interested in paying for them.
With charges in tow, our explorations were now focused mainly on finding a way out of the orcs’ lair so that we could return them to civilization. Since the caverns had been explored, we headed for the hallway at the far end of the storage room. At one end we found a short staircase leading to a door and another door just before the hall ended with a large statue of a dwarf. Apparently oblivious to what happened last time we mucked about with things with carved dwarven images, Saren happily waltzed right up to the statue, and set off some sort of gas trap. It didn’t seem to do anything to him the first time, but the gas didn’t look at all healthy. I guess he forgot to hold his breath the second time though, because after the second burst of green vapour flowed from the statue, our resident loon looked quite ill. Since Saren was done playing with dangerous statuary, we opened the door and moved into what seemed like a pretty disgusting bunkroom. Tanzi and Saren went into looter mode while I kept watch on Nawoom to make sure he didn’t threaten to eat the halflings.
Still hoping to find a way out, or at least the room with the arrowslits, we carefully approached the door at the top of the stairs. It seems that the human skull that was nailed to the door was just Ulfe’s way of saying “No Admittance” and not a warning of deadly traps ahead. After seeing the state of the ogre’s room, we were no longer surprised by his horrid stench. If you’re not smart enough to disregard your own feces, can you really be considered to be more than an animal?
Having still not found an exit, we decided we’d have to head back into the dungeon and check the far end of the hall. We didn’t have to go far before finding a second bunkroom, not significantly different from the first.
With all the halls and tunnels and rooms in the orc’s lair searched – and surprisingly empty since at least two of the orcs had escaped alive – we had no choice but to return to the room with the stairs and the fire trap. After Tanzi again bent the bars apart, we all climbed through. Worried more about one of them setting it off than about lighting them on fire, I made certain that everyone stayed well away from the dwarf-faced door as I desperately searched for the triggering mechanism, or at least the openings that the alchemist’s fire had blasted out of. Unable to find anything, and having neither the skill nor equipment nor strength to open the other door, we had no choice but to go deeper into the Glitterhame in our efforts to get out of it.
After descending deeper into the mountain for a few minutes, we discovered an underground stream that had cut into the rough stairwell. It wasn’t very wide, or very deep, but it was very cold, and quite fast. We managed to get across just before the stirges attacked.
I’m really, really starting to dislike stirges.
This lower level seems to be mostly vast caverns and cold, fast, deep streams. The stairs led into the first of several such caverns. After looking around for a few moments (made a lot easier by the bits of phosphorescent moss growing on the walls and ceilings), I decided to investigate the small shelf on the wall just above the point that the stream entered the wall. While I didn’t find any stashes of gold to donate to Lathander, I did discover that some sort of three-toed bipeds were crawling through the opening fairly frequently. Curiosity satisfied, I encouraged everyone to jump across the stream so that we could continue our search for a way out. Tanzi and Saren both made the jump without too much difficulty, but Nawoom the Turtle Priest, unsurprisingly, managed to jump only a few feet, and landed squarely in the centre of the water. Saren dove into the water before anyone had time to tell him what getting that cold can do to a person. While Saren fought the current, Tanzi simply reached down and hauled Nawoom out of the water with a single lift. Once Saren climbed out of the river and began stripping his soaked clothing off, I encouraged the halfling merchants to take running jumps across the river. I suppose that wasn’t really the best idea though, since Geradil didn’t get much further than Nawoom. Saren, somehow still able to function while turning blue, dove back in to save the little guy while Courana quailed at the sight of her husband floating downstream. Once Geradil was returned to dry land, I acquiesced to the halfling-tossing plan that the others had suggested earlier. I really had expected the merchants to be able to jump better than an armour-plated, overweight priest though. Once Courana was across, thankfully without any serious injury, I was the only one left. The massive blood loss that the stirges had inflicted on me chose the final step of my run up to cause me to nearly faint – I suppose there would have been more inopportune moments to collapse, but I doubt that most of them would have been as embarrassing as that.
Finally beyond the accursed streams, we began exploring the caverns. By this point, the rest of the party seemed to have forgotten about our goal of getting the halflings home to Blaisingdell – every time I tried to point out that getting ourselves killed by doing something stupid would be a bad thing, they began to make “coward” comments. At me. The hero of this little group of lunatics and loot seekers. So I wasn’t really surprised when Tanzi insisted on looting the dwarven tombs we found, despite the warning about Moradin’s curse befalling desecraters.
I have to admit though; the chain she found me is a thing of beauty. Courana read enough of the dwarven runes on it to tell me that it has the entire story of the Forge of Fury written on its links. I’m going to have to spend some time trying to decipher the whole thing next time we have some significant downtime. For now I’ll simply have to accept using it to remove the orc scum from these dwarven halls.
Not far from the tomb, we found yet another underground stream. This one was much bigger and moving much faster though. A quick investigation proved that the roaring sound we’d heard was in fact a waterfall, just as we had thought. It’s really too bad that we hadn’t made more of an effort to look at the rest of the cavern though – we might have noticed how slippery the rock near the water was before we started sliding down it. I’ll just have to look on the bright side – I can add going over a waterfall to the list of things I’ve survived…
After recovering Courana – and my new chain – we returned to main cavern and began following the path through the fungal forest, toward the steel door we’d seen from the vantage point of the tomb area. While we didn’t get attacked by anything hiding between the giant mushrooms (yet) – Saren and Nawoom did manage to attract the attention of some sort of tentacled monsters that were hiding on top of a ledge that the path went right next to.
My attempts to free Saren from the mass of tentacles that were wrapped around his head were thwarted when a third set attacked me and began hauling me up into the air while choking out what life was left in me. Before I passed out, I saw Raven and some elf come wandering out of the mushroom forest. When I woke up a little later, on the ground at Tanzi’s feet, Saren was busy trying to pick a fight with the new guy.
No longer all that interested in the door, or much of anything else for that matter, we fell back to the hall between this room and the river to make camp. While this new druid fellow went off to gather some edible mushroom, Raven explained something about a cursed ring that takes him to the Shadow plane and then back to normal reality at random times. I wonder if it will always bring him to where the rest of us are?
— Dalan Ratslayer —
20th Nightal
Today, I mostly just laid around and regretted having ever left Eveningstar. Still, that magic Nawoom used on me has me feeling a lot better. If he does that once or twice more, no one would be able to tell I’d ever been bitten by any stirges.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
21st Nightal
We had a considerably more productive day today. Since no one really wanted to face those tentacled beasts again (although there was some talk of using Nawoom and / or Saren as bait and then pulling them off the ledge so we could attack them more effectively), we headed off to the other exit from the main chamber.
After wandering through the narrow, winding caverns for a short while, we found a large room. Since I was at the back guarding the merchants, I didn’t actually see what happened, but it seems that Saren once again touched something he shouldn’t have, because when I went to see what all the shouting was about, Saren was laying on the ground convulsing and looking decidedly yellow.
The cleric and the druid did what little they could for him – which apparently is the only reason he’s still alive – and we moved on, redoubling our efforts to find a way out of this accursed dungeon.
Shortly after that, I finally discovered the creatures that had left the tracks I found a few days ago. Some manner of humanoid lizards, they seemed very surprised to see so many surface dwellers wandering around their cave. Hoping to take them down quickly, I shouted for Tanzi to take the one on the left while I charged towards the one on the right.
After a short battle, the enemies lay dead on the ground, trapped (along with half the party) by some sort of spell that Tharivol had cast on the area. Once the roots stopped hindering everyone’s movement, our new party member decided to free a captive brown bear from its cage. At least he calmed it down before setting it loose.
Having finally found an exit, we happily left the darkness of the cave – only to find the darkness of the pre-dawn morning waiting for us on the surface. With Saren still in bad shape, and liable to die at any time (according to Tharivol, who says that Saren’s been infected by something called yellow mould) we debated about what was riskier – staying put until dawn or marching down the mountain in the dark. The debate was settled when Tharivol noticed a great many footprints in the tunnel entrance; if we stayed where we were, we’d spend the rest of the night fighting troglodytes.
Once we determined that we’d have to circle the entire mountain before we could head back down to High Horn, Tharivol began picking a reasonably easy path — although it was probably easier for him, what with not sinking into the snow at all. Shortly after the sun crested the horizon, I spotted a shallow cave just ahead, and pointed it out to our new member, who went off across the snowpack to see if it would make a suitable shelter to warm Saren up in.
The moment she saw the elf flying through the air away from the cave (or possibly after she heard the roar), Tanzi’s entire face brightened as she drew her greatsword and happily ran to the cavemouth. With the entire party (save for Saren, whose unconscious body was slowly sinking into the snowbank where Tanzi and Nawoom dropped him) engaging it, the yeti didn’t last very long. Tharivol obviously felt bad about killing it though, because he did what he could to make her mate (who was lying in the back of the cave dying from wounds caused by orcish weapons) comfortable. Nice enough gesture, I suppose, but he’s obviously not excessively sentimental – he made an attempt to make a passable blanket to wrap Saren in from the yeti corpses.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
22nd Nightal
In the morning, Saren’s skin was a little less yellow, but he was still feverish, convulsing, and occasionally coughing up spores. I don’t know a damned thing about disease or how the body works, but things seemed to be looking pretty bleak for Saren. And for some reason, that bothered me. A little.
We made it back to the fort, only to find it empty but for one foolish young recruit who didn’t look like he’d so much as started puberty. Seems the rest of the camp was off bivouacking in the woods somewhere and hunting orcs. Considering the quality of the recruits the Purple Dragons seem to have, I’m not really surprised that the orc tribe that’s been holing up in Kundrukar haven’t been rooted out before now…
Since there wasn’t anyone at the fort, we decided we may as well see if anyone was home at the High Horn Tower before trekking to Blaisingdell. We met two more of Cormyr’s finest, who were of no more help than the kid at the fort had been. Still, they were smart enough to realise that the group didn’t really have a charter, and insisted on peacestringing our weapons before sending us on our way.
We didn’t get more than a three or four miles along the East Way before it was too dark to see, so we had no choice but to hope that Saren would survive yet another night with a chest full of yellow mould.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
23rd Nightal
We made it to Blaisingdell fairly early in the morning, at which point I took Saren to the only cleric in the place while the rest of the group did various other things. After my feeble attempts to explain an affliction that I didn’t understand that was caused by events that I never saw, Nawoom finally remembered that he had a dying parishioner to try and help.
The cleric came into the shrine, smelling of ale and blathering about how cool his birthday present was going to be now that the smith had gotten it open for him. Birthday presents! I really think Nawoom could have benefited from spending a year or two living with some ascetic monks as a child.
Since I was no longer needed in the shrine, I left to find Tanzi. Which wasn't particularly difficult – there aren’t really a whole lot of public buildings to check in Blaisingdell after all. I found her getting hit on by the dwarven shopkeeper in the local sundries store. After grabbing a few items (and getting mocked for asking about a few useful – if slightly unusual – bits of gear), I decided to spend the rest of the day hanging around with the sane. So I left town and watched Tharivol training the black bear he’d recently made friends with.
As relaxing as spending a few hours without having to tell grown men "no" is, my appreciation of nature only goes so far. At dusk I went and rented a nice room with a big soft bed and clean blankets at the inn. Trees and stars are all well and good, but nothing beats the comforts of civilization.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
24th Nightal
In the morning, I returned to the shrine, to the sound of Saren’s incomprehensible accent. It seems that the clerics had managed to fix him, and judging by the mark on his chest, their efforts involved smacking him with the forge-hammer. Bloody cleric never thinks to offer to let me in on the fun.
After acting as a Saren-to-Common translator, and turning down an insanely large amount of money for Durgeddin’s chain at the general store, I went back outside and was surprised to see Tharivol and Black Paw entertaining the locals. To think that a few months ago, an elven druid playing a shalm in the middle of a street to the delight of his ursine companion would have seemed incredibly strange and exciting to me. You know, back when I was first thinking about becoming an adventurer, I always thought that I'd be travelling with people with a firm grip on reality and at least a bit of propriety…
With everyone reasonably well equipped and feeling good, we were on our way back to High Horn. The trip took most of the day, but we were finally ready to obtain our adventuring charter and comply with the law.
Shortly after the very bored guards let us into the tower, Chamberlain Polthus came up to us, arms full of a wide variety of important-looking papers. The Chamberlain's quite the interesting fellow; his language skills and knowledge of geography and history are truly impressive. Anyone who can understand Saren straight off has got to have truly impressive language skills. He's also the first person I've met that seemed to know more about the Sunless Citadel and the Forge of Fury than what we'd managed to piece together while wandering around inside them.
After identifying each of our home towns just from our accents (and mistaking me for a monk – I don’t really act like those repressed, pompous, self-important sticks-in-the-mud do I?), Polthus started taking down the details of our charter. There was some debate over the exact name, but everyone agreed to the Blue Flame part of my suggestion at least. Putting Belmor on the charter was pretty much unanimous too – but no one else was interested in granting Meepo posthumous membership.
After discussing Kundrukar, Galthais, Durgeddin, cartography, dwarven, the infantilism of scatological humour, and the state of the trees around High Horn with the Chamberlain, we were off to finish what we’d started in the Glitterhame. Durgeddin’s chain shall be used to clear the evil filth from his home, and then I’ll try to find whoever his heir would be and present it to its rightful owner.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
25th Nightal
After a quiet night’s rest, the Warriors of the Blue Flame set out once more for the infested caverns of the Glitterhame. As we neared the Stone Tooth, a pair of vile owlbears burst from the trees to attack us. Possibly realising that both Tanzi and Nawoom were more than it could handle, one of them wrapped me up with its wings (arms?) and crushed the air from my chest. Unable to defend myself and presumably of little concern to my party, I quickly passed out from the horrid stench.
There’re worse things than the odour of unnatural unbathed ursines though – even though they were somehow blending into the rock walls, the Troglodytes that attacked us made their presence known quickly enough with their nausea inducing musk.
After exploring the main level more thoroughly and discovering that the iron door in the vast main cavern was both locked and Tanzi proof, we had to decide where to explore further. While bearding the smelly lizards in their lair was a nice idea, it was deemed to risky to swim through their river-tunnel.
Looking at Saren’s map made it seem as though the dam we’d seen shortly before plunging to our near-doom might make for a back door of sorts, so we went off to see what we could see. Once we reached the river again, the druid helpfully pointed out that the bank looked slippery. Twit. Anyhow, we discovered that there is no way over the dam, and even if we found a way to pull it down, the pressure of the river coming out the bottom makes it seem as though it may well be a very bad idea to do so.
Since we had nothing better to do for the moment, the party went downstairs to investigate the doors that we’d seen near the waterfall pool earlier. There were two to choose from, both swollen shut from the constant mist. Swollen shut or not, they were only wood, and mere wood isn’t about to stop Tanzi from going where she wants.
Nawoom must have been hoping to find more obviously evil artefacts to play with, as he rushed into the room beyond the doorway with the cheerful enthusiasm of the innocent (or the suicidally insane). Instead of terror-inducing musical balls though, the Tymorean found only some sort of animated goop that dissolved all his clothing and possessions, and a fair bit of hair and skin as well. By the time he pulled loose from its grasp, he had only his magical morningstar to conceal his nakedness with. Not that he made any effort to do so. Bloody perverted decadent exhibitionist. With the now naked priest happily strutting around, I felt it prudent to retreat to the upper level and the crates of old clothing Saren and I had found the other day.
On the way though, Tanzi decided that we should investigate the narrow tunnel that the stream cutting through the stairs flowed into. After all, where there’s stirges, there’s, well, probably more stirges. But whatever. I guess I’m the only one disturbed by the cleric wandering around waving his stick in the air.
Initially, the whole group started into the crevasse, but once the first wave of stirges attacked, it was decided that the clumsy folks (that’s everyone who’s not me or Saren) should stay the hell off of two-foot wide ledges. Once the second wave of stirges caused Saren to damn near drown me while yelling about hamsters, it was decided that only the non-clumsy, non-insane (that’s just me) should go. Not far around the curve of the tunnel, I found a niche in the wall, with a narrow chimney that the stirges seemed to have nested in. At the bottom I found a long-dead dwarf. I gave Tanzi his money and kept the light-making wand for myself. At least now the bloody priest’ll keep his spells away from me – unless of course he feels like explaining why his pants are glowing every time we go to town.
Once we finally returned to our favourite campsite and obtained some clothing for Nawoom, he pointed out that we now had no food, and that he could neither cast nor pray for new magic until he secured a new holy symbol.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
26th Nightal
So off we went again, back downstairs, out the tunnel, and down the mountain. Right past the troglodytes that were hiding in the shadows, throwing spears at us. Can’t be bothered hunting down the sneaky bastards when we’ve got more important things to do. Like get a decent meal. Or a meal of any sort really. In fact, its probably a good thing the druid pissed off to take care of Blackpaw’s tummy ache the day before (serves him right – shouldn’t have let the animal eat those foul troglodytes in the first place – seems somewhat like letting small children eat candy until they vomit really – its always the overly accommodating adult who has to clean up after them). I always knew this adventuring life would involve roughing it and while bear might not be steak, it probably tastes pretty good after going a day without food.
Upon arriving at the palisade, we discovered that the soldiers were still camped elsewhere. Considering the kid they left behind to guard the place, I think they might be gone a little longer than usual. And since the little snot wouldn’t share any of his food with us, we were forced to move on, walking all damned night to get to town.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
27th Nightal
After dispatching yet another owlbear and running a second off (there’s sure a lot of these things around – what the hell are those Purple Dragons doing out there?) we made it back to town. While Nawoom and Tanzi wandered off, Saren and I took care of the most immediate priority – breakfast.
After a hearty second helping of whatever it was that we were eating, Saren and I whiled away the time gambling until Nawoom and Tanzi showed up from wherever they had been. Discovering that we’d be having to spend a full day in town while the blacksmith crafted a new symbol for the priest, I rented a room and headed for the general store, where I wound up covering some of Saren’s purchases after he managed to annoy the dwarven owner. (Hard to believe that Saren managed to annoy someone, I know.)
— Dalan Ratslayer —
28th Nightal
In the morning there was more “eggs” and “oatmeal” available in the common room, and after finishing up (it takes longer when you take the time to taste it), we found that Nawoom had his symbol and Tharivol and Blackpaw were once again entertaining the locals with their mere existence.
Once we got close to the mid-level entrance, Blackpaw became agitated and after a moment the elf told us that our usual route was probably a death trap at the moment, and that we ought to find another way in.
Since circling the mountain to try the front doors again took the better part of the day, we set camp so as to start refreshed.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
29th Nightal
A short inspection left us without any means of opening the massive front doors, even with Tharivol’s nature magic, so it was decided that we’d have to go down the chimney again. Not sure what’s going to happen with the bear, but I suppose we can determine that when we get to the top of the mountain.
The winter must be thining the herds, as a pack of starving wolves attacked us as we were hiking up the back of the Tooth. Thanks to the druid’s tangling spell, they mostly went down pretty easily. Tharivol starting barking and snarling and howling at the last one – I guess maybe he can talk to them or something. Doesn’t really matter though – a starving wolf’s to dangerous to leave alive – which the elf must have figured out too, since he beat its head in after Saren decided to interfere with my efforts along those lines. I’ll not be letting him or the priest walk behind me anytime soon, that’s for damned sure.
Not long after Saren and Tharivol finished mangling the dead animals (wonder what the hell the elf’s wanting wolf teeth for – seems rather grisly and unwholesome to me), we noticed that Nawoom had up and vanished. Just him though. His gear was sitting in the snow, sans priest.
After following some odd footprints into the underbrush, we encountered some sort of evil presence. As it flitted about the periphery of our vision, it mocked us and argued with Tharivol in elven. Saren joined in the conversation, but didn’t feel inclined to share with the rest of us. After a while, it became apparent that the spirit had left, so we headed back out to the scene of the fight and gathered up Nawoom’s equipment.
Once someone noticed that Blackpaw hadn’t came back with us, we went crashing into the woods again (Well, us humans did. Tharivol somehow managed to never have any twigs or thistles or trees in his way at all.) We found the bear bleeding out, his paw chopped off and nailed to a tree. Tharivol started yelling in elven and then did what he could to save Blackpaw. When I asked what was going on, the elf said something about “Malar” and then decided to send the crippled black bear off on its own. I told Tharivol what I thought of that, but I guess he’s the one who can talk to the animals, so he knows what he’s doing.
Since it was nearly dark by the time we got back out of the bushes, we decided to make camp. And since Saren wanted to take first watch, that meant I would be as well.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
30th Nightal
Not long into our watch, I sensed something down the hill a ways. After ringing Saren’s silly bell-on-a-string to get his attention, I sent him down the hill with a light spell to see what was out there. With Saren providing illumination (and a more obvious target), I began looking for anything out of the ordinary. What we found was out of much more than the ordinary. I cannot comprehend the evil that could do such horrific things to an innocent animal. Taking the note from atop the horribly tortured carcass of Blackpaw, Saren and I returned to camp, and told Tharivol that someone had left a parchment for us to find.
Its good to know that Saren’s not the only member of this group that doesn’t respect devotion to a proper god. I could have done without the ringing in my ears from Tanzi’s friendly tap though. While Saren was digging me out of the snowbank, I think I saw Tharivol looking towards the distant mound of bear flesh. I hope he doesn’t realise what he’s seeing.
…finally, forced to flee from the main doors, nearly dead and in poor spirits, we retreated to the base of the path to retrieve our mounts and pack animals. Naturally, they were no longer there. Naught but some small bloodstains and stray owlbear feathers gave evidence of there ever having been anything there at all.
Defeated, I waited for Nawoom to set up his tent; my own, like most of my equipment, was on my horse. I had not the priest's immense strength to carry all manner of gear with me at all times. Once the tent was assembled, I bade my fellows good evening and went to sleep.
15th Nightal
I know not when – or if the others rested, but I slept until dawn, not feeling much better than I had the night before. My injuries were still grievous, and at least one arrowhead was still lodged in my shoulder. I saw Saren and Nawoom praying to Tymora, and slowly moved off to get a good view of the sunrise. While the priest prayed for his spells, I silently called to Lathander for guidance. I know not if He spoke to me, but at the end of the hour, I was filled with resolve; the orc scum of the Glitterhame would pay dearly for my fallen companions’ lives. While Nawoom healed the group, I packed up his tent to ensure a quick start. After reminding the rest of the group how long and tiring the journey back to the fort would be on foot, I started up the mountain, determined to find the source of the smoke that had been constantly billowing from somewhere above us.
The deep midwinter snow slowed our movement – waiting on the heavily armoured priest slowed us even more. While we frequently lost sight of the plume, I never doubted which way we needed to go – I could have pointed to the source of the smoke without hesitation at any time during our climb. Thinking back now, I am certain that Lathander was with me this morning.
Eventually, our trek led us to a massive natural chimney far up the back of the mountain. After a great deal of planning, Tanzi tested a nearby tree for strength (Lathander's blessings continued that day, for us to find a convenient tree so far beyond the treeline was surely the act of a god) and we sent Saren down the chimney on Nawoom's rope. I followed shortly after Saren, and though my zeal nearly cost me my grip, I caught up with the lunatic quickly. The Moon
e was waiting at the very bottom of the chimney, over a massive bed of coals, waiting to see if he should use the pack full of snow or not. Not wanting to make more noise than absolutely needed, I gestured for him to peek into the chamber below and see if we might not be able to swing to one side of the coals instead. Saren decided that the best way to do this was by inverting himself within the chimney and using his feet to slowly descend the rope, into the chamber. After determining that nothing was about to eat him, he dropped the remaining length of the rope to see how much excess there was. After extinguishing its now smouldering end, Saren cut the last few feet of the rope off and swung off to the side. Not happy at the thought of losing sight of the group's madman, I quickly lowered myself out of the chimney and flipped to one side of the coalbed. Not unexpectedly, Saren was no where to be seen. Thankfully, he was simply well-hidden against the nearby wall, and not wandering down some tunnel. After the two of us were safely down, Nawoom began lowering his equipment and armour down the shaft. While I did approve the large priest's plan to separate himself from his heavy gear for the descent, my feet are still somewhat sore from having to rescue his pack and mail from their place above the coals. As for what happened next, I blame myself. I should never have mentioned how hot Nawoom's armour had become where Saren could hear me; once the idea of putting the pack full of snow onto the hot armour occurred to him, there wasn't really much chance of him leaving well enough alone. This meant that by the time Tanzi made it into the cavern, Nawoom was off in the corner putting on his armour while Saren and I discussed the wisdom of making that much noise after successfully sneaking into the orcs’ kitchen.
As it turned out, I was right. The loud hissing gained us a crowd, and earned me a javelin in the shoulder. (I swear, I could go the rest of my life without ever having a projectile weapon stuck in my shoulder and die a happy man.) With Nawoom off in the corner, mucking about with his overly complicated armour, the rest of us had no decent light source, so Saren lit a torch and dropped it in the corridor from which the first orc had come, presumably planning to fight by its light. Being Saren though, he didn't bother retreating when it promptly went out, and judging by the scream a moment later, I'd say that the orcs had no trouble seeing him. Hearing his parishioner in mortal danger yet again, Nawoom Tior stopped fumbling with his greaves long enough to helpfully place his bullseye lantern at the end of the corridor so that the rest of the group could get put an end to rest of the orcs investigative group. Safe for the moment (at least from everyone who wasn't part of the group), I went back into the kitchen to help Nawoom put on his armour. Saren had decided that more than anything else, what he really needed was one of the orcs' greataxes, which meant that Nawoom was going to have to hold a lantern instead of his shield since everyone else in the group was wielding two-handed weapons.
Much to my surprise, our scouting did not turn up any more orcs. After a few minutes exploration, we found a vast storeroom, full of stolen caravan goods that the orcs did not seem to feel held much value. While I moved through the mess looking for an ambush, Saren decided to commence looting. Instead of valuables, he discovered a blocked off passage into a small chamber. The north side of the chamber had a massive metal gate, and the spaces between the bars had been completely filled with cloths and blankets of all sorts. It was obvious to me that whatever lived beyond that gate was best left alone. Nawoom, of course, seemingly forgetting all the excitement his fascination with the Glowing Ball of Obvious Evil caused back in the Sunless Citadel, decided that we should make every effort to discover just what the orcs were so scared of. After I dissuaded his interest in engaging in reckless and dangerous behaviour, Nawoom went back to happily banging on the strongbox he had found in the storeroom outside. Saren, surprisingly enough, had used this time constructively, and had moved several of the crates back into position, so that from the storeroom, it would hopefully seem as though everything was just as it had been. Initially I wondered at the idea of blocking ourselves into this room when there was still much exploring to be done and a great deal of vengeance to be had. I had not counted on Nawoom being completely drained of divine power already though; once I realised that he wouldn't be able to put Saren together again (at least until tomorrow), holing up in this easily defensible room seemed best.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
16th Nightal
Going to have to keep today’s entry short — the blood loss is making it hard to write.
For some reason, I actually let my curiosity get the better of me this morning, and told Nawoom that he could go ahead and open up a hole in the rag wall. He ripped open a small gap like a child with a present, and cast a light spell so that he could see the other side. When nothing immediately attacked, he removed more of the padding and Tanzi bent the bars apart as though the steel was little more than soft lead. I hoped over the crossbar, and Tanzi managed to climb it easily enough, but Tior I think would have had trouble if it had been only a foot off the ground, rather than three. Once we were all together in the massive dwarven hall, Saren began poking around at the charred orc skeletons.
After those first few moments of calm though, my day really went to hell. It seems that I had been more prophetic than paranoid when I told the priest that the orcs had obviously been scared of something that would fit between the bars of the gate; an ominous buzzing sound was heard only long enough to get everyone worried before the damnable stirges attacked us. I managed to injure one as it approached me, but they must have been starved, as it, and a second, both plunged their sharp beaks deep into my flesh. I pulled one from my throat and tossed it away from me, but the second was on my back where I could not reach it. I remember something heavy falling on my back before I finally passed out from the pain.
When I awoke, my wounds gone, Saren and Tanzi both looked almost as bad as I felt — the bloodsuckers had left me weak and dizzy and all I really felt up to doing was encouraging Saren to hurry up and shoot the demonic little beastie as it perched up near the ceiling, digesting its horrific meal.
Once Saren’s arrows had popped the last of the stirges like a giant mosquito, Tanzi lead us all to the door at the far end of the room. Not really feeling up to a fight just now, I hung back a bit while the others flanked the door. Finding the stone door both locked, and most likely impervious to her once-preferred method of opening doors, Tanzi simply led us to the opposite end of the room. Not liking the look of the angry dwarven face carved into this door, I again hung back from the others as they flanked Tanzi and the doorway. I should have stayed much farther away from them.
The only thing I really managed to notice before the liquid fire stole my consciousness was Nawoom Tior, somehow managing to dive clear of the sheet of flame that poured from the entire eastern wall of the hall. Perhaps happily, I passed out too quickly to really experience the worst of the burning. I woke up seconds later though, still on fire, with Tior trying to lay his hands on my body without igniting his own clothes in the process. After some rather painful efforts, I managed to extinguish the alchemists’ fire, and went to help Nawoom put out Tanzi. Seeing that Tanzi was not about to expire, the priest moved to keep Saren alive while the fire burned itself out.
I think that if I ever make it out of this gods-forsaken fortress, I may just go back to Eveningstar and spend the rest of my life quietly in the monastery. At the very least, I’m going to just shave my head at all times from now on — I’m on fire much too often for it to ever get much longer than stubble anyhow.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
17th Nightal
The next day, after some discussion, we decided that before we wandered any deeper into Kundrukar, we ought to finish exploring the caverns behind us to ensure that we hadn’t missed anything either important or dangerous. Besides that, I knew that the orcs who’d killed Belmar and Meepo were still alive and that they were somewhere in those caverns. Once the crates were again moved away from the narrow opening, we crossed the store room and headed back toward where we started.
Since we hadn’t been afraid for our lives for almost five minutes by this point, the priest got bored and decided that the quickest way to remedy the situation was to cast light on my face. With this blinding light in my face I couldn’t decide if I should be angry at Nawoom, worried about permanent damage to my eyes, or scared of getting killed by whatever evil beastie decided that my very bright face made a very good target.
While I worried about my now-impending doom, Saren apparently wandered back to the store room to find something. All I know for sure is that after a few seconds, I heard one hell of a loud clatter. I’m not sure if he found what he was looking for, but shortly after Saren came back, we could all hear orcs investigating the storeroom. Since even Saren and Nawoom realised that getting found by a large group of orcs while I was glowing like a bonfire and unable to fight would be bad, we crept up the hallway into the kitchen.
While I hid in the corner and Saren smeared some sort of gooey crap on my face to try and dim the light, the orcs sent a scout to look for us. I’m not clear on just what happened, but it seems someone tried to prevent the scout from giving us away and failed. I heard a hail of javelins clattering against the walls and floor before someone told us demanded our surrender.
Unfortunately, while trying to stall for time and generally confuse the barbaric simpletons, we may have given them the impression that there wasn’t anyone who’d be much interested in paying for our release. Since I wasn’t going to be much use in my current state, I let Saren and Nawoom do the planning. Not surprisingly, the plan involved the excessive use of fire.
By the time they got everything ready though, at least some of the orcs had become bored and wandered away from the tunnel. From what little I could see, there was next to no opposition until we reached the crossroads, where some manner of spellcaster sent Tanzi running off into the darkness, screaming her head off. After a bit more blurry motion and clanging steel, Saren pushed me out of his way – I think an orc had snuck through the narrow side passage to try and get behind us. While I bumped into a couple of walls that I couldn’t really make out, Nawoom splattered orcs left and right and eventually shouted something about the sorceress running away on him. I was too busy being distraught about my blindness to point out that that was probably a good thing.
About the same time as Saren and Tior killed the last of the orcs, Tanzi, presumably recovered from whatever magical fear had afflicted her, returned with tales of a possible exit. She wanted to give up on the plan to get back to our campsite and try to make it out of the fortress altogether. The rest of us considered it, but the desire to stick with the plan for once, combined with the uncertainty of what lay between us and this distant door convinced everyone that we’d be best off continuing to our previous night’s camp.
After a few moments’ hushed discussion, we were ready to try and get across the storeroom to the hidden crevasse and into our defensible camp room. As Saren and Nawoom jockeyed for lead position, I silently prayed to Lathander for the idiot priest’s light spell to just go away already. I’d like to believe that my prayer was answered, but it seems that the far-too-easily bored cleric had just forgotten about it since the spell ended just as soon as he told it to.
As we tried our best to quietly move across the storeroom without attracting attention to ourselves, Saren decided it might be a good idea to use the lantern to see if anyone else was in the room with us. I used to think the villagers in Eveningstar were being foolish when they said ignorance is bliss, but I was certainly happier before I saw Ulfe and his minions calmly waiting for us.
Nawoom and I moved to keep Ulfe away from the entrance to our camp while the orcs and Ulfe’s pet wolves charged Tanzi and Saren. Ulfe himself came running right up to me and started swinging that enormous axe. I don’t know if the light from Saren’s lantern was throwing off his aim, or my nervous banter had him too angry to swing straight, but I was glad that he was taking chunks out of the stone floor instead of me. Tanzi was making short work of those few orcs she could get at, but Nawoom was almost totally ineffectual against Ulfe, and Saren was getting mauled by the wolves, so I decided that it might be best if I distracted Ulfe a bit.
I quickly moved behind him, using the well edge as a pivot point for my backflip and smacked him square in the back with the magical morningstar that Nawoom had loaned me after my chain melted the day before. I guess I was still weak from the blood loss though, because the last thing I remember seeing after my sudden bout of dizziness passed was an axe bigger than my torso as it split my chest wide open.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
18th Nightal
When I woke up in the campsite this morning, the first thing I saw was Saren cleaning blood (presumably mine) off Ulfe’s giant axe. I’m so very glad that he’s decided that objects from my nightmares will make for good trophies. Nawoom told me that after taking care of the orcs, Tanzi helped him put Ulfe down while Saren fought the wolves. Judging by the damage to his armour, Ulfe must have damned near taken Nawoom with him. He’s mostly annoyed about some orc who was throwing axes at him though.
It seems that the others are planning to stay put for another day or so, and I’m not going to argue.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
19th Nightal
Feeling a little better, we resumed our efforts to explore the caverns.
We found an orc-built wooden door, and heard someone making noise behind it. A quick look at the floor allowed me to determine that the door didn’t get opened much, and would probably be quite loud and attract a fair bit of attention once it was.
We left it behind for the time being to try and find the exit Tanzi had seen two days earlier. The large stone doors looked quite familiar, and once it was determined safe enough, we pushed it open. We’d found our way back to the chasm that had taken Balmor’s life. Since the bridge was still out, we headed back up to the wooden door; after paying our respects. Finding the door locked, I let Saren go ahead and try to trick the inhabitants into letting us in. The only thing we heard was more muffled struggling. After the priest and I agreed that it sounded like someone trying to shout through a gag, Tanzi and Nawoom charged the door as one and more or less obliterated it.
Once we freed and fed the two halfling prisoners, I managed to calm them down and convince them that, appearances and behaviour aside, none of my companions had any interest in harming them. Reassured that we really were rescuing them, the halflings told us that they were taken prisoner when their caravan was raided and had been left to rot in the cage while the orcs waited to see if anyone was interested in paying for them.
With charges in tow, our explorations were now focused mainly on finding a way out of the orcs’ lair so that we could return them to civilization. Since the caverns had been explored, we headed for the hallway at the far end of the storage room. At one end we found a short staircase leading to a door and another door just before the hall ended with a large statue of a dwarf. Apparently oblivious to what happened last time we mucked about with things with carved dwarven images, Saren happily waltzed right up to the statue, and set off some sort of gas trap. It didn’t seem to do anything to him the first time, but the gas didn’t look at all healthy. I guess he forgot to hold his breath the second time though, because after the second burst of green vapour flowed from the statue, our resident loon looked quite ill. Since Saren was done playing with dangerous statuary, we opened the door and moved into what seemed like a pretty disgusting bunkroom. Tanzi and Saren went into looter mode while I kept watch on Nawoom to make sure he didn’t threaten to eat the halflings.
Still hoping to find a way out, or at least the room with the arrowslits, we carefully approached the door at the top of the stairs. It seems that the human skull that was nailed to the door was just Ulfe’s way of saying “No Admittance” and not a warning of deadly traps ahead. After seeing the state of the ogre’s room, we were no longer surprised by his horrid stench. If you’re not smart enough to disregard your own feces, can you really be considered to be more than an animal?
Having still not found an exit, we decided we’d have to head back into the dungeon and check the far end of the hall. We didn’t have to go far before finding a second bunkroom, not significantly different from the first.
With all the halls and tunnels and rooms in the orc’s lair searched – and surprisingly empty since at least two of the orcs had escaped alive – we had no choice but to return to the room with the stairs and the fire trap. After Tanzi again bent the bars apart, we all climbed through. Worried more about one of them setting it off than about lighting them on fire, I made certain that everyone stayed well away from the dwarf-faced door as I desperately searched for the triggering mechanism, or at least the openings that the alchemist’s fire had blasted out of. Unable to find anything, and having neither the skill nor equipment nor strength to open the other door, we had no choice but to go deeper into the Glitterhame in our efforts to get out of it.
After descending deeper into the mountain for a few minutes, we discovered an underground stream that had cut into the rough stairwell. It wasn’t very wide, or very deep, but it was very cold, and quite fast. We managed to get across just before the stirges attacked.
I’m really, really starting to dislike stirges.
This lower level seems to be mostly vast caverns and cold, fast, deep streams. The stairs led into the first of several such caverns. After looking around for a few moments (made a lot easier by the bits of phosphorescent moss growing on the walls and ceilings), I decided to investigate the small shelf on the wall just above the point that the stream entered the wall. While I didn’t find any stashes of gold to donate to Lathander, I did discover that some sort of three-toed bipeds were crawling through the opening fairly frequently. Curiosity satisfied, I encouraged everyone to jump across the stream so that we could continue our search for a way out. Tanzi and Saren both made the jump without too much difficulty, but Nawoom the Turtle Priest, unsurprisingly, managed to jump only a few feet, and landed squarely in the centre of the water. Saren dove into the water before anyone had time to tell him what getting that cold can do to a person. While Saren fought the current, Tanzi simply reached down and hauled Nawoom out of the water with a single lift. Once Saren climbed out of the river and began stripping his soaked clothing off, I encouraged the halfling merchants to take running jumps across the river. I suppose that wasn’t really the best idea though, since Geradil didn’t get much further than Nawoom. Saren, somehow still able to function while turning blue, dove back in to save the little guy while Courana quailed at the sight of her husband floating downstream. Once Geradil was returned to dry land, I acquiesced to the halfling-tossing plan that the others had suggested earlier. I really had expected the merchants to be able to jump better than an armour-plated, overweight priest though. Once Courana was across, thankfully without any serious injury, I was the only one left. The massive blood loss that the stirges had inflicted on me chose the final step of my run up to cause me to nearly faint – I suppose there would have been more inopportune moments to collapse, but I doubt that most of them would have been as embarrassing as that.
Finally beyond the accursed streams, we began exploring the caverns. By this point, the rest of the party seemed to have forgotten about our goal of getting the halflings home to Blaisingdell – every time I tried to point out that getting ourselves killed by doing something stupid would be a bad thing, they began to make “coward” comments. At me. The hero of this little group of lunatics and loot seekers. So I wasn’t really surprised when Tanzi insisted on looting the dwarven tombs we found, despite the warning about Moradin’s curse befalling desecraters.
I have to admit though; the chain she found me is a thing of beauty. Courana read enough of the dwarven runes on it to tell me that it has the entire story of the Forge of Fury written on its links. I’m going to have to spend some time trying to decipher the whole thing next time we have some significant downtime. For now I’ll simply have to accept using it to remove the orc scum from these dwarven halls.
Not far from the tomb, we found yet another underground stream. This one was much bigger and moving much faster though. A quick investigation proved that the roaring sound we’d heard was in fact a waterfall, just as we had thought. It’s really too bad that we hadn’t made more of an effort to look at the rest of the cavern though – we might have noticed how slippery the rock near the water was before we started sliding down it. I’ll just have to look on the bright side – I can add going over a waterfall to the list of things I’ve survived…
After recovering Courana – and my new chain – we returned to main cavern and began following the path through the fungal forest, toward the steel door we’d seen from the vantage point of the tomb area. While we didn’t get attacked by anything hiding between the giant mushrooms (yet) – Saren and Nawoom did manage to attract the attention of some sort of tentacled monsters that were hiding on top of a ledge that the path went right next to.
My attempts to free Saren from the mass of tentacles that were wrapped around his head were thwarted when a third set attacked me and began hauling me up into the air while choking out what life was left in me. Before I passed out, I saw Raven and some elf come wandering out of the mushroom forest. When I woke up a little later, on the ground at Tanzi’s feet, Saren was busy trying to pick a fight with the new guy.
No longer all that interested in the door, or much of anything else for that matter, we fell back to the hall between this room and the river to make camp. While this new druid fellow went off to gather some edible mushroom, Raven explained something about a cursed ring that takes him to the Shadow plane and then back to normal reality at random times. I wonder if it will always bring him to where the rest of us are?
— Dalan Ratslayer —
20th Nightal
Today, I mostly just laid around and regretted having ever left Eveningstar. Still, that magic Nawoom used on me has me feeling a lot better. If he does that once or twice more, no one would be able to tell I’d ever been bitten by any stirges.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
21st Nightal
We had a considerably more productive day today. Since no one really wanted to face those tentacled beasts again (although there was some talk of using Nawoom and / or Saren as bait and then pulling them off the ledge so we could attack them more effectively), we headed off to the other exit from the main chamber.
After wandering through the narrow, winding caverns for a short while, we found a large room. Since I was at the back guarding the merchants, I didn’t actually see what happened, but it seems that Saren once again touched something he shouldn’t have, because when I went to see what all the shouting was about, Saren was laying on the ground convulsing and looking decidedly yellow.
The cleric and the druid did what little they could for him – which apparently is the only reason he’s still alive – and we moved on, redoubling our efforts to find a way out of this accursed dungeon.
Shortly after that, I finally discovered the creatures that had left the tracks I found a few days ago. Some manner of humanoid lizards, they seemed very surprised to see so many surface dwellers wandering around their cave. Hoping to take them down quickly, I shouted for Tanzi to take the one on the left while I charged towards the one on the right.
After a short battle, the enemies lay dead on the ground, trapped (along with half the party) by some sort of spell that Tharivol had cast on the area. Once the roots stopped hindering everyone’s movement, our new party member decided to free a captive brown bear from its cage. At least he calmed it down before setting it loose.
Having finally found an exit, we happily left the darkness of the cave – only to find the darkness of the pre-dawn morning waiting for us on the surface. With Saren still in bad shape, and liable to die at any time (according to Tharivol, who says that Saren’s been infected by something called yellow mould) we debated about what was riskier – staying put until dawn or marching down the mountain in the dark. The debate was settled when Tharivol noticed a great many footprints in the tunnel entrance; if we stayed where we were, we’d spend the rest of the night fighting troglodytes.
Once we determined that we’d have to circle the entire mountain before we could head back down to High Horn, Tharivol began picking a reasonably easy path — although it was probably easier for him, what with not sinking into the snow at all. Shortly after the sun crested the horizon, I spotted a shallow cave just ahead, and pointed it out to our new member, who went off across the snowpack to see if it would make a suitable shelter to warm Saren up in.
The moment she saw the elf flying through the air away from the cave (or possibly after she heard the roar), Tanzi’s entire face brightened as she drew her greatsword and happily ran to the cavemouth. With the entire party (save for Saren, whose unconscious body was slowly sinking into the snowbank where Tanzi and Nawoom dropped him) engaging it, the yeti didn’t last very long. Tharivol obviously felt bad about killing it though, because he did what he could to make her mate (who was lying in the back of the cave dying from wounds caused by orcish weapons) comfortable. Nice enough gesture, I suppose, but he’s obviously not excessively sentimental – he made an attempt to make a passable blanket to wrap Saren in from the yeti corpses.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
22nd Nightal
In the morning, Saren’s skin was a little less yellow, but he was still feverish, convulsing, and occasionally coughing up spores. I don’t know a damned thing about disease or how the body works, but things seemed to be looking pretty bleak for Saren. And for some reason, that bothered me. A little.
We made it back to the fort, only to find it empty but for one foolish young recruit who didn’t look like he’d so much as started puberty. Seems the rest of the camp was off bivouacking in the woods somewhere and hunting orcs. Considering the quality of the recruits the Purple Dragons seem to have, I’m not really surprised that the orc tribe that’s been holing up in Kundrukar haven’t been rooted out before now…
Since there wasn’t anyone at the fort, we decided we may as well see if anyone was home at the High Horn Tower before trekking to Blaisingdell. We met two more of Cormyr’s finest, who were of no more help than the kid at the fort had been. Still, they were smart enough to realise that the group didn’t really have a charter, and insisted on peacestringing our weapons before sending us on our way.
We didn’t get more than a three or four miles along the East Way before it was too dark to see, so we had no choice but to hope that Saren would survive yet another night with a chest full of yellow mould.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
23rd Nightal
We made it to Blaisingdell fairly early in the morning, at which point I took Saren to the only cleric in the place while the rest of the group did various other things. After my feeble attempts to explain an affliction that I didn’t understand that was caused by events that I never saw, Nawoom finally remembered that he had a dying parishioner to try and help.
The cleric came into the shrine, smelling of ale and blathering about how cool his birthday present was going to be now that the smith had gotten it open for him. Birthday presents! I really think Nawoom could have benefited from spending a year or two living with some ascetic monks as a child.
Since I was no longer needed in the shrine, I left to find Tanzi. Which wasn't particularly difficult – there aren’t really a whole lot of public buildings to check in Blaisingdell after all. I found her getting hit on by the dwarven shopkeeper in the local sundries store. After grabbing a few items (and getting mocked for asking about a few useful – if slightly unusual – bits of gear), I decided to spend the rest of the day hanging around with the sane. So I left town and watched Tharivol training the black bear he’d recently made friends with.
As relaxing as spending a few hours without having to tell grown men "no" is, my appreciation of nature only goes so far. At dusk I went and rented a nice room with a big soft bed and clean blankets at the inn. Trees and stars are all well and good, but nothing beats the comforts of civilization.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
24th Nightal
In the morning, I returned to the shrine, to the sound of Saren’s incomprehensible accent. It seems that the clerics had managed to fix him, and judging by the mark on his chest, their efforts involved smacking him with the forge-hammer. Bloody cleric never thinks to offer to let me in on the fun.
After acting as a Saren-to-Common translator, and turning down an insanely large amount of money for Durgeddin’s chain at the general store, I went back outside and was surprised to see Tharivol and Black Paw entertaining the locals. To think that a few months ago, an elven druid playing a shalm in the middle of a street to the delight of his ursine companion would have seemed incredibly strange and exciting to me. You know, back when I was first thinking about becoming an adventurer, I always thought that I'd be travelling with people with a firm grip on reality and at least a bit of propriety…
With everyone reasonably well equipped and feeling good, we were on our way back to High Horn. The trip took most of the day, but we were finally ready to obtain our adventuring charter and comply with the law.
Shortly after the very bored guards let us into the tower, Chamberlain Polthus came up to us, arms full of a wide variety of important-looking papers. The Chamberlain's quite the interesting fellow; his language skills and knowledge of geography and history are truly impressive. Anyone who can understand Saren straight off has got to have truly impressive language skills. He's also the first person I've met that seemed to know more about the Sunless Citadel and the Forge of Fury than what we'd managed to piece together while wandering around inside them.
After identifying each of our home towns just from our accents (and mistaking me for a monk – I don’t really act like those repressed, pompous, self-important sticks-in-the-mud do I?), Polthus started taking down the details of our charter. There was some debate over the exact name, but everyone agreed to the Blue Flame part of my suggestion at least. Putting Belmor on the charter was pretty much unanimous too – but no one else was interested in granting Meepo posthumous membership.
After discussing Kundrukar, Galthais, Durgeddin, cartography, dwarven, the infantilism of scatological humour, and the state of the trees around High Horn with the Chamberlain, we were off to finish what we’d started in the Glitterhame. Durgeddin’s chain shall be used to clear the evil filth from his home, and then I’ll try to find whoever his heir would be and present it to its rightful owner.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
25th Nightal
After a quiet night’s rest, the Warriors of the Blue Flame set out once more for the infested caverns of the Glitterhame. As we neared the Stone Tooth, a pair of vile owlbears burst from the trees to attack us. Possibly realising that both Tanzi and Nawoom were more than it could handle, one of them wrapped me up with its wings (arms?) and crushed the air from my chest. Unable to defend myself and presumably of little concern to my party, I quickly passed out from the horrid stench.
There’re worse things than the odour of unnatural unbathed ursines though – even though they were somehow blending into the rock walls, the Troglodytes that attacked us made their presence known quickly enough with their nausea inducing musk.
After exploring the main level more thoroughly and discovering that the iron door in the vast main cavern was both locked and Tanzi proof, we had to decide where to explore further. While bearding the smelly lizards in their lair was a nice idea, it was deemed to risky to swim through their river-tunnel.
Looking at Saren’s map made it seem as though the dam we’d seen shortly before plunging to our near-doom might make for a back door of sorts, so we went off to see what we could see. Once we reached the river again, the druid helpfully pointed out that the bank looked slippery. Twit. Anyhow, we discovered that there is no way over the dam, and even if we found a way to pull it down, the pressure of the river coming out the bottom makes it seem as though it may well be a very bad idea to do so.
Since we had nothing better to do for the moment, the party went downstairs to investigate the doors that we’d seen near the waterfall pool earlier. There were two to choose from, both swollen shut from the constant mist. Swollen shut or not, they were only wood, and mere wood isn’t about to stop Tanzi from going where she wants.
Nawoom must have been hoping to find more obviously evil artefacts to play with, as he rushed into the room beyond the doorway with the cheerful enthusiasm of the innocent (or the suicidally insane). Instead of terror-inducing musical balls though, the Tymorean found only some sort of animated goop that dissolved all his clothing and possessions, and a fair bit of hair and skin as well. By the time he pulled loose from its grasp, he had only his magical morningstar to conceal his nakedness with. Not that he made any effort to do so. Bloody perverted decadent exhibitionist. With the now naked priest happily strutting around, I felt it prudent to retreat to the upper level and the crates of old clothing Saren and I had found the other day.
On the way though, Tanzi decided that we should investigate the narrow tunnel that the stream cutting through the stairs flowed into. After all, where there’s stirges, there’s, well, probably more stirges. But whatever. I guess I’m the only one disturbed by the cleric wandering around waving his stick in the air.
Initially, the whole group started into the crevasse, but once the first wave of stirges attacked, it was decided that the clumsy folks (that’s everyone who’s not me or Saren) should stay the hell off of two-foot wide ledges. Once the second wave of stirges caused Saren to damn near drown me while yelling about hamsters, it was decided that only the non-clumsy, non-insane (that’s just me) should go. Not far around the curve of the tunnel, I found a niche in the wall, with a narrow chimney that the stirges seemed to have nested in. At the bottom I found a long-dead dwarf. I gave Tanzi his money and kept the light-making wand for myself. At least now the bloody priest’ll keep his spells away from me – unless of course he feels like explaining why his pants are glowing every time we go to town.
Once we finally returned to our favourite campsite and obtained some clothing for Nawoom, he pointed out that we now had no food, and that he could neither cast nor pray for new magic until he secured a new holy symbol.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
26th Nightal
So off we went again, back downstairs, out the tunnel, and down the mountain. Right past the troglodytes that were hiding in the shadows, throwing spears at us. Can’t be bothered hunting down the sneaky bastards when we’ve got more important things to do. Like get a decent meal. Or a meal of any sort really. In fact, its probably a good thing the druid pissed off to take care of Blackpaw’s tummy ache the day before (serves him right – shouldn’t have let the animal eat those foul troglodytes in the first place – seems somewhat like letting small children eat candy until they vomit really – its always the overly accommodating adult who has to clean up after them). I always knew this adventuring life would involve roughing it and while bear might not be steak, it probably tastes pretty good after going a day without food.
Upon arriving at the palisade, we discovered that the soldiers were still camped elsewhere. Considering the kid they left behind to guard the place, I think they might be gone a little longer than usual. And since the little snot wouldn’t share any of his food with us, we were forced to move on, walking all damned night to get to town.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
27th Nightal
After dispatching yet another owlbear and running a second off (there’s sure a lot of these things around – what the hell are those Purple Dragons doing out there?) we made it back to town. While Nawoom and Tanzi wandered off, Saren and I took care of the most immediate priority – breakfast.
After a hearty second helping of whatever it was that we were eating, Saren and I whiled away the time gambling until Nawoom and Tanzi showed up from wherever they had been. Discovering that we’d be having to spend a full day in town while the blacksmith crafted a new symbol for the priest, I rented a room and headed for the general store, where I wound up covering some of Saren’s purchases after he managed to annoy the dwarven owner. (Hard to believe that Saren managed to annoy someone, I know.)
— Dalan Ratslayer —
28th Nightal
In the morning there was more “eggs” and “oatmeal” available in the common room, and after finishing up (it takes longer when you take the time to taste it), we found that Nawoom had his symbol and Tharivol and Blackpaw were once again entertaining the locals with their mere existence.
Once we got close to the mid-level entrance, Blackpaw became agitated and after a moment the elf told us that our usual route was probably a death trap at the moment, and that we ought to find another way in.
Since circling the mountain to try the front doors again took the better part of the day, we set camp so as to start refreshed.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
29th Nightal
A short inspection left us without any means of opening the massive front doors, even with Tharivol’s nature magic, so it was decided that we’d have to go down the chimney again. Not sure what’s going to happen with the bear, but I suppose we can determine that when we get to the top of the mountain.
The winter must be thining the herds, as a pack of starving wolves attacked us as we were hiking up the back of the Tooth. Thanks to the druid’s tangling spell, they mostly went down pretty easily. Tharivol starting barking and snarling and howling at the last one – I guess maybe he can talk to them or something. Doesn’t really matter though – a starving wolf’s to dangerous to leave alive – which the elf must have figured out too, since he beat its head in after Saren decided to interfere with my efforts along those lines. I’ll not be letting him or the priest walk behind me anytime soon, that’s for damned sure.
Not long after Saren and Tharivol finished mangling the dead animals (wonder what the hell the elf’s wanting wolf teeth for – seems rather grisly and unwholesome to me), we noticed that Nawoom had up and vanished. Just him though. His gear was sitting in the snow, sans priest.
After following some odd footprints into the underbrush, we encountered some sort of evil presence. As it flitted about the periphery of our vision, it mocked us and argued with Tharivol in elven. Saren joined in the conversation, but didn’t feel inclined to share with the rest of us. After a while, it became apparent that the spirit had left, so we headed back out to the scene of the fight and gathered up Nawoom’s equipment.
Once someone noticed that Blackpaw hadn’t came back with us, we went crashing into the woods again (Well, us humans did. Tharivol somehow managed to never have any twigs or thistles or trees in his way at all.) We found the bear bleeding out, his paw chopped off and nailed to a tree. Tharivol started yelling in elven and then did what he could to save Blackpaw. When I asked what was going on, the elf said something about “Malar” and then decided to send the crippled black bear off on its own. I told Tharivol what I thought of that, but I guess he’s the one who can talk to the animals, so he knows what he’s doing.
Since it was nearly dark by the time we got back out of the bushes, we decided to make camp. And since Saren wanted to take first watch, that meant I would be as well.
— Dalan Ratslayer —
30th Nightal
Not long into our watch, I sensed something down the hill a ways. After ringing Saren’s silly bell-on-a-string to get his attention, I sent him down the hill with a light spell to see what was out there. With Saren providing illumination (and a more obvious target), I began looking for anything out of the ordinary. What we found was out of much more than the ordinary. I cannot comprehend the evil that could do such horrific things to an innocent animal. Taking the note from atop the horribly tortured carcass of Blackpaw, Saren and I returned to camp, and told Tharivol that someone had left a parchment for us to find.
Its good to know that Saren’s not the only member of this group that doesn’t respect devotion to a proper god. I could have done without the ringing in my ears from Tanzi’s friendly tap though. While Saren was digging me out of the snowbank, I think I saw Tharivol looking towards the distant mound of bear flesh. I hope he doesn’t realise what he’s seeing.
