The Heroes of Winterhaven - updated 8th June - Ryam Plays Dice

[Mathew_Freeman]

The Cathedral of Blood, Part 4

“Bring me bones!” cursed Kalarel, standing before the altar of the dark lord of death and darkness. The zombie hound by his side leapt forward, flinging itself onto the paladin who now stood alone, a line of skeletal warriors behind him, the high priest of Orcus in front of him. A shining aura surrounded him such that as the undead minions approached, limbs jerking and armour creaking, they combusted into radiant fire and vanished into the darkness in glowing motes and embers. Nonetheless, the terrible hound clung to his great shield, it’s weight pulling him to one knee.

Theron dropped to the floor from the chain he had climbed down, looking around he saw his companions locked in combat amidst a pool of thick dark blood that lapped and splashed around their feet. From one side of the nightmarish temple of darkness approached a large rotting humanoid flanked by sneering ghoulish figures. The two Halflings, ducking in and out of the cover of the temple furnishings made there way across the chamber towards the undead horrors.

Cass and Fangorn had piled into the ranks of skeletal warriors and were busy trading blows with their deft opponents, while the warlock skirted the battle, unleashing bolts of eldritch energy at any foe who strayed from the pack.

Across the length of one wall an arch of darkness wavered in the thick stench-ridden air. Beyond the arch, shadowy forms writhed and convulsed. This was certainly the object of their quest, thought Theron, this was the portal they must somehow close. Theron decided on his course of action, and summoned a thunderwave that caused surge of blood from the pool to wash over a group of skeletal warriors, hurling them back into the stonework.

As the skeletons were smashed to pieces the party frontline arrived at where Kalarel stood, hurling searing dark energy into the melee.

“It has been too long since I have engaged in combat!” he sneered, summoning a shield of darkness around him as the warriors closed in.

Meanwhile Aran and Ryam ducked and rolled around their opponents, two wights and the corruption corpse, whose necromantic auras threatened to freeze them in their tracks if they stood still for but an instant…

DM's note: This session marked the birth of Team Halfling, as our two intrepid players took on the corruption corpse and two wights by themselves. This caused much laughter at the table and was a great example of something just happening.

floating_disc, playing Ryam, was really starting to get into his stride as a Warlord at this point, dishing out extra actions, bonuses and the rest. As he gets more familiar I think we're going to see a dramatically improved party.

Next time: The conclusion!

 

[Aran Thule]

I was worried how the two Halflings would get on as Ryam seemed the serious type, luckily with this fight they worked together and Team Halfling was formed.
As a side note i found the wight drain effect to be nasty, i think i was out of surges at the end of that fight which could have got bad if we hadnt beaten them when we did.
I also have to mention that Splug did well in both the final fights, he seems to be adept at fighting undead... or just very lucky.

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

The Cathedral of Blood, Part 5

“Go Team Halfling!” chanted the young Ranger and the Warlord, clinking goblets before taking deep swigs. Lord Markelhay raised his eyebrows in surprised amusement.

“Go Team Halfling indeed!” he affirmed and raised his own goblet, “And so Kalarel finally succumbed to your prowess in battle! You smote his ruin upon the altar of his dark god, I presume?”

“Actually, the lord of death claimed it’s own,” declared Theron. “Before he fell, the beasts that lurked beyond reached through into this world with tentacles of shadow and seized Kalarel, dragging him into the darkness he served, to await a fate we dare not imagine.”

“Such evil,” whispered Lord Markelhay. “Such a terrible fate that you have spared us all. And so sealing the portal once and for all you have left this land safe for decent folk once more.”

“The portal is secure for now, this much I can assure you,” ventured the wizard, “But I cannot say that such things were meant to rest for all time. As we closed the portal, the warlock used the mirror to read the arcane inscriptions that adorned it. In doing so he claims to have seen a horror that was not meant for this world. It lives still, and it watches with a hungry eye.”

The gathering grew hushed. They looked at the scrawny figure of a man of indeterminate age, wearing a dirty white peasants smock, hunched over a plate of prawn vol-au-vonts, his lank black hair covering his face and descending all about him as far as the carpeted floor of the dining hall.

“What did you see, warlock, of which we must be so afraid? What horror lies beyond the shadow portal?” asked the lord of Fallcrest.

DM's note: This is, unfortunately, likely to be the last post for a couple of weeks as I'm off on holiday to Viriginia with my partner.

However, I'll be adding more updates when I get back!

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

Through the Looking Glass

Swarms of flies swirled and swooped through the processional avenues of the easternmost city like thick black smoke carried on rolling winds, though no fire had burned here for many moons. The dead lay where they had fallen, in their homes or in the streets, their bodies now obscured under a crawling shroud of insects.

The only human survivor walked barefoot through the streets across the chitinous carpet of beetles and bugs. He had become skeletally thin, so much so that he had been able to simply step through the bars of the bamboo cage in which he had been held. Matted black hair down to the ground, ragged white smock speckled with the many insects that clung to him, he wandered out of the city and found the old road, which he followed towards the setting sun.

With the Stargazers dead there lived no-one who remembered the ancient ceremonies that kept the Plaguestar in its slumber. This was the first manifestation of the awakening, there would be more.

He was accustomed to isolation and thought not, whilst he walked, that he might benefit from company along the way. When, at length, he encountered some travellers at the road side he seemed not to perceive them, walking by with his eyes fixed on the horizon.

Those he passed often thought him afflicted, yet his step was purposeful and he asked not for aid. His appearance marked him to those who obeyed superstition as an oracle, and they likewise let him pass untroubled.

He had lived his life as a certainty. No delay of consideration affected his thoughts nor his actions. There was only one way, that which must be done now. As such his first learning was thus: The oracle knows not the future, he simply does not question it.

Some time later, he would find himself in a dark chamber filled with idols of a foreign power, images that declared that the dead would rise to inherit the earth. Gazing into the mirror he viewed the shadow portal in reflection and saw that what had appeared as a mass of writhing darkness now presented as a great golden gateway, proud in all its ancient splendour.

Beyond the gate lay a road, beckoning, winding.
Beyond the road lay a hall, quiet and still.
In the hall, a throne, about which sat souls of dead men,
Silently singing, or vacantly staring.
On the throne sat a prince,
And none raised their head above his.
On his head he wore horns,
And his boots were but hooves.
His girth was as a tall tree is around,
And yet here nothing lived,
But the darkness itself.

Before the lord and lady of Fallcrest, as well as his adventuring companions, the Warlock Sabbat Fau spoke in a low, droning mumble, in a voice coloured with the accent of a far and foreign culture, “They wait beyond the world that is our own, they see us not by our faces but by our souls. We are holes in space and time, flaws, as dirt is to linen, and nothing more. They would remake the world to be perfect, as once it was without us.”

DM's note: I had been working on adding some more detail to the various stages of the adventure path, and having read some of the later modules I had an idea of where things were going. As such, letting Sabbat Fau meet the gaze of Orcus seemed like a perfect thing to do...

Next time: Onwards to the Road of Lanterns!

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

The Road of Lanterns, Part 1

When supper was over the guests, Lord and Lady Markelhay, and their niece Marianna, repaired to the lounge. The patriach stood before the gathering and addressed them with an air of gravity.

“When you are sufficiently rested, I would propose an assignment, if you are willing. I would have you venture to Thunderspire Mountain, where lairs the Bloodreaver Clan, a group of hobgoblin slavers and mercenaries who have made their foul presence known to the good folk of these parts. They have taken many of my people as slaves, to sell them in the markets of the undercity. It is possible that your brother is among those they have seized.” He ended the statement looking at Cass, who had stationed herself near one of the windows that looked out on the hill above the town of Fallcrest. Cass looked up from the view and stared the Lord right in the eye.

“If this is true then I for one will undertake this assignment,” she spoke steadily.

“I would of course reward you financially for your labours,” said the Lord, looking around at the others.

Elwanen stirred in his armchair, “Would you require proof of our having completed the task, heads on spikes along the roadside, that sort of thing?”

“It’s better than him bringing them back in a bag,” added Aran, cheerfully.

“Lord Paraig did mention something about that in his letter.” answered the Lord warily. “Let me be clear that I require no proof whatsoever that the slavers are dead, simply that the slaves themselves have been freed. I would also be delighted if you would accept amongst your worthy company the assistance of my niece.”

Marianna looked up from her wine glass. “My uncle has been trying to get me out of the house for so long now, he rather thinks it apt that should embark upon an ‘adventure’. If you will have me I should be glad to honour his wishes, and give him the peace he so deserves.” Mariana spoke without irony but with a reserve that suggested she may not entirely concur with her uncle.

“You will be most welcome to accompany us, but I suggest you leave the dress here,” said the Drow known as Waylander. “Have you skill with that blade you carry?”

“I have picked up a few tricks here and there,” began Marianna, “and don’t worry, I will dress suitably for the task ahead.”

“Tell me about this place, Thunderspire Mountain,” ventured Cass.

“Home to the Mages of Saruun, Thunderspire Mountain is named for the storms that beset its peak,” said the Lord. “It sits over an ancient minotaur city, Saruun Khel, but it is in the Seven Pillared Hall that those who live above and below meet, and trade…”

DM's note: Lord Markelhay had heard about Elwanen's habit of bringing back a bag of heads to prove that he's been working from a letter from Lord Parrig in Winterhaven. Letters travel faster than adventurers.

Next time: Into the Mountain!

 

[Aran Thule]

This is Aran's Tavern Tale (Tale 4) which he told upon arriving at Fallcrest

The Blueflame Orb was packed to the rafters and the owner Par Breenan was rushed off his feet trying to serve the buoyant crowd. He did not mind as it was indeed a joyous occasion, for working at his side wearing an apron instead of her armour was his daughter Cass, returned home safe after heading north in search of her brother.

The search had been a failure with noone having heard or seen anything of Jon Breenan, but the trip had not been uneventful, at that moment in pride of place over the bar was a huge great axe which if the stories were to be believed could burst into flame at the thought of its wielder.
The storyteller in question was another welcome returnee, Aran Thule had headed off with Cass and had promised to look after her, they had also been commissioned by Parle Cranewing to map out an abandoned keep near the town of Winterhaven. But the adventure the ranger described seemed more then just a simple mapping expedition.

Gathered closest to him were many halflings of varied ages who wanted to hear the stories of the young white haired ranger, many from the Halfmoon Trading House who were glad to hear that the trade routes between the two towns should now be a lot safer. Further back were other patrons, taking advantage of their height but no less attentive, they listened often with disbelief at the tale of how doom had almost descended upon them.

The drinks had flowed as Aran spoke of the journey up and the attempted ambushes that had taken place, of the rescue of Douven Staul and the battles of kobold creek. Of the first venture into the ruins of the keep and the rescue of Splug, of the sad death of Rangrim and most recently of the treachery of Ninaran as she defiled the towns graveyard. Now they waited as Aran described the final venture into the depths of Shadowfell Keep…

“We were worried that we might be too late… what with the having to return to Winterhaven and back, we knew that time was of the essence and that Kalerel’s ritual was nearing completion but we didn’t know what we would face so we advanced cautiously. I took the lead and it all seemed quiet, like the calm before the storm, we reached the area we had fought the hobgoblins and pressed on until we found a set of doors behind which I could make out voices.
Now surprise is always short lived so I wanted to make the most of it, so quietly we hatched a plan while I made sure the door was unlocked but the surprise was on us as Elwanen smashed open the door and charged into the room. He didn’t get far, a nasty hobgoblin in fancy robes pointed a staff at him and the energy from it knocked him flying, Cass charged up as well and another war caster shot her with his staff and knocked her down as well. Now noone does that to a friend of mine but I couldn’t get to them, there were several guards, a huge cauldron of boiling soup and a few archers between us, Fangorn charged into the front rank of guards and I sped between the guards, I remembered the fish oil coffin trap… I didn’t want them pouring hot soup over me so before they could react I jumped up and gave the top of the pot a good kick and knocked it the other way so it poured over the archers.”

Cheers erupted from the crowd and even Sergeant Thurmina of the watch (she along with two other members of her guard unit had decided to go off duty to hear first hand of the events up north) chuckled at the description.
“I used the cauldron for cover as the hobgobs closed in, I tell you they are nasty, trained to work together, once they form a shield wall it’s a nightmare to take them down. But what can you do, if you get held up at the wall the archers and casters have free reign to unleash arrows and burning death upon you, the boss hadn’t even bothered to get involved yet, he was just laughing and calling us names.
Fangorn managed to force his way past the guards and charged the casters and I followed suit, both of us saw them as a major threat that needed to be taken down but leaving a foe behind you is risky and we both took hits from the guards as we passed them. We reached the warmages and attacked, I sliced and diced with Fang and Talon but couldn’t get a killing blow, neither could Fangorn as the defensive magics deflected his attacks… and then they hit back, one shot Fangorn with a force ray and pushed him into a blazing fire pit, now being a tree that wasn’t good, he screamed and collapsed, the other warmage muttered a word and his staff came alive with power, he smashed it down on my head and then everything went black… we had tried to take down the enemy and failed and now were down and unconscious with a wall of guards between us and our friends.”

The crowd hushed and the younger listeners looked distressed, one of the guards muttered under his breath ”I never saw no tree enter town…”
Aran milked the tension before continuing “I opened my eyes to see an armoured figure kneeling over me, thankfully it was Elwanen, he had teleported past the guards and healed me with his faith, but before I could rise the warchief attacked and struck the eladrin to the ground. Things looked bad, Des shouted across the room for Fangorn to fight on and not give in. The brave burning tree charged out of the flames and smacked one of the mages so hard he left a dent in the wall behind him, and proceeded to lay into the other one. Before this mage had a chance to react Sabbat appeared and with a wave of magic caused the smoke from the fire to reach out and drag the warmage into the flames where he was immolated. I got up had joined in the fight against the war chief and the remaining guards while Fangorn got his breath back and poured a potion down Elwanen’s throat. The battle had turned and we killed the chief and got the last guard to surrender.
With the ritual close to completion we did not have time to rest so we headed deeper into the ruins, it started to smell bad, of death and blood and other bad stuff. We entered a huge chamber with streams of blood snaking across the floor towards a central pit, we could hear chanting below but in front of us was the priest we had met earlier, but instead of zombies this time he had brawny wild eyed humans with big axes protecting him.
I moved to the side hoping to flank them but as I passed a side passage a creature jumped out at me, it had pale skin and glowing eyes and big, large, sharp pointy teethies, from his clothing it looked like he had been a farmer but was now a nasty kind of vampire spawn.
Thankfully he wasn’t that tough, as he lunged for my neck I reacted and thrust Talon straight through its chest and the light in its eyes went out. I was then I noticed the movement in the shadows, there was a lot more of these things in the room. This time we worked as a unit, using our skills to best effect, Ryam had a flag which he waved to inspire us and it seemed to work, we were better coordinated and took down our enemies, knocking some into the pit and flanking the stupid berserkers, even Splug helped, taking down some of the vampire spawn. The battle ended quickly, even the attacks of a sneaky shadow creature couldn’t stop us, we took down the berserkers and then the priest and then took a second to catch our breath, the only way out was down the blood coated pit, and because we had knocked someone down there they would know we were coming.”

The whole tavern seemed to lean forward in anticipation of the final battle, Aran drained the flagon he held and started on the finishing chapter.
“We climbed down the chains and ended up in a pool of blood, Ryam placed his standard and we looked around. The chamber was lit with foul lights and fire pots, statues of the god of undead stood around the room and stairs on either end of the room led up to an alter on one side and a pit on the other.
Covering a large part of one of the walls was a stone arch and in this arch was blackness, evil oily blankness that glistened and rippled as if there was something just under the surface, in front of it was a magic circle… we had found the portal to the Shadowfell.
We saw Kalarel then, he was a big scary human in black robes and armour carrying a sinister rod that glowed with dark power, next to him was an undead hound and blocking the stairs were a row of skeletons, more skeletons were scattered around the room and on the opposite side from Kalarel stood an ominous dark figure that I recognised as one of these nasty corpses that lob bits of their flesh at you, next to that were two wights.
So there we were, surrounded on all sides by undead and bad magic with the portal looking close to opening.
A wave of magic flew over my head and slammed into the flesh lobber, knocking it back into the pit, Ryam and I charged the wights while Cass attacked the skeletons on our flank, Theron and Elwanen made some skeletons go boom before the paladin and Fangorn attacked their ranks trying to get to Kalarel.
It was a great battle, magic flew, bones were shattered and undead were smited, I tag teamed the wights with Ryam and slowly we weakened and destroyed them, Team Halfling for the win!” A cheer went up from massed horde of halflings that were listening to the story.
“Unfortunately Kalarel had a few tricks up his sleeve, Cass had taken down the skeletons and now charged the evil cleric, preparing to chop him in half with her big flaming axe… the coward teleported away from her and appeared in the circle by the portal and a swarm of tentacles erupted from the darkness lashing out at any of us that came near.
We closed in, I pulled out my fish and challenged the nasty man, then ran in and hit him hard with Talon and Fang, Ryam was right behind me and he sliced in with his big sword and nearly chopped Kalarel’s leg off. Noone could survive a wound like that, Kalarel fell backwards out of the circle and the tentacles grabbed him and pulled him through into the Shadowfell.
There was a moments silence as we all stopped and looked at the portal… but it didn’t close, the darkness erupted again and this time the tentacles grabbed Fangorn and started to pull him towards the portal.
Now Fangorn was strong and Cass and Ryam grabbed him and were holding him back but I noticed something else, the tentacle was draining the life from him and using him to drain power from the heartstone, we had to stop it.
I ran up and sliced through a tentacle but as soon as I did more reached out and grabbed him, it was a losing battle, I think something passed between Fangorn and Elwanen as they came to the conclusion that the only way to stop this was for Fangorn to die outside the portal and for his body to be saved.
Theron was using his magic to try to close the portal and it all seemed to happen at once, Elwanen ran his sword through Fangorn’s heart and Theron finished his chant… the portal shut leaving just a normal stonewall.
We had won; Winterhaven was saved but at what cost… all the people that had been sacrificed to try to open the portal, Rangrim the paladin of Moradin and now Fangorn… To fallen friends and the fight against evil!” Aran raised his flagon and toasted his former companions, everyone in the tavern followed suit and there was a moments silence for the fallen.
“Then something strange happened... Fangorn’s body split open and inside we found the body of a dark skinned elf, stranger too was the fact he was alive. We didn’t know what to do but thought it best to take him back to see Valthrun. Kalarel had vanished through the portal but we found a few other interesting things, I got this crystal and dagger see.” Aran pulled out a dagger and span it in the air, he caught it and then the crowd gasped as the blade glowed and changed appearance to look like lightning, while they were reeling from that he pulled out a long dangerous looking piece of crystal that almost looked like a sword, but it was the fact to glowed a bright greenish blue that caused the looks of awe and wonder.
Aran grinned and put the weapons away and reached for the next drink.
“We made our way back, carrying the unconscious drow until we arrived at Winterhaven were we were given a lords welcome, I don’t remember much of that night but it was fun. Anyway that’s almost where my tale ends, we headed back here but one day while leading I heard a noise and then saw a human running around a bend in the road screaming that he was being chased by kobolds. Well we have faced kobolds before, just not in this number, there must have been hundreds of them, a sea of little wannabe dragons chasing this one human, well we had to even the odds a bit.
Now Theron is good with the old magic, Cass is lethal with that axe and that drow is a killer with his crossbow, but who do you think took down the most?”

Aran grinned and jumped onto the bar and posed to the crowd, the tavern erupted in noise and the chants of ‘Aran! Aran!’ could even be heard in Hightown.

James/Floating_Disc (who plays Rangrim/Ryam) has also drawn a picture of Aran, which i think looks great

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

The Road of Lanterns, Part 2

“Well, this looks like a fine one,” came a rude voice from beyond the partially open door through which a wedge of light divided the darkness of the tunnel, “We’ll get ten pieces of gold for you!”

“Funny that,” came the chirpy reply, “ Cos i’m worth twenty. I’ll buy myself if you let me go!”

Waylander and Aran crept through the shadows of the tunnel. With an exchange of signs they reached either side of the door and peeked through. Beyond lay several connecting rooms where a group of hobgoblin soldiers appeared to be taunting a Halfling, whose hands had been bound with rope.

Further down the tunnel the rest of the adventuring companions gathered to await the signal from the scouts. After three days on horseback, the party had reached Thunderspire Mountain. There they had ventured the length of the Road of Lanterns, several miles of subterraenean thoroughfare lined with hideous demonic statues bearing magically glowing lamps. It was said that there were seventy-seven statues, each a hundred feet apart. Ryam had attempted to count them to verify the story, but had lost count around halfway and decided it wasn’t really worth the trouble after all.

Now the main tunnel had splintered into many smaller passages, and some way along one of these the adventurers realised that they had made contact with some of the infamous Bloodreaver Clan.

Waylander readied to give the signal to attack. He had plenty of experience in combat, but this was a new crew. While you always had your scouts, and you always had your front and back lines, every crew operates differently. It was time to find out just what kind of operators he had fallen in with.

“Ready,” he whispered, raising his hand, poised to give the signal.

“His hands up. That’ll be the signal,” commented Elwanen from back down the passage. With that the paladin led the entire party surging forward, and piling in through the doorway.

Aran just made it in through the door in time to avoid being crushed under the melee avalanche that descended upon the unsuspecting Hobgoblins. The Drow scout however was not quite so accustomed to the headlong rush, and found himself barged out of the way repeatedly.

First Aran dived in. There was the sound of two swords being drawn, a rapid slicing, followed by a scream in goblinoid. Next charged Elwanen, sword and shield at the ready. From the room beyond there emerged a burst of radiant light, some shouting, and a series of blows, some with the resounding ring of sword upon shield, resulting in cries and screams. Next came Cass, hefting her greataxe. Charging through the door there could be heard a battle cry followed by hacks and cleaves, the sound of armour and shield being split. Next went Sabbat Fau, who strode through the doorway, raising his hand and muttering his curse.

“Youuu…” There was a flash of light and the crash of eldritch energy striking home. Ryam dived through next. With his broadsword readied he charged in, barking commands to his companions. Lastly, Marianna stepped up, giving Waylander a nonchalent shrug.

“Come on then,” she said, again without a trace of irony, “You’ll miss all the fun.”

The Drow grimaced slightly, and entered swiftly on her heels.

DM's note: Ah, the perils of rolling a 1 on your initiative check.

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

From Tiny Acorns, Part 1

This story hour post is designed to fill in some of the “missing” information, including the dramatic arrival of Waylander into the party.

Deep within the Winterhaven Keep, in the Cathedral of Blood dedicated to the Demon Prince of the Undead, Orcus, the Death Cultist leader Kalarel cried out in pain as Riam’s scourge drew blood from his leg. The others were closing in – Aran’s blades gleaming in the light, radiant energy gathering around Elwanen as he ran forwards as Theron shaped another bolt of arcane energy. The strange wooden creature hefted a massive Warhammer, inscribed with runes, over it’s head and stepped closer. The battle was clearly lost, and Kalarel knew his dark master would be most displeased. Looking around, he could see that his undead allies were destroyed or scattered, the profane items dedicated to Orcus were overturned and ruined.

As the warrior-woman Cass moved in closer, swinging her axe, Kalarel whispered a last prayer in his mind and hoped for a swift end, swifter than those he’d granted his victims throughout his life. Abruptly the pain in his leg vanished, to be replaced by a searing agony throughout his limbs. Dark tentacles of energy had seized him, emanating from the ink-black portal behind the Cleric, and with a wrench Kalarel was pulled through the archway. His cries of shock and pain cut off the instant he passed through.

The companions that had battled down to this lowest level of the Winterhaven Keep looked at each other, hardly daring to believe that they had finally disposed of the foe that had plagued the area in the past months. There was a silence in the room, a glad noiselessness that spoke of hard work rewarded and goodness winning through.

“Now,” said Elwanen grimly. “Let’s see about getting this thing closed.”

Sabbat Fau, his long hair reaching to the floor in an unkempt mess, reached into the bloodstained robes he wore. Pulling out the Mirror recovered from the Dragon’s Tomb, he glanced down into it and went white in shock. Staggering back, he thrust the mirror towards Theron, the Wizard, and almost ran back to the chains that led back upwards and out of the complex. The Tiefling Des followed him, shouting back that he’d make sure he was all right. Theron examined the mirror to see what might have caused such a reaction, but could see nothing. However, when he looked at the portal’s reflection in the mirror, he suddenly realized he could see runes carved all around the edge of it.

“Wait a moment…” he said slowly. “I think I can do this. I can see runes on the archway. Give me a few minutes and I think I can reverse that ritual that he has been doing. It seems it’s much easier to close this portal than it is to open it.”

Elwanen, the only other person with experience in magical matters still in the room, concurred. “We were told the portal was locked closed a long while ago. Overcoming that closure would be like lifting a very heavy rock – if it’s not completed then it’s easy to slam it back down again and keep it there. Go ahead, Theron, I’ll assist if I can.” Theron nodded and began to chant arcane words of power, hesitantly at first but gaining in confidence.

With an eruption of necrotic energy and violent noise, a forest of tentacles emerged from the archway and stretched out towards the group. Yelling, Aran and Riam ducked underneath them, weapons back in hand. Cass swung hard with her axe, the magic that powered it bursting into flame. As they were stood further back, Theron and Elwanen avoided the attack, but Fangorn, stood right in front of the centre of the archway, was slow to react and instantly caught up. Pulsing, the tentacles began to drag him forwards, into the same oblivion that had earlier captured Kalarel.

Planting his feet and straining with all of his strength to hold off, Fangorn cried out in terror as a bitter cold began to spread through his body, draining his very essence from him.

DM's note: Joe, playing Sabbat Fau, is our usual scribe for this Story Hour - he sends the stories to me and I edit and repost them here. Unfortunately he missed a session, and so I've done my best to relate the story of what happened. I hope you like it, and I hope my players forgive me if I get anything wrong!

 

[La Bete]

From Tiny Acorns, Part 1 - the view from the trenches

With a horrific shriek, Kalarel was wrenched back through the portal by the hentai-tentacle demon, his screams presaging the eternity of torment his foul Master would subject him to. Only the desperate or insane ally themselves with Orcus, and only the foolish fail him.

"Righto" said Des. "Time to clean up and we're out of here. Nice backswing Cass - it's almost like you'd practised that!"

"Sounds good to me" agreed Fangorn - however the post-combat chit-chat was interrupted by a unearthly groan from Sabbat Fau - he had the mirror in one hand and had collapsed to one knee, pale (well, paler) and muttering to himself.

"Master - what ails you?" cried Splug in despair.

"The mirror, the mirror....." whispered Sabbat Fau "I have seen.... terrible things."

"No, master! Stay with Splug! You complete me!" sobbed the goblin, clutching Sabbat Fau's legs.

He has seen his doom, thought Elewanen. His trafficking with Outside will, eventually, result in the forfeiture of his sanity and his soul. Hmmm. I had best put my beers on his tab for a while.

Peering over Sabbat Fau's shoulder, Theron looked in the mirror - he could see nothing unusual, but peering at it closer runes, glowing with an unearthly light, were clearly visible around the edge of the portal - but were only visible by means of the mirror. "This must be the way of sealing the portal" shouted Theron "But these runes, I'm not familiar with them... I'm not sure..." he trailed off, brow furrowed in concentration.

Sigh, thought Elewanen. Humans. Such an inventive race, but really, when it comes to arcane mysteries, they really are better off sticking to what they are good at - such as brewing and prostitution - and leave the arcane arts to their betters.

Peering at the mirror, Elewanen and Theron worked on decoding the runes - Elewanen showing the benefits of an Eladrin education whenever Theron's simple mortal skill faltered. "Almost there... almost there.." said Theron "just one more minute..."

"Then lets get ready to get out of here - that roof isn't looking too stable.." fretted Aran noting the increasing about of shaking of the room, and the dust and earth beginning to shower the party.

"Has anyone checked for..." Fangorn was cut short as he gaped at the tentacles that had speared him through the chest - a veritable forest of tentacles had emerged from the portal - as if daring any of the heroes to interfere. Despite all his primal strength, Fangorn could feel himself being dragged closer to the portal.....

Our noble GM is far too objective about what went down. A proper recounting requires a more... personal touch.

As requested by Matt - the original cat scratchings notes:
[sblock]

Note - untranslatable sections are marked with a <> - sometimes with my best guess as to the contents. Sections edited due to inappropriate content are marked with [].

<Mach Stranling?>
Tentacoo-wape monster drags kal through portal
kal has bad day
Sabbat Fau looked in mirror and went white
(er)
<untranslatable>
Theron and me (insert supreriority) saw runes you can only see in mirror
these shutdown portal
Tentacoo-wape monster back
Fangorn [subjected to unwanted sexual advances of the bottom variety] by monster

[/sblock]

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

From Tiny Acorns, Part 2

The rest of the group moved with speed born of desperation. Cass and Riam helped to brace Fangorn in place, slowly his advance towards the portal, whilst Aran leapt up and sliced through a couple of the tentacles. In response, yet more tendrils burst from the black surface of the arch, lashing out and fastening on to the Treeforged. With a lurch, he was pulled forwards another step.

Elwanen drew his sword and moved forwards to assist, calling back to Theron “Chant faster!” Nodding, Theron picked up the pace of his incantation, gesturing with small, precise movements.

Fangorn could feel the chill spreading through his limbs. As the noise of the others started to recede, he could feel the flow of sap through his veins start to slow. Distantly, he became aware of the Heartstone – the magical artifact that had first sparked him into life. He knew now that a permanent connection had been forged between this fount of life and himself – a connection that the tendrils were seeking to capture and convert for their own use, to feed and grow more powerful.

Forcing his head to turn, he saw Elwanen closing in, ready to swing at the tentacles holding him. With an effort of will, Fangorn spoke one final time.

“The Heartstone – linked – don’t let them –“ Another step towards the portal, another tick off the clock of his life.

Elwanen paused only for a second. Looking into the eyes of his friend, he gripped his sword, Aecris, in both hands and swung in a smooth arc. The magical blade cut cleanly through the neck of Fangorn, and as his head separated from his body the connection, too, was severed. Fangorn’s body collapsed to the ground as the tendrils retracted instantly into the portal, their purpose defeated. The Thunderhammer sparked as it struck rock, falling and lying inert on the floor.

With a cry of triumph, Theron completed his spell and pointed at the archway. A single bolt of lightning sprang from his finger and crashed into the keystone. In a crackling mass of energy, the blackness within the archway slowly faded away, leaving only bare stone behind it. Panting from the exertion, the Wizard put his hands on his knees and leant forwards.

Cass stared down at the body of the creature she had only come recently to know. “What happened?” she said disbelievingly. “We could have kept him out if you’d let us.” Accusingly, she looked up at the Paladin, who now seemed more Fey than ever before, and she was struck by how different his very nature was from hers.

“I had to do it,” replied Elwanen, looking at her but speaking to all of them. “He told me that he could feel, well, whatever that was, that it was trying to reach the Heartstone through the link that he and it shared. If it had succeeded, that creature would have had access to a magical power of life and it could have sucked it dry. Think about how much power that represents. I had to sever the connection, and this was the only way to do it. I am sorry, Cass, but I had no choice.”

The normally cheery Aran saluted the fallen warrior with a sword, his face now unsmiling. “You fought a good fight, Fangorn,” he said. “We’ll remember you – and when I tell my stories your name, and your sacrifice, will be known and heard all through the world.”

As if in answer, the body of Fangorn quivered slightly, and then appeared to split open slightly. Jumping back and moving his shield to defend himself, Riam said “By Bane’s mailed fist! What the hell is this?”

Elwanen leant forwards carefully, keeping his sword in place. Peering inside the cracked shell of his former companion, he let out a cry of surprise. “There’s some sort of person in here!”

DM's note: Fangorn's player had requested to change over to a new character, and this was the idea I came up with for him. It fitted nicely into the campaign, it made sense, and it gave him a dramatic send-off, too.

Next time: Who is this mysterious stranger? Regular readers will probably have already worked it out...