The Liberation of Tenh (updated April 24)

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Coldeven 17, CY 593

27: Heroes, like their history, are named by the victors.

The plan is simple. Cmin will accompany Heydricus, Prisantha and Dabus. The four of them will attack the Iuzian forces, kill them all, and provide an opening for the remaining Knights of the High Forest to retreat. After all the Iuzians are sent to their new home in the Abyss, they will take Cmin back to the relative safety of Tenh.

Or as they say in the Great Kingdom "A bloodstain threatens no Rule of Law".

The four adventurers creep toward the ruined fort, and find it a simple affair, likely of orcish construction: A lone building surrounded by a palisade wall, now crumbling in places, the whole likely desecrated. A small tower is built out of one end of the roof, though it has certainly lost some of its higher levels to the ravages of time.

Preparatory spells are cast, Prisantha is stoneskinned, and the entire group is protected in a magic circle against evil.

Prisantha casts a message spell, allowing Cmine to stay in touch as she scouts ahead. The elven rogue uses this magical communication channel to report back her findings-several fat and complacent orcs are making a half-hearted attempt to patrol the walls. Likely, the Iuzians are waiting for nightfall to attack.

Prisantha calls out for Valor, her celestial hound archon friend, and summons him to the walls, near the orcish sentries. The celestial does what he does best, smiting orcish evil, and beating them off the walls. The sentries sound an alarm, and within seconds a band of ettins and trolls led by a pair of human mages are charging forth from the fortress.

Heydricus drinks a potion of flying, and snatches Prisantha in his arms, speeding for the compound's roof. He is met by Dabus (who has to climb the walls the old-fashioned way - oh, the indignity!), and by the time the giants and wizards have sent Valor back to his home, the Liberators are above them, raining spells down into their ranks.

If the ettins didn't like Heydricus' wand of fireballs, the trolls absolutely hate it, and they attempt to scrabble up the loose stone of the compound to get at the Liberators, but they are betrayed by faulty orcish craftsmanship, and huge chunks of the wall come loose in their grasping claws, foiling their attempt.

Too bad for the trolls, as they say hello to Heydricus' little friend. The rubbery beasts just can't take two fireballs a round from a hasted sorcerer with enough wand for everyone.

After the smoke clears, a pair of ettins almost make it to the front doors of the place before they are slain. The mages were barely able to get off a spell apiece, so taken in were they by their own blood-lust at the sight of a celestial.

Cmin (who is much better at climbing walls than the trolls were) makes her way to the roof, and the party is about to enter the tower at the back end of the place when the tower's wall is smashed open from the inside by a furious ettin who wields a pair of greataxes like hatchets! He charges Prisantha, laying in to her with a series of vicious swipes, and the popping noise as her stoneskin wards off the bulk of the damage sounds like rain on a brass roof.

Worse yet, this ettin is obviously a trained fighter, and he is using Halrim's Double Method, a school of fighting developed in the fallen Sheildlands, and shunned by honorable sword-masters (like Esril) for it's reliance on deception and low-blows.

As the ettin makes its charge, a more sinister figure emerges from the ruins. This winged abomination looks like a man who has consorted too long with nightmares and pain. His eyes are over-large and yellowed, and the light coating of scales along his back form into a pair of Abyssal wings that seem to be a patchwork of filthy feathers and sinew.

The half-fiend is hasted, and casts a pair of spells in succession with no visible effect. Both Heydricus and Cmin feel a powerful and hostile mental presence enter their minds, but suffer no noticeable consequences. Cmin maneuvers her way toward the fighting giant, and Heydricus readies himself to charge the fiendish sorcerer.

• Metagame Note: Heydricus and Cmin both failed saves against a domination spell, but as they were warded by a magic circle against evil, they are not subject to the feind's mental commands. This is, of course, a situation that will soon be remedied by the malicious spellcaster.

Dabus sizes up the situation, and summons a whirling field of invisible knife-like blades. His blade barrier shreds the legs of the ettin, and cut deeply into the fiend, forcing him to take flight on his frail-seeming wings.

Prisantha has had all of this giant she is willing to take, and levels an eyebite-fear spell at the brute's smarter-looking head. The creature obviously doesn't have a smart head, as both immediately gaze at the petite wizard with an expression normally reserved for Iuzian clergy-utter fear and revulsion. The ettin turns to flee, not even pausing to leap off of the roof, falling instead to the blood-and-fire stained battlefield on the ground below.

Heydricus flies forward and attacks the enemy sorcerer, but finds that the fiend is only partially present. One of his blows strikes true, however, and a thick ghastly ichor stains his blade.

The vile sorcerer responds by flying further away from the battlefield and targets the area with a dispel magic. His spell is successful, and within an instant Cmin and Heydricus are subject to his mental commands and sit placidly, watching as the cruel arcanist turns his attention to Pris.

"A taste of your own device, milady?" the thing croaks in a wretched mockery of courtly grace as it subjects the enchantress to a cone of fear. Prisantha suddenly comes to the conclusion that the only reasonable course of action would be to flee to the edge of the fortress, where she cowers and whimpers to herself.

Dabus is baffled by the strange behavior of his formerly staunch companions, but refuses to surrender. He produces a wand of his own, and attacks the flying fiend with a searing light burst, discovering, like Heydricus before him how difficult it can be to pierce this beast's magical defenses.

The sorcerer laughs at the land-bound cleric, and begins striking him with a series of enervations- each one weakening Dabus, and shattering the core of his faith with the cold touch of negative material energy.

Dabus refuses to give up the ghost and attempts to throw his spear at the creature, but when it bounces harmlessly off of the sorcerer's hide, Dabus says a silent prayer for those about to die, substituting his own name.

Strangely enough, the fiend laughs and flies down into the reach of Dabus' grasp, but only long enough to cast a pair of vampiric touch spells that suck the very soul's-blood from the weakened priest.

Dabus cries out, and with his last living act, grabs the fiend bodily and charges forward-hurling the both of them directly into the thick of the blade barrier. It is the final act of a hero, and one hopes that in his last seconds before being rent flesh from bone by his own spell, Dabus believes that his tactic worked.

Which, of course, it did not.

Bolstered by the life-force he drained from the cleric, the fiend staggers out from the blade-swarm and surveys his situation. In the distance, he can see his dim-witted giant companion shrugging off the fear effect and returning to his side. He orders his dominated thralls to remove their magic items, bind the cowering enchantress and bear her inside where he can ponder his plan of torture at his leisure.

-----

Next: The Liberators are defeated! Can they pull thier fat from the fire?

 

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Coldeven 18, CY 593

28: Wevenge, twue wevenge.

The three surviving Liberators are securely bound and stripped completely of wealth and weapons when it happens.

The fiend, who is consulting some sort of Iuzian torture-on-the-go field manual, looks up with a cross expression, and manages a sort of hiss as his vampiric touch spell expires. He seems to cave inward on himself just a bit, then a gash opens across his forehead. The fiend reaches up to dab at the wound when a half-dozen cuts appear on his body, followed by a dozen more, then another dozen, and suddenly the sorcerer is whirling in shock as he sprays his life's blood all over his dominated captives.

Dabus' final ploy worked, although the life force the foul fiend drained from him gave the sorcerer another hour of false security before the wounds of the blade barrier took effect.
With the domination instantly dispelled, Heydricus uses this opening to bluff the ettin.
"This is the fate of all who cross my arcane might! Even bound, I can kill your master with but a glance! Flee, wretch, before you suffer the same!"

The ettin seems to know what side his bread is bloodied on, and he takes to his heels instantly, but not before scooping up the portable hole with an entire adventuring party's worth of loot.

Bound hand and foot, the Liberators of Tenh watch the two headed beast trot off into the sunset with all their money, magic and gear.

-----

A few minutes pass, as Cmin struggles to wiggle free of the ropes she is tied with. Finally, Heydricus flexes his muscles and rips through his bonds, and swoops the still bound Cmin over his shoulder. He rushes out to the roof where he spots Prisantha, tied hand and foot where she was left cowering in fear, and within a moment, both of his companions are over his shoulders and the Holy Liberator of Tritherion is bounding down the stairs to the ground level.

After making quick work of the ropes tying Pris and Cmin, the Liberators creep out into the blood-stained paving-stones of the area outside the door and cautiously look over the scene of the previous hour's carnage.

It is surprising how cold the nor'easter blowing out of Dorakka can seem when you are completely without the comforting warmth of your magic items.

"The giant has my spell books and components," Prisantha says, suddenly realizing why that familiar weight was off of her hip.

"And my infiltration gear," Cmin says with a resigned sigh. "Thank Mayaheine we don't have to walk back to Tenh, right Pris?"

"My only teleport spell is on a scroll right now, in the giant's pouch," Pris says, and under her breath she adds, "I got a little lost on my first attempt."

"The giant has my weapons and armor of investiture," Heydricus states flatly. "We're going after it."

The group ransacks the bodies of the dead Iuzians for salvageable equipment, and prepares the new gear after cleaning as much of the blood and charred gobbets of troll flesh off of them as possible.

Prisantha's eyebite fear effect is undoubtedly still active on the ettin, but a brief mental inventory of her spells bears disheartening fruit. She has little offensive capability left, without her spell components. Charm person is available, but of little use against giants. Cmin is without her magical weapons or elven garments, and Heydricus, of course, feels practically naked without all of his clothes.

The ettin proves remarkably easy to track, even by the untrained eye. The bad news is that the beast's path is careful and sure, straight toward the road leading into Dorakka-a thoroughfare paved by slave labor, and built of stone mixed with the crushed bones of the innocent.

The ettin seems to have made for a sinister-looking way-tower looming over the highway like a diseased carrion bird. The group sends Cmin ahead to scout, and she makes her way into a position where she can spy on the interior of the place. Her report is grim. The party's quarry is in there all right, and he appears to be bargaining with the master of the place. They are speaking in Abyssal, and while Cmin's Abyssal isn't what it was while she was in school, she is still able to make out the gist of it: The ettin wants to trade Prisantha's spellbooks to the way-tower's master in exchange for the human's protection, and the loan of some troops. The troops in question are a half-dozen hill giants under the thrall of this wizard, billeted in the nearby woods.

In addition, the outpost itself has a few human fighter-types present as an official Dorakkan guard. (Or unofficial Dorakkan spies, things being what they are in the lands of Iuz.)

Cmin is confident that she can make it inside the place, if the group wants to stage an assault. Pris excitedly points out that her charm person spell will work on the wizard, if he can be drawn out.

Prisantha's message spell is still active, and Cmin is able to creep indoors and deliver an ongoing whispered commentary about what she sees there.

After the Iuzian negotiations threaten to break down into violence (as expected), the two negotiators finally reach an agreement. The ettin seems to have gotten the short end of the stick, thanks to the foot-in-mouth style of exchange favored by the left head. He delivers Prisantha's spellbooks as well as her arcane scrolls into the hands of the way-tower mage.

In the meantime, Prisantha and Heydricus have positioned themselves by the building's exit and await their opportunity.

It isn't long in the coming, as the wizard greedily hustles the ettin out the door, intending to introduce him to the hill giants (who are to then take the ettin half a fathom up the road, kill him, and deliver whatever other magical treasure the two-headed imbecile might have on him to the mage. Of course, the hill giants could smell a payday when they step in one, and would abscond with the loot, leaving the mage alone in the way-tower with the four fighters, two of whom are actually hired killers sent by the mage's superiors in Dorakka to torture and assassinate him). Luckily for some, and unluckily for others, the mage and ettin do not quite make it out of the door before they spot Prisantha.

The Enchantress of Verbobonc tosses the evil duo her most fetching grin, and winks slowly.

All at once, the ettin screeches out a two-toned peal of fear reminiscent of a halfling schoolgirl confronting her first mouse in the temple's cloakroom. As the giant shoves him aside (the better to flee at full speed away from Pris), the Iuzian mage gathers his robes about his waist, and slinks toward Prisantha, offering her his best courtly smile and bow, muttering something about ". . . sure we've met before. Do you attend the end-of-year bonfires?"

"Ah, charmed, I'm sure," Pris replies as the Iuzian (who introduces himself as Durmer) sloppily kisses her hand. "But make haste sir," Pris continues, with a sense of urgency in her voice, "that foul giant hoped to betray you. You are lucky I arrived in time."

And then things go downhill for the fleeing ettin. The mage turns toward his hill giant retinue, now stumbling from the nearby wood to investigate the commotion, and commands them to kill the two-headed giant. A Large-Sized footrace ensues, and Heydricus flies to the hill giant's aid, casting magic missiles at the ettin. Eyebitten or no, the ettin isn't about to go down without a fight, and he turns to confront the half-dozen hill giants bent on his murder. The ensuing melee is brief and vicious, and when the blood sprays clear, there is one less academy-trained ettin fighter in the world.

Heydricus makes sure to snatch the portable hole off of the fallen giant, and removes several of the group's magic items that the beast had equipped himself with.

"Ah," the Iuzian mage coos, "your lackey returns with our spoils my dear. Shall we retire to my chambers and . . . divide our loot?"

"Lackey?" Heydricus says to himself as he flies to Prisantha's side.

"Of course," Pris says in her best imperious tone. "Heydricus, inside with you."

"Heydricus . . . that name seems familiar," the mage says.

"It should," Heydricus says as he shuts the door on the hill giants, who are still mustered outside, poking at the ettin's corpse, perhaps hoping for more sport. "Because after all," Heydricus says as he unsheathes his sword, "I killed Zinvellon at the Temple of Elemental Evil!"

The mage gasps. All of his years of service in Iuz' armies, and to be taken in by the most basic of treacheries!

Heydricus cleaves the mage once, then twice, as the fellow reaches into his pouches and backs away, scalding the Holy Liberator with a burst of lightning from his fingertips.

At the sound of the lightning bolt, Cmin springs from her hiding place in the tower's upper level, and sneak attacks one of the guards stationed there, and then runs down the stairs into the main chamber of the ground floor.

Prisantha readies her spell components as best she can, but has no real need of them, for wizards are just not built to withstand surprise attacks from skilled swordsmen-the Iuzian perishes swiftly, his final curse dying on his lips.

The three surviving guardsmen exchange a round of missile fire before realizing that their goose is cooked, its liver already made into foie gras and served on herbed toast to the Liberators of Tenh.

The guardsmen surrender their cause with an alacrity that would shame even a Sheildlander Knight.

Cmin relieves them of their weaponry while Heydricus and Prisantha sort through the portable hole and reacquaint themselves with their lost equipment.

A short overland trek later, and Dabus' body is in the portable hole, and the group is teleported without any trouble to Tritherion's Grand Temple at Chendl. Heydricus petitions Halrond to return Dabus to the living, should his soul and its Lord be willing.

At the least, the Liberators will have one more night to sleep in comfort before returning to the fight in Tenh.

-----

Next: Hail, hail-- the gang's all here!

 

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Coldeven 19, CY 593

29: Practice Makes Perfect

The next morning, Heydricus and Halrond examine the body of Dabus, the fallen cleric’s skin flayed from his bones by his own spell. Halrond tells Heydricus that as a Holy Liberator, the onus of petitioning for the return of Dabus’ life must fall to Heydricus, as he is both Dabus’ field commander and his spiritual mentor.

While Heydricus is guided through the purification ritual and fasting, Prisantha teleports to the Academy of Magic, to speak with her associates there, and check in. In the library, she encounters Gwendolyn, her rival and all around unpleasant wizardess.

Gwendolyn, is as usual, dressed to the nines in the height of courtly fashion, and she sniffs disdainfully as she regards Prisantha’s battle torn and sweat-stained clothing.

“You’ve been . . . busy, I see,” Gwendolyn says through a stiff smile.

“Yes,” Pris replies. “We’ve been fighting Iuzians. And quite successfully I might add. Yourself?”

Never one to back down from a contest of one-upmanship and name-dropping, Gwendolyn says, “Oh, I’ve been working very closely with the Council of Four. Thrommel’s dead, haven’t you heard, and the search for a suitable successor has become paramount. In fact, I daresay it’s the issue facing our Kingdom, and I’m honored to have been hand-picked by the Four to lead the search.”

“Facinating,” Pris says.

“Yes. It really is. I’ve been spending quite a bit of time in the South with the Baron Butrain.”

“Oh, I know him,” Prisantha says. “In fact, I was just there myself, as it happens.”

“Really,” Gwendolyn sniffs. “Well. I myself just returned from an evening at the theatre there. Butrain is quite the patron of the arts, you know.”

“Yes. We took in a play together,” Pris snaps back.

“As did we. Of course, we saw the new show.”

“Yes, the Seven Halfling Brothers. Butrain took me to opening night. He must have really enjoyed the performance, to go a second time with you.”

Score one for the Enchantress of Verbobonc. Chastised, Gwendolyn takes a tense farewell, shooting daggers at Pris with her eyes as she goes.

That evening, Pris relives more carefree days, falling asleep studying in the library as was her custom over the long Summer of peace. She dozes at her study desk in the library, four books open around her, and if no one notices that the one directly in front of her is A Handbook of Ladylike Fashion, by the Viscountess Trill, it is because Pris has slipped the book inside a larger tome, Fundamental Principles of Transubstantive Drift, revised third edition.

Heydricus, meanwhile has been left to his vigil over the body of Dabus in Halrond’s personal chapel. As he prays and meditates, Heydricus is struck by the sensation of dampness about his feet and knees. Opening his eyes, he sees that the small chamber is rapidly flooding with water. He wets his fingers, and tastes the liquid—saltwater.

In a dream-like haze, the room fills with an ocean swell, and the walls of the place seem to fade out to the horizon and disappear, leaving Heydricus floating in a sea not of this world. A large shape appears in the distance, breaking the surface again and again, each time drawing closer. Then suddenly, Heydricus is confronted by the maw of a massive sea-serpent that swallows him whole in one ferocious attack!

As the Liberator of Tenh descends into the belly of the beast, he is filled with an unusual sensation—at once comforting and overwhelming.

A voice wells up from the depth of Heydricus’ being, and echoes in his mind. “I am your father, and your mother. I am your child and your sibling. I am your nation, your liege-- and all your loyalty is due to me. What you are, I made you. What you have, I gave you. What you do, I set you to. Name Me, Heydricus and Know Me.”

“You are my Lord Tritherion, my God,” Heydricus replies.

“What would you have of Me, Heydricus Tritherionson?”

“I would have a brave fighter returned to my side, Lord. I would have his spell and arm fight with me against our enemy. Now, more than ever, we need him in the world.”

“What you ask of Me cannot be done, Heydricus. A pact was made before the essence of you was created. Those of my clergy who die in honorable combat against tyranny are to be set above all others in My realm. Dabus sits at my right hand, and I cannot break my vow.”

Heydricus is crestfallen.

“Yet you please Me, Heydricus, so I will do this great thing for you; I will set time back, and return you to the morning before your battle. If you can face your foes honorably, and retain his life, he is yours.”

“You honor me, Great One,” Heydricus says.

“And because you are Mine, I will tell you this—beware, for your enemies are multiplied, and they have discovered the knowledge of one another.”

And with that, Heydricus finds himself standing in the mines of Cur’ruth, looking over Pris’s shoulder, as she scrys C’mine.

This time around, Prisantha’s first teleport is successful, and they arrive several hours earlier than they had the last time they lived through this day.

C’min is as surprised to see them the second time as she was the first, and her sword leaps from her scabbard before she recognizes her old friends. She is tending the wounds of her feverish and delirous companion, but this time the fallen Knight of the High Forest is not yet dead. Heydricus introduces Dabus, and the priest of Tritherion heals the dying knight.

Of everyone in the dingy tent, only Heydricus and Prisantha realize that they have been here before.

Heydricus briefs C’mine on the happenings since she took her position with the High Forest Knights, and surprises her with his knowledge of the fell sorcerer that has been dogging her heels, playing with her small band like a cat with a mouse.

Surprised, C’mine says, “You know much Heydricus.”

“More than I can tell you, my old friend,” is his reply.

C’mine, the former Hero of the Temple of Elemental Evil becomes a Liberator of Tenh in that moment, as the four adventurers plan their assault. This time, they intend to take full advantage of their surprise.

Preparatory spells are cast, and the adventurers fly invisibly toward the Iuzian encampment in the ruined keep. Heydricus carries Prisantha in his arms, apparently oblivious to her new glamorous hairstyle, and the fashionable cut of her new adventuring blouse.

The group’s invisible movement is unnoticed by a pair of eyes belonging to a severed head that lies on the damp ground, concealed among the rocks a few yards from the elven encampment.

They steal up onto the roof, and are shocked to hear an otherworldly and anguished moaning emanating from within the place. Shivers of dread worm their way through the nerves of the battle-hardened adventurers. Of the trio, only Heydricus and C’mine have heard a more fearsome noise—the banshee’s wail that ended Heydricus’ first life in the Temple of Elemental Evil.

They press on, creeping into the ruined tower, and as they descend the stairs into the keep proper, a bizarre and terrible sight unfolds before them.

The main hall of the keep is pitted and crumbling, and most of the interior walls have collapsed. The few walls that remain are little more than chest-high to a giant, although the ceiling is unusually tall for an orcish fortress.

The horrible wailing is coming from a spectral being, dressed in ancient orcish tribal regalia, and it is kneeling before a broken shield on the ground. The shield radiates a Bright and Pure light, and the apparition is crying out in anguish as it is repeatedly forced to place its hands into and through the Holy shield.

The feindish sorcerer is standing in front of his spectral victim, his filthy wings opening and closing rhythmically as he clutches a wicked-looking barbed medallion and concentrates on his torture.

The sorcerer’s ettin bodyguard stands behind him, one head keeping an eye on the room, the other smirking at the spectre’s pain.

C’mine is the first to react, opening the festivities with a pair of shots from her bow that strike the fiendish sorcerer just below the ribs and directly into his shoulder-joint on his right side, crippling him.

The ettin is quick to defend his master, launching a devastating volley of thrown javelins with both hands, striking C’mine to the ground, and wounding Dabus.

But not wounding him enough to disrupt his holy smite.

A wave of Tritherion’s Virtue cascades through the area, heartening the Liberators, and scattering their foes. The spectre, freed from its bondage, wisps away into the darkness, while the fiendish sorcerer screeches an altogether inhuman litany of unholy curses.

Curses that rapidly degenerate into child-like Abyssal babbling as the fiend is feebleminded by Pris.

Heydricus leaps forward to strike at the half-fiend, and cuts him deeply twice. As the sorcerer falls to the ground and shudders in his death-convulsions, Heydricus takes his guard position with his Spear of Tritherion, readying himself to meet the charge of a half-dozen ettins and four trolls rushing the group from the other end of the compound. Unfortunately for the giants, they charge directly into the path of a blade barrier, courtesy of Dabus.

Things go downhill for the Iuzians from there, with several of their number forced back into the blade barrier by Prisantha’s magical compulsions, and when the dust clears, the day has played itself out quite differently from the first encounter. This time, the Liberators of Tenh have achieved a resounding victory, and have very little of their own blood to show for it.

As the group is picking through the remains of their fallen foes, they notice a strange sight—the severed head that was positioned near the elven camp is hovering over the body of the half-fiend sorcerer, muttering to itself in Abyssal. Its face was never handsome in life, but in undeath, the head’s normally gaunt features are uniquely horrific. His face is heavily lacerated and small bits of jagged metal are driven into the skin and bones, at the pain centers of the face. In addition, the skull is pierced through the back of the cranium with a wicked-looking spike of dull black metal.

Heydricus, ever the friendly sort, strikes up a conversation with the head, who introduces himself as Misath, a former lieutenant in Iuz’s elite Dorrakan Irregulars sentenced to this horrific state for Insubordination in the Face of the Enemy.

Misath is appropriately humble, and expresses what must pass for gratitude in his mind for the Liberators having, well . . . liberated him from his bondage to the half-fiend. Apparently, Misath is looking forward to re-establishing himself as a Very Important Head in the Iuzian ranks, hoping to become the commanding officer of an internment camp.

The Liberators let the thing go about its way, and Misath implies that someday they might meet again, when the Marklands have finally fallen under the Indomitable Tyranny of Iuz.

The group returns to Chendl with C’mine in tow, and they brief her on the happenings of the last few months. She gladly offers to join the cause in Tenh, and pledges whatever support she might be able to give.

While the four heroes are relaxing in the noonday sun, newly clean and enjoying fresh figs and summer wine, a young acolyte of Tritherion interrupts them, explaining that a message has been delivered for Heydricus, Prisantha, and Jespo Crim.

“Dearest friends,” it begins.

“Consider this note a friendly reminder from your former compatriots. Your ties to life make you vulnerable through your effeminate attachment to sentiment. Surrender yourselves to our clutching gloom, and spare your loved-ones any unnecessary suffering.

“Make yourselves seen, and come unarmed, why don’t you? Your families, of course, will thank you for it.

“Best regards,

“Anton, et al.”

-----
Next: Family Day for the Liberators.

 

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Coldeven 20, CY 593

30: Practice Makes Perfect

While the other Liberators were smashing Iuzian forces near Dorraka, Jespo Crim has been slowly but surely teleporting Heydricus’ new followers from the Temple of Tritherion in Chendl to the mines of Cur’ruth. This day, as he makes his morning trip to Chendl, he is called into a meeting-room off Halrond’s personal wing.

There he finds Halrond, Heydricus, Prisantha, C’mine and Dabus, standing about a mantle, drinking mulled wine and exchanging stern expressions.

“If this is about my words with that Tenha, Heydricus, I will thank you to remember who voted for you to be resurrected in the Temple.” Jespo shoots a look at Prisantha. “It wasn’t unanimous, you know.”

“Jespo, do you have any family in the Marklands?” Halrond asks.

“I am an only child, sir, not that it is any business of yours. My mother passed away from grief when I enrolled in Summoners’ school, and my father is not known to me.”

“Jespo, the Iuzians are threatening to hurt our families,” Prisantha says.

“But we’re going to stop them,” Heydricus chimes in.

“The same rascals who attacked me?” Jespo asks.

“The same,” Heydricus says.

“Dastardly,” Jespo states. “Have I told you, Dabus, how I defended myself from the concentrated assault of four of the fiends?”

Dabus regards Jespo with an even gaze, and then turns to Heydricus. “If Crim can defeat four of them on his own, perhaps we should just equip Prisantha’s grandmother with an enchanted cudgel and be done with it.”

Before Jespo can retort, Heydricus tells him to remain here at the Temple until further notice. Heydricus, Dabus and Prisantha will teleport to Hommlet and secure the safety of Prisantha’s relatives, then the Liberators of Tenh will take the battle to the Cadaverous Ones, and Tritherion willing, settle the matter once and for all.

Hommlet here we come. But Prisantha’s teleport spell mis-fires, and the trio find themselves standing knee-deep in threshed grain, just outside of a farmhouse somewhere very far to the South, judging by the sun.

“Gods above Prisantha, when will you learn this spell?” Heydricus exclaims.

“It is an inexact science, I’ll have you know. Now be quiet and show some respect. I am not one of your fawning minions, Heydricus.”

Dabus opens his mouth to protest, but is interrupted by Prisantha’s second teleport. This time, they find themselves standing on top of a baking-table in a farmhouse kitchen. A young dairymaid is standing in the doorway, a basket full of eggs in her arms, staring open-mouthed at the trio of adventurers.

The scene is still for a moment, and then the table collapses, sending a cloud of flour into the air. The dairymaid screams and drops her eggs, which shatter on the floor.

“Damn your fumble-fingered teleports!” Heydricus screeches.

“I’d like to see you try the spell!” Prisantha snaps back. “Do you suppose it is easy?”

“My armor! I’m covered in flour!” Dabus complains.

The dairy-maid faints.

-----

One teleport scroll later, the three heroes appear in the yard of Prisasntha’s grandparents.

“. . . if I had!” Heydricus is shouting.

“As if you’d know!” Prisantha shouts back. “That does it! I’m not speaking to you!”

“Is someone talking, Dabus?” Heydricus asks. “I thought I heard a voice.”

“Grandma!” Prisantha yells, “you’re all right!”

Pris’ matronly grandmother is standing in the farmhouse’s doorway. “Pris, honey? Is that you?”

“Gran, how would you like to come with us?” Pris asks.

“What? Where? I couldn’t.”

“It’ll be a vacation,” Heydricus says pushing past the old lady into the house, “where’s your husband?”

“But I don’t want a vacation,” the old woman says. “I can’t afford it,”

“I can Gran, let’s pack your things.”

Heydricus comes back to the porch. “We’ll put you up in the Temple of Tritherion, and you can have mulled wine served to you all day by the acolytes. It’s great, you’ll love it. Let’s go.”

“But, what about my things?” the old woman protests.

“We’ll buy you new ones,” Pris says.

“What about the farm?”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Heydricus says.
Meanwhile, Dabus, who has been examining the back of the farmhouse, returns and stands in front of the confused old woman. “Ma’am, have you seen any sign of the Iuzian assassins?”

Grandma faints.

-----

Before they teleport back to Chendl, Prisantha leaves the following note on her grandparents’ kitchen table:

“Anton, et al,

“You probably won’t be around to read this, but just in case, we will meet your challenge and defeat you once and for all. You always were a poor excuse for a sorcerer. I never did like your lousy fireballs, and I intend to make you pay for threatening our loved ones.

Prisantha”

-----

Upon their return, grandma and grandpa Pris are billeted in luxurious quarters, and assigned acolytes to see to their needs. The Liberators gather together to discuss their next move.

“It’s simple,” Heydricus says, “I will make myself visible in a public place, and when they take the bait, we kill them all.”

“That’s right,” Jespo says. “I killed him once and I can do it again. Daern.

“Daern, indeed.”

-----
Next: A reunion for the Heroes of the Temple, courtesy of Iuz!

 

[(contact)]

Coldeven 21, CY 593

31: The Liberators Make A Public Scene

The Conquering Hero is the name of Chendl's most famous statue and piazza, after the apocryphal founder of the city. The fact that the sculpture in the center of the square is actually a portrait of the sculptor's nephew (who later cuckolded him, then was murdered for his trouble) and was intended to represent the Great Kingdom's heroic past, is a fact lost on the throng gathering here to soak up the morning sun.

Several wineries and bistros face onto the piazza, and the Liberators of Tenh are sitting in them, spaced out around the square, either invisible or in disguise. Heydricus, however sits casually and undisguised on the base of the Conquering Hero, sipping from a flask of wine, and cleaning his fingernails.

High overhead, Heydricus' hawk familiar circles and watches the street traffic, looking for old companions. After an hour or so, Heydricus receives a telepathic communication warning him that a group of heavily armed former Heroes of the Temple are racing through the crowd, bearing down on the piazza.

"Here they come, be ready," Heydricus relays to Pris through a message spell. Prisantha passes the warning on to Cmin, Dabus and Jespo Crim.

"I see them," Jespo says. It is Augustin, with Tisha . . . that must be Egil, he has no face left. There's Lady Amyryth and that one girl, the fighter . . . er, the one who was rended to bits by the fiend."

"Which one that was rended to bits by a fiend?" Heydricus asks.

"The tall one, kind of quiet-she adventured with us right before the sacking of Knulb."

"Esril?" Prisantha asks.

"No, not Esril. The other one. Brown hair, not too tall,"

"Amyryth?" Pris asks.

"No, not Amyryth, the other one. You know, um . . ."

"The one with the flaming sword?" Heydricus asks.

"Yes, that's her! Daern! What is her name?"

"I know," Pris says, "Daniella! Or, Darleena."

"Oh, Daniere!" Heydricus says, "I remember her!"

"Yes, that's the one," Jespo says.

"She wasn't killed by a fiend, Jespo", Pris says.

"Yes she was."

"No she wasn't. She was killed by giants."

"No, no. You're thinking of Keriann."

"Am I?"

"I think so, Pris," Heydricus says. "Daniere was the one who . . ." But Heydricus' is interrupted by a sickening sensation, felt deep in his marrow- the tell-tale discomfort of an unhallow spell.

"Tritherion's blade, they are upon us!" Heydricus yells.

As he does so, a pair of arrows whiz by his head, flying far wide of the burly sorcerer. For a moment, Heydricus thinks he has been targeted by an errant archer, until the arrows sink into nearby citizens, provoking screams from the crowd.

"Poison!" an old woman yells! They've killed Kendry. You . . ."

The next few seconds are an absolute chaos, as people begin to flee from the square, grabbing possessions and loved ones as they go. Heydricus leaps to his feet. "Hold your positions!" he yells to his companions, sussing out the Iuzian's strategy-to draw the Liberators from their hiding places by murdering innocents. Heydricus snaps his sword from his scabbard, and scans the crowd. He locks eyes with a familiar figure-Sister Keriann, once a nun of St. Cuthbert, now something . . . other.

The old woman smiles and clutches a calcified humanoid forearm, swinging it like a mace.

Jespo Crim swiftly leaps to his feet, overturning his fruit and cheese plate, and summons a pack of celestial wolves into the path of the Iuzains charging the piazza.

Prisantha steps out from behind a doorway, and casts a stoneskin upon herself, as Dabus counters the Iuzians unhallow with a hallow spell of his own.

Heydricus hears an anguished cry from behind him, and wheels in time to notice a jolly looking halfling standing over the crumpled body of the old woman, Kendry's mother, his dagger buried between her shoulder blades. The halfling cheerfully waves at Heydricus and smiles a cherubic smile, at once familiar and frightening.

"Hullo, Heydricus," Pippin chirps. "How've you been?"

A trio of magic missiles arc into the golden-haired sorcerer in that moment, as Anton Rex shimmers into view on an adjoining balcony.

Little Leaf, of course, remains behind his snipers blind, covering Lucius Maturin as the undead assassin moves unseen into position behind Prisantha.

On the other side of the square, the charge of Augustin, Egil, Lady Amyryth, Tisha and Old What's Her Name runs full into a swarm of summoned monsters, as Jespo frantically calls more celestial aid to the fray.

Cmin creeps into position nearby, awaiting the first Iuzian to reach the plaza, hoping to deliver a sneak attack. Unfortunately for her, the Iuzian is Egil, and the undead monster is not fooled by her concealment, and strikes her twice, forcing her to retreat.

Tisha sends bolts of lightning through the summoned monsters as Daniere and Lady Amyryth open a path for Augustin to leap upon Jespo Crim.

But the wily conjurer has an ace up his sleeve, in the form of a hound archon he summons directly in front of the Fallen paladin. The archon wounds Augustin, but is cut down a moment later. Fortunately, the archon buys Jespo Crim enough time to flee.

Meanwhile, Heydricus leaps at Pippin, smiting the halfling mightily, forcing the diminuative dead rogue into an altogether unfair fight. By the time Keriann can reach the brawl, Pippin is no more.

Dabus targets Anton Rex with a burst from his wand of searing light, and the red-robed invoker bursts into flame.

As this is happening, the summoned wolves at the East end of the square, take Tisha to the ground, and rip her throat from her undead body.

Prisantha finishes her personal protection, just as Lucius Maturin steps out from the shadows and attempts to bury a poisoned blade into the base of her neck. The weapon bounces harmlessly off of Prisantha's toughened hide, and is followed an instant later by a pair of arrows from Little Leaf.

Lucius turns to flee, but is thwarted by a web called into being from Prisantha's fingertips. The nimble assassin leaps free of the web, but Little Leaf is forced from his hiding place, and stumbles, falling to the ground. Dabus seizes his opportunity to flame strike the undead elf, destroying him utterly.

Heydricus turns to face Sister Keriann, and the two exchange blows, but it soon becomes obvious that deprived of her back-up, she is no match for the golden-haired Liberator of Tritherion.

"This is unnecessary, and moot, Heydricus," the matronly undead croaks. "You would be the greatest among us, should you submit to the Gift."

Heydricus considers a reply, but determines that the best answer for that kind of offer is usually an overwhelming burst of violence, which he supplies.

Dabus races toward the sound of Jespo Crim's frightened screeching, and confronts Augustin. As the two face one another, they lock eyes, calling upon the might of their respective deities. Augustin is wreathed by a shimmering black null-light, as Dabus grows to twice his normal size.

Cmin, meanwhile, is playing cat-and-mouse with Egil, ducking under tables and trying to catch the fighter with an unexpected blow.

Prisantha looses sight of Lucius, a worrying prospect as the assassin ducks inside the opening to a bath house. She summons a celestial lion to hunt him, and glances over her shoulder in time to see Heydricus striking Keriann to the ground.

Dabus leaps toward Augustin, and after a moment is joined by Heydricus and Pris. The three Liberators attack Augustin and Egil, and are successful enough to bring Jespo Crim out from under the overturned table he was hiding behind.

"Ha, ha!" he yells, "take that you fiend!"

A moment later, Pris' celestial lion shambles over, dejectedly shaking its mane. Lucius is gone. Only Daniere and Lady Amyryth remain in the fight, but they do not last long against the combined might of the Liberators. Cmin' is discovered unconscious, slumped over an overturned chair. Fortunately, she is still alive, despite Egil's worst intentions.

As the Liberators gather themselves, Heydricus reminds the group that the undead regenerate, and begins to gather the bodies. Pris and Dabus make a quick search of the bathouse, only to confirm what they already suspected: Lucius Maturin is gone.

After the bodies are gathered, whatever healing can be delivered is given to the citizens of Chendl. Shortly thereafter, men and women of the day watch arrive on the scene, and the Liberators are confronted by one very frightened and angry Watch Captain.

He orders his men to gather the bodies, but Heydricus informs him that the corpses will be taken to the Temple of Tritherion, instead. This provokes a tirade from the captain that produces as much spittle as bluster, and he orders the Liberators arrested.

Before Jespo can yell "You'll never take me alive-I ain't goin' back to jail," Prisantha steps forward.

One mass suggestion later, the heroes are loading the still-unmoving undead carcasses into a wagon, helpfully provided by the magically compliant Watch Captain.

When they reach the Temple to Tritherion, and take the bodies onto Holy ground, the undead melt like ice in the hot sun, disappearing before the eyes of the bedraggled adventurers.

-----
Next: The Liberators get a new accountant!

 

[(contact)]

Coldeven 22, CY 593

32: Back to the Mines

The next morning, the Liberators gather in the temple’s palatial meditation room, to scry the Provost Marshall Reine.

They discover that he is alive, and apparently kept drugged in what looks to be a common root cellar. Heydricus, Prisantha and Dabus ready themselves for a fight, then teleport to the scene.

But there is no fight to be had, and Dabus heals Reine, clearing his system of the sopoforic. Reine stirs and regards the party with a frightened expression.

“Relax, Provost Marshall,” Heydricus says. You are safe now. We need you to remain quiet, and stay here.” The group cautiously searches the farmhouse above the cellar, only to find it empty. After a brief journey outside, they discover that they are in the South of Furyondy, within walking distance of Willip, and the estate of Baron Butrain.

“Let’s pay a visit to the Baron, shall we?” Heydricus says.

When they arrive at Butrain’s keep, they are informed by the seneschal that Butrain is meeting with emissaries from Chendl’s Great School of Magic, and after a short wait, the Baron arrives, with none other than Gwendolyn herself in tow.

The unpleasant wizardess looks shocked to see the group, and regards Prisantha with a poisonous gaze.

The party tells the Baron of their recent battles with Iuzian undead, and warns him that a dangerous cell might be operating out of Willip. They are underwhelmed by the Baron’s seeming lack of interest in this news, and another argument begins about his lack of support for Furyondy’s war with the Old One.

Before direct accusations can be leveled, Heydricus diplomatically ends the meeting, and the Liberators teleport back to Chendl, with the Provost Marshall in tow.

Dabus and C’min are dispatched to search Reine’s home, and return with dark news.

“There’s no sign of his wife or daughter, Heydricus,” Dabus says, keeping his voice low so that Reine cannot overhear him, as the Provost Marshall’s soft sobbing can be heard from the next room. Dabus pauses, and says, “there was a lot of blood, Heydricus.”

“We’ll need to scry them, Dabus,” Heydricus replies. “Get Prisantha, and . . .”

“No, Heydricus, I don’t think you understand. There was a lot of blood.”

-----

Reine is left to whatever consolation the priests of Tritherion can give him, and that afternoon, Heydricus, Prisantha and Dabus pay a visit to King Belvor to update him on the situation.

Heydricus assures the King that the Iuzian undead have been dealt with, or as he gleefully puts it, “we killed them all, sir. We killed the s--t out of them.”

Belvor congratulates the heroes, and points out that while he is truly sorry for Reine’s loss, the Provost Marshall simply cannot go missing for any amount of time, and while he was gone, his office was filled. Permanently. Reine is now the ex-Provost Marshall Commerce for Chendl.

“Well, Heydricus,” Prisantha says, “we do have an opening for an accountant.”

Arrangements are made to ferry the newly resurrected Prince Thrommel to the Temple of Tritherion, and from there, the Prince is to be taken to Tenh, far from the eyes of his enemies, and placed under the protection of the Liberators. Hopefully, while there, he can sow his adventuring oats and not be killed. The King repeats that phrase: Not. Be. Killed.

Prisantha gifts her grandparents with 500 gp, enough for them to buy out the Paddyfoot halflings and further expand the family farm. Halrond assigns several junior clerics to guard the farm, to ensure that no further Iuzian deprivations take place.

------

And so it is that C’min, Jespo Crim, Prince Thrommel and the former Provost Marshall Reine join the ranks of the Liberators of Tenh.

When he is informed of the new additions to the roster, Jespo is less than pleased.

“Reine?” He sputters. “That backstabbing, unprincipled rapscallion! Absolutely not! Have you forgotten so soon who had me imprisoned?”

Jespo is eventually calmed, and assured that Reine was merely a puppet, played for a fool by the conspirators against Thrommel, and has suffered greatly. Fräs and Jespo argue vehemently, and in the end, Jespo looses the point. Reine is to be given quarters in the mines at Cur’ruth, and set to oversee the mine’s finances. Jespo pouts, but acquiesces.

When they return to the mines, the group lays out a basic strategy: Prisantha wishes to take several months off to research new spells and create her dream item: a crystal ball of true seeing. Heydricus will take the time to organize his troops, bring in new recruits, and assess the military situation in Tenh. In the meantime, Jespo Crim and Dabus will undertake the task of adding enchantments to Heydricus’ spear—his symbol of investiture from Tritherion.

C’min and Elijah will take the time to thoroughly scout the area surrounding the mines of Cur’ruth.

But upon their arrival, they are greeted with yet another mystery. A note from Tau has been left for Heydricus. In his note, Tau discusses his recent investigations around the mines of Tenh.

• From chapter 23: “Tau shifts the group into the border etheric in order to search for hidden chambers. They find a recessed shrine to the Flan pantheon that somehow escaped the notice of the occupying Iuzian priests. In the shrine, Tau is overjoyed to discover a fully-intact book on Flan folk worship, dating back hundreds of years!”

Tau has been thoroughly reading the book, and is troubled to discover that there is mention of a God he has never heard of—a minor Flan deity devoted to Knowledge, Order and Law. The fact that Tau, as a specialist in Comparative Sacrilegious Faiths for the Libraries of Wintershiven has never before encountered this deity is troubling.

As part of his investigation, Tau searched the mines from top to bottom, and found an unusual depression on the cliff directly above the mines. He grew convinced that the depression once contained a third statue—similar to the pair of massive sculptures that flank the opening to the mines of Cur’ruth. What happened to it is unknown. There is no sign of either an excavation or collapse.

To add fuel to the mystery, the Tenha at Cur’ruth claim no knowledge of the statues’ origin, purpose or symbolism. The Aital, spiritual leader of the Tenha, has been no help. She was unaware of the existence of the hidden worship chambers in the mines, indicating that they must be older than even the mining operations in this place.

Tau had since determined that more research was the key, and returned to the only place he knew to undertake the project, the Libraries of Wintershiven.

As she ponders these events, Prisantha is struck with a sobering thought: why would a powerful cleric like Tau need to research in a library when he could use divinations to gain answers? Her conclusion is that Tau must not have access to his higher-level spells, a sure sign of Pholtus’ displeasure with His cleric.

-----
Next: The Liberators begin projects, and get a little Spring Cleaning done . . . bloodily!

 

[(contact)]

Planting 27, CY 593

33: Bigger is Better

The Growfest holiday comes and goes, and a full month passes as the Mines of Cur'ruth slowly transform into a war-camp, under Heydricus' direction. Elijah and C'min return several weeks after the beginning of their scouting mission to report that they have spotted a giant-sized wooden fortress nestled into the mountains that overshadow Cur'ruth. Prisantha cannot be disturbed from her studies, and Heydricus protests that he must oversee the organization of his fledgling army.

Elijah is called forward to assemble a strike-team to explore this gigantic stronghold, and deal with any threat it might represent. Elijah selects C'min to help her scout, and the two of them call out Dabus, Jespo Crim and Thrommel for fighting support.

As the group travels up into the mountains, toward the wooden fortress, they encounter a man-made trail. Man-made if men were ten feet tall, that is. Elijah informs the group that the trail leads in two directions, deeper into the mountains and directly toward the hidden fortress. The fact that giants made the trail is obvious to all.

Elijah and C'min break off from the rest of the group to follow the giants' trail toward the fortress and have a closer look. A half hour or so after they leave, the remaining heroes hear the sound of booming giantish voices engaged in some sort of debate approaching from the opposite direction.

Before the Liberators can fully ready themselves, four huge brute-men have appeared through the trees. These foul-smelling reprobates seem genuinely surprised (and perhaps a bit amused) to see the adventurers. Most likely, none of them could clearly articulate their visceral joy, or the childlike giddiness they feel when imagining the Medium-Sized head wounds that are soon to come.

Of course, they never get the opportunity to record these last moments of life for posterity, as the Liberators rarely transcribe their enemies' dying words.

The smartest giant of the group holds up his hand to tell his companions bide a moment, while he searches these unknown humans for markings that would signify them as servants of Iuz. After a brief pause, the giant is satisfied that these adventurers are truly strangers, and therefore fair game.

But by this time, the Liberators have their wits about them, and Jespo Crim conjures a field of writhing black tentacles that grow from the ground and entangle the giants, constricting their torsos and legs. One of the giants bursts free, and is met by Prince Thrommel (who, save for the fact he stumbled upon an exposed root, would have certainly charged into the center of the writhing tentacles, despite Jespo Crim's warning), and the Heir to the Furyondian throne smites the giant with a blow that would make his father proud.

The other three giants, fully entangled by the tentacles, are left unable to defend themselves against Dabus' blade barrier, and after the last syllable of the invocation is complete, a staccato series of wet thap, thap, thapping sounds is accompanied by a spray of blood from the legs of the creatures.

The giant standing toe-to-shin with Thrommel can give as good as he gets, and after a moment, Jespo Crim summons a pair of celestial lions to come to the aid of the Prince. Dabus strikes another giant with a flame strike, even as the thing tears Jespo's black tentacles up from the ground by their pulpy, oozing roots.

Within moments, the wounded giants are free of both the tentacles and the blade barrier, but all the fight has been leeched out of them, and after a few more spells and blows are exchanged, all four giants lay dead-- one of them lying where he was struck down as he tried to flee.

-----

As this fight is happening, about two miles up the trail, C'min and Elijah are getting their first good look at the giant stronghold. The entire structure resembles a crudely built human fort, at double proportions. It sits atop a steep hill, and the wooden palisade encircles the hilltop to a height of approximately thirty feet. From their vantage point, the two women can see three elevated guard platforms rising above the level of the wall, and at least one of them is manned by a human-sized figure, looking outlandishly small in the giant-sized structure.

As they patiently observe the place, the massive front gates swing open, and a pair of staggering hill giants emerge, carrying slop-buckets and singing blearily. The first red-eyed giant flings his slop down the hill, but stumbles as he does so, and tumbles head over heels down the slope, crashing into the treeline, his hairy legs exposed from the thighs down. His companion laughs out loud at this, and douses the fallen giant with the fetid contents of his bucket.

The standing giant yells something, which C'min translates for Elijah as meaning roughly "now you smell like you look, you drunk bastard."

The giant who fell does not get up, and after a moment, loud snores are heard coming from the beast. His companion shrugs half-heartedly, and closes the gate.

Sensing an opportunity, Elijah unsheathes her swords and C'min slips in behind her as the wild-woman of the Adri forest moves toward the sleeping giant with murderous intent.

-----

A thin, dark elf is also stalking the fallen giant through the trees, and observes as Elijah slips her weapons up underneath the giant's chin, and deep into his head. C'min grunts sharply when the convulsing giant kicks her with his filthy fur-wrapped foot as he dies.

The elf emerges from his hiding place and quietly makes himself seen. Had either of these women had any experience with drow, they might have marked how unusual it is to see weather-worn dark elven skin.

After a brief moment where C'min and Elijah recover from the shock of actually being snuck up on, the elf introduces himself as Elenthal-- a ranger of the mountains, sworn protector to the Flan settlement of Windswhistle Peak.

Elijah haughtily introduces herself as the personal ranger to Heydricus Tritherionson, Liberator of Tritherion, and future Lord of Tenh. When Elenthal laughs out loud at the preposterous title "Lord of Tenh", Elijah bristles.

C'min, however, retains her diplomatic skills, and coaxes Elenthal's story from him. The ranger has lived near Windswhistle Peak for the last 10 years, after arriving in Tenh from the land of Geoff after "nosing about a bit underneath Castle Greyhawk."

Elenthal's Flan settlement is high enough in altitude that it was spared Iuzian or Stonefist deprivation. In fact, until recently, he believed himself free of political entanglements, if not free of danger. While Iuzians were scarce in his part of Tenh, he has long struggled with a particularly fecund band of hill giants, stalking them and killing them when he could catch them alone.

But recently, he discovered Dorakkan currency amongst the usual detritus of the giant's bags, and after watching their encampment for several weeks, he spotted strange giants, dressed like the Men of the Stonefist, coming and making supplication to the tribal chieftain.

Concerned that these giants were in league with Tenh's occupiers, Elenthal followed them back here.

"And that," he says, turning to Elijah "is when I spotted you."

"You wouldn't have spotted me at all if I wasn't elbow-deep in giant brains," Elijah mutters under her breath.

"You are in luck, friend ranger," C'min says. "Not only are we here as the vanguard of an army of Liberation, we have come here today to kill these giants, and thereby eliminate the risk that they might infect your giants with the blasphemous doctrines of Iuz."

"You two are going up against a giant tribe?" Elenthal scoffs.

"Yes," C'min states. "But we are not alone. We have three others with us; a conjurer, a priest and the Crown Prince of Furyondy".

For the second time, Elenthal bursts out laughing at the ridiculous story, but this time, both women are staring at him evenly.

"And the King has charged us not to let him be killed, so you'd better stay on your toes," Elijah says as she slips away from the fort.

-----
Next: The Liberators call up the reserves, and mayhem ensues!

 

[(contact)]

Planting 27, CY 593

34: Giants look so peaceful when they’re dead.

Returning to their companions, Elijah and C’min step around the heavily lacerated giant bodies and introduce Elenthal to the group. The dark elf states that he is a specialist in giant-fighting.

“Yeah, me too!” Thrommel gleefully states, admiring the corpse of one of the giants.

The six adventurers retrace the scout’s route, and once in their vantage point amongst the trees, they form a plan: [t]invisibility[/I] spells will be placed upon the three who can’t sneak, and the group will make their way into the fort. And then?

“We kill them all,” Thrommel says.

“We kill as many as we can until we have to retreat,” Elenthal corrects him.

Thrommel seems ready to argue, but Jespo whispers into the Prince’s ear, and quiets the young fighter. Fräs purrs from her satchel.

“That’s right Fräs,” Jespo chuckles.

The group locates an exposed livestock pen, built out from the fort, with an unguarded gate leading into the compound. The pen is surrounded on three sides by a steep cliff, but the climb proves no trouble, once C’min reaches the top, and can assist the others.

Inside the compound, the top of the hill is divided sharply along its center by a ledge, some fifteen feet high. Beginning at the side of the ledge the heroes stand near, a trio of wooden longhouses sprawl against the cliff, and at the opposite side, rough stairs are carved into the rock against the palisade wall. All three guard towers are on the raised level, but only one appears occupied, by a lowly orc. A pair of giants stand on an elevated platform, where they watch over the main gate.

C’min creeps through the lower compound, listening at the doors, and returns with the following report: At least three, but no more than five giants are within the longhouses. That’s seven giants accounted for, and one orc.

“I like our odds,” Thrommel says.

“So do I, my Prince, so do I,” Jespo whispers portentously as he pulls a carved gemstone from his pouch. “This gem will soon be the repository of a giant’s soul, and I will possess the creature’s body thanks to my powerful magics!” Jespo looks ready to cackle maniacally at this declaration, but is silenced by a hiss from Fräs.

“Quite right, Fräs. Of course,” Jespo whispers. Jespo turns toward his companions. “When that giant,” Jespo points toward one of the guards, “raises his fist, it will be your sign to attack!”

Jespo clutches his gem between his palms and mutters an arcane phrase, then suddenly, the conjurer of Chendl drops to the ground, limp. At that moment, the giant he indicated shakes its head, does a little dance of glee, then raises its fist, with an altogether incongruous grin on its hairy, bestial face.

Dabus needs no further prompting, and becomes suddenly visible as he calls down a flame strike on the other giant at the gate. Elijah, C’min and Thrommel fire a volley of arrows into the poor surprised brute, and the giant now possessed by Jespo Crim strikes him a two-handed blow, toppling the brute off the palisade wall, and into the compound proper.

The giant on the ground begins screaming, and within moments, the group has finished off the unlucky fellow with ranged attacks. But the orc on the wall has a bow of his own, and strikes Dabus three times, with devastating effect. “Gods preserve me!” Dabus gasps, as the longhouse doors burst open.

Of course, C’min was right—five giants emerge from the houses with clubs at the ready and murder on their minds. What she could not hear through the door, however, is the unnatural (even for a giant) size of one of the monsters. The thing is easily fifteen feet tall, and his limbs are twisted unnaturally. Even more disturbing, the creature bears the scars of ritual torture; a sure sign of Iuzian experimenting.

“To arms!” Thrommel yells somewhat unnecessarily, as Elenthal leaps upon the nearest giant, his sword and shield style frustrating the creature. Thrommel also lays in with his sword, and Dabus levels another blade barrier into the midst of the giants charging toward the group. If the whirling blades weren’t enough to blunt their charge, the possessed giant (with the mind of an anemic Conjurer) leaps at them from the rear, smashing another giant across the shoulders with his club.

Two of the giants turn on their traitorous companion, and the three beasts are soon obscured by a mist of sweat, flailing clubs, blood and spit.

Despite Jespo’s success, the adventurers still fighting by the livestock pen are hard-pressed, and the orcish archer on the guard tower proves to be a deadly sniper. Within seconds, it becomes clear that unless they take cover, the group will be picked apart by his accurate bow-fire before the giants even get a chance to smash the interlopers.

The party’s ranks are broken, and Dabus is forced to retreat to a hidden position and heal himself. The giant possessed by Jespo falls underneath the crushing clubs of his former allies, and suddenly, Jespo Crim’s body shudders, and the Conjurer stands up, breathing heavily.

“Why, now I know what Keriann must have felt like!” Jespo exclaims.

“And Little Leaf,” C’min corrects him.

“Oh yes, of course Little Leaf, and Egil, for that matter,” Jespo says.

“God’s Blood, Crim, shut up and fight!” Dabus yells, as another volley from the orc punches through his armor.

Elenthal and Thrommel have finished their giant, and are creeping along the base of the longhouses, taking cover from the archer while trying to get at another giant without exposing themselves.

Jespo steps out into the compound in order to see where Dabus is pointing, and a razor-sharp barbed arrow whistles through his cloak, just inches from puncturing his kidney. “Take cover, Fräs!” Jespo yells, as he summons a trio of Heavenly lions right at the feet of the orc sniper. The orc calmly steps backward, just before he is seized by one of the great cats, and within seconds, two of the lions have fallen beneath his bow fire, but not before they wound him somewhat.

Freed from the devastating arrow fire, Dabus is able to weave through the melee, healing his companions, and bolstering them against the giant’s blows.

After a few seconds of this, Jespo summons a writhing mass of black tentacles that spring from the top and sides of the guard tower, snatching the orc and the surviving celestial lions, and crushing the life from them.

Thrommel and C’min charge forward to assist Elenthal, as the drow proves good to his boast—against giants, he is a fearsome opponent. By this point, only a pair of giants remain; the unnaturally large creature, and a more ‘normal’-sized brute. They look dispirited, and perhaps are re-thinking their hasty attack, but they are heartened as a bellowing horn-call sounds from somewhere on the upper compound.

“We need to flee!” Elenthal cries, as he slices into the gangling giant, and dodges an energetic blow. Thrommel and Dabus move in to assist the dark elven ranger, and the rest of the group support the brawl with missile and spell fire.

Within seconds, the sound of giantish yelling comes from the direction of the horn blast, but there are only human and elvish ears to hear the cries. As swiftly as they came, the Liberators of Tenh retreat down the hillside and into the surrounding woods.

------
Next: The Liberators vs. the Steading of the Hill Giant King (Reprise)!

 

[(contact)]

Planting 28, CY 593

35: Some massacres are called ‘a battle’, but others are more properly termed ‘adventuring’.

Flush with their victory, the Liberators of Tenh use a pass without trace spell to ensure that they won’t be followed, and Elijah scouts out a suitable campsite. Long into the night, they discuss their tactics, and determine to return immediately the next morning, in order to retain the initiative.

While the other Liberators plan and sleep, Elijah keeps a watch over the giant compound, in case the creatures send out a reprisal in the night. They do not, but during her watch, Elijah is intrigued by a steady sound—a thwock, thwock, thwock, like some pulpy mass falling from a great height onto stone.

In the morning, C’min and Elijah return to the fort, this time climbing over the wall and carefully scouting the entire compound.

There is another orcish sentry, they report, standing on the bloodstain that used to be his companion—he is joined on watch by a single giant guard at the gate. The longhouses in the lower compound are empty, and the remainder of the giant clan must be inside the single larger structure that occupies the upper compound.

When they listened at that door, however, they heard no sounds of life. They did hear a strange whistling and rattling noise—altogether too delicate a sound to be coming from the home of a hill giant.

More disturbingly, the bodies from yesterday’s battle have not been removed. Rather, they have been hacked apart at the scene, and their parts carefully loaded into several un-hitched carts, looking for all the world like bloody, shredded firewood. Two of the giants have been completely dismembered, another three have lost only body parts, while the two most badly burned by Dabus’ flame strike have been unmolested.

The scouts return to the group with their news, and all agree that the remainder of the giants certainly must be laying in wait for them inside the longhouse. They make adjustments to their plan, then begin to prepare spells.

Individual casters prepare their combat retinue—Jespo casts mass haste and invisibility 10’ radius, while Dabus places the group under a wind walk spell. The group wind walks invisibly toward the orcish sniper’s position, and rushes onto his watchtower. The sniper hears their approach however, and demonstrating a grasp of magical tactics, fires arrows into the two most heavily armored (and loudest) Liberators—Thrommel and Dabus.

But the arrows are not enough to hold back the heroes’ advance, and suddenly C’min, Elijah, Thrommel and Dabus all appear in front of the orc, their blades whistling into the creature, wounding him deeply. The orc leaps backward off of the watchtower in a spray of his own blood, firing arrows as he goes, and crashes onto his back fifteen feet below on the roof of a longhouse.

As this happens, Jespo Crim also appears, and he points his finger at the hill giant on watch, holding it. C’min leaps from the watchtower, and runs toward the giant, intending to take its life before it can shake off Jespo’s spell.

The orc starts to move, but is stopped by its wounds, paralyzed from the waist down from damage taken during its fall. The creature casts its bow aside, and stares into the eyes of its foes, who are readying bows of their own, and aiming at him. The orc lifts a hunting-horn to his lips and blows a single, clear note that is cut off when Thrommel sinks an arrow into the orc’s throat.

“The alarm!” Thrommel cries. “They will be upon us! I will charge yonder longhouse, and with Fragarach in my hand,”

“My lord,” Jespo coos toward Thromel, even as he meets eyes with Dabus. “Your prowess with Fragarach is already known to these filthy beasts. Would it not be grand to teach them that the Scion of Furyondy is also to be feared at any range? Perhaps an archery demonstration is in order.”

“Yes, you’re right, Crim.” Thrommel says. “I am quite a fine shot.”

“And I will provide you with an acid fog to assist your shooting, as soon as they emerge,” Jespo says reassuringly.

“And I will provide you with a blade barrier once they are trapped within Crim’s acid fog, as we discussed last night, my lord,” Dabus states.

“Very well, you know what you are to do. Let us make ourselves ready!” Thrommel exclaims.

After a few moments, the doors to the greathouse burst open, and a most fearsome giant emerges—a hill giant, to be sure, but dressed entirely in the ceremonial regalia of a Stonefister chieftan. The creature’s spit flecks in his thin, patchy beard, and he howls a cry of rage and fear as he charges through the opening. Directly behind him is the remainder of his clan, filling the doorway, and the building beyond.

None of them get more than ten feet from the door, as Jespo’s acid fog slows, then stops their movement altogether. Dabus’ blade barrier appears within the fog cloud, but its steady chopping sound is rapidly drowned out by the anguished screams of the giants trapped within. Inside a burning acidic fog, they are cut hundreds of times until they bleed out and die.

The Liberators watch in a fascinated horror from their position on the watchtower as the giants struggle against the solid fog, and die slow, painful deaths.

“That. Was . . .” Dabus begins.

“Their due. Nothing more.” Elijah finishes. “Now let us get in there and finish any survivors before they can regroup.” In a flash, she has leapt from the tower, and is running toward the greathouse.

But there are no survivors. The giants at the rear of the group were the weakest, and the first to die. Their acid-scarred and shredded corpses clog the opening to a tunnel that leads beneath the greathouse—apparently the only escape route.

The remaining giants could not bolt for their underground lair, and lie in various states of painful disfigurement, some twelve giants in all.

The rest of the group stares at the mangled corpses, but Elijah is scanning the interior of the greathouse. The majority of the place is badly damaged by the acid fog, but one corner remains untouched.

“That’s it,” Elijah says under her breath. In the area untouched by acid, several humanoid skulls dangle at the ends of ropes suspended from the ceiling. They are carved and fluted, marked with strange runes and symbols. A breeze from the open window (and the massive holes torn into the structure by the blade barrier) causes the skulls to rattle lightly against one another as the wind whistles through them.

The group clears the giant corpses from the opening, and after listening carefully, C’min slips into the caverns beneath the hill giant’s fortress, and disappears from sight. A few minutes later she reemerges.

She reports that a trail of blood from the opening leads deeper within a series of caverns, indicating the presence of surviving giants. The blood leads into a curious cave that is dominated by a wooden frame surrounding a well—a chaotic patchwork of beams and ropes set into the floor, walls and ceiling of the cave. The whole structure creaks ominously, although there is no wind, and the back of it is obscured in darkness.

The Liberators approach cautiously, but as they near the contraption, a volley of arrows flies forth, striking Dabus and Thrommel.

Dabus and Thrommel respond by charging into the cavern, where they are met by a half-score of orcish elites—four heavy skirmishers with pole-arms, and five archers perched among the beams of the well-frame.

Jespo Crim (who is hasted) summons a pair of celestial lions, and a second later, has cast animal growth upon them. The lions rocket out to ten feet in length and leap into the melee, pouncing and overbearing one of the orcish fighters.

Dabus calls Tritherion’s righteous might into himself and wades forward, crushing bones with each blow. Elijah and C’min move from hiding place to hiding place, taking cover where they can, and trading arrow fire with the orcish archers.

To the back of the room, a voice can be heard chanting arcane phrases, and Thrommel determines to do something heroic. On the back of a phantom steed (summoned by Jespo), Thrommel charges through the melee toward the chanting, his lance at the ready. Around a corner and down a short hallway, he spies the source of the spell-casting—a lion with the upper body of a human woman, and an entirely wicked expression on her beautiful face.

But it is not the Lamia that frightens Thrommel, it is the three surviving hill giants who lurk next to her. The giants spot the Prince and leap forward, smashing him repeatedly with their clubs. Within seconds, his armor is a twisted scrap containing bits of pulped flesh,the metal unable to contain the leaking blood. For the second time in as many months, Prince Thrommel lies dead at the feet of Iuz’ servitors.

“My Prince!” Jespo cries in frustration, as the Lamia steps forth from the shadows, and attempts to hold Dabus, to no avail.

Dabus finishes off the orc in front of him, and flame strikes one of the wounded giants standing over Thrommel’s bleeding corpse, as C’min and Elijah sink arrows into another one. Neither giant can take any further punishment, and fall across Thrommel’s body, no longer a threat.

Jespo Crim clutches his precious gem to his chest and invokes his magic jar. Once settled into the body of the Lamia, Jespo orders the remaining giant to turn on the orcish archers in the rafters. The stupid brute is as clumsy as he is gullible, and while he can’t hit the orcs, he does a fine job of smashing the lattice-work all to pieces.

That settled, the Lamia charges forward and throws herself head-first into the well.

Dabus and Elijah gang up on the surviving giant, while C’min harries the retreating orcs, who by now have had enough.

After the last blow sinks into giant flesh the room has grown quiet. The remaining Liberators are gathered around Prince Thrommel, gingerly removing the body from its armor when Jespo sits up.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in a well before.” Jespo says. “So that’s what Lucius felt like.”

-----
Next: The Liberators knee-deep in snow and gore!

 

[(contact)]

Planting 28, CY 593
36: Flying High Into the Night.

Thrommel is swiftly returned from the dead, via Tritherion’s grace, and abashedly promises that he will Try Not to Die in the future. Jespo speaks with the Prince at length, trying to impress on the young fighter the Grave Responsibility of his Important Station. Fräs chimes in with well-placed purrs and hisses.

While Thrommel is receiving his lecture, the rest of the group searches the chambers nearest the well, and discover that the Lamia was (as suspected) an agent of Iuz, and had a special charge amongst these giants.

A handwritten note from a being identified as “Festering” charges the Lamia with “converting and transforming all giant supplicants, willing or no” and “harvesting any dissenters”. The group concludes that “harvesting” is a metaphor for gathering body parts, as the grisly butchery C’min and Elijah witnessed seems to indicate. The note further instructs the Lamia to deliver any “harvested” giants to an excavation site, and bring them “before the Bleeding Stone”. The note gives directions for a caravan to follow a trail further North and East, into the heart of Tenh’s Northern mountain range.

The party searches the remainder of the hill giant’s fortress thoroughly, and then loads the valuables into one of the giant’s carts. Of particular note, the Iuzian orcs were all in possession of potions of healing—the majority of which went mostly unused thanks to the Liberator’s swift assault. Using the giant’s beasts of burden, the party travels with the treasure back to the mines of Cur’ruth where Jespo and C’min begin the process of cataloguing and identifying the loot.

Elijah disappears into the wild of Tenh for several days, returning with a trio of massive dire wolves in tow. She introduces the animals to the mines of Cur’ruth, and explains that she and the wolves have “reached an understanding”. Apparently, that understanding includes terrifying the former Provost Marshall Reine, who refuses to go near the creatures, much to Jespo’s delight.

The Cur’ruth Tenha prove more open to the presence of the animals, and the Aital explains that dire wolves are revered by the Tenha as divine emissaries—in Tenha legend, ancestor spirits often appear to lost travelers in the form of a wolf to lead them to safety.

Heydricus, for his part, humors Elijah, and extracts a promise from her that her wolves will not maul any of his followers. Thus assured, he returns to his task of shaping his forces into some kind of fighting shape.

Meanwhile, Elenthal rides into the mountains on the back of one of his trained griffons, and following the directions indicated in the Lamia’s note, discovers a crevasse high up on one of the frozen mountain peaks. The crevasse is obviously occupied, as several plumes of smoke rise skyward, dissipating in the thin mountain air.

The cart trail does not reach the peak, however, ending several hundred feet beneath the crevasse. Where the trail ends, a huge one-room structure stands, bordered on one side by the mountain face. The building is manned by a lone blue-skinned giant who tends to a pair of massive giant eagles. Each eagle is some fifty feet in length, and they are both tethered to the building with long chains. The eagles are outfitted to carry either riders or cargo, with gigantic saddles lying nearby.

When Elenthal returns with his report, the Liberators form a plan. Elenthal will return to the site and scout a suitable hiding place along the cart-trail, from which the group can stage a raid on the eagle’s aerie. In three days time Jespo is to scry Elenthal, and reduce then teleport the remainder of the group to his side.

This process is accomplished without a hitch, and once the heroes are returned to their normal size, C’min, and Elijah move toward the aerie, while Elenthal flies overhead on his griffon. Jespo huddles with Dabus and Thrommel, explaining that as soon as he is brought near enough, he will take over the body of the giant, and ferry the entire group up to the crater on the back of one of the eagles.

C’min scouts up the left flank overlooking the aerie, while Elijah approaches from the right, across the face of the building. Elijah creeps forward as quietly as a mouse, but the eagle tethered out front spies her immediately, then spreads its wings and pounces on the surprised ranger!

The eagle clutches Elijah with its claws, piercing her flesh, but lets her fall into the snow as it reaches the end of its tether with a sudden jolt. Elijah grunts once as she lands in the snow, trying to clear her head and suppress the pain from her wounds. The eagle hovers there, casting its massive head to the side, searching for its snack. Elijah buries herself in the snow in an attempt to hide from the gigantic bird of prey.

“Crim!” Thrommel shouts anxiously, disturbing Jespo’s cackling recitation. “My mount!”

The chain tethering the hovering eagle goes slack, as it is released from the inside. Freed from its restraints, the giant eagle flaps its wings once, then twice, and takes to the sky, leaving a swirling cloud of snow and ice shards behind.

Jespo casts mass haste, preparing his group for battle, and then summons a phantom steed directly underneath Thrommel, who closes the visor on his helm, and levels his lance, readying himself for his charge toward the aerie.

Within her makeshift igloo, Elijah drinks a potion of healing, and emerges from the snow. But her predicament only deepens as a second eagle emerges from the aerie, with the blue-skinned giant on its back. The giant is a fierce-looking creature, covered head and shoulders with ice-encrusted hair, its pale-blue eyes beaming forth from its bearded face with a light of their own. The giant guides his eagle with reins that it keeps in one hand while brandishing a wickedly barbed spear in the other. A large axe dangles from a harness at its back, its razor edge catching reflected light from the snow.

As the eagle emerges, it spots Elijah crawling away from her hiding place, and begins to beat its massive wings, creating a blizzard underneath itself as it hovers over Elijah. Elenthal nudges his griffon into a dive, and charges the giant with his sword whistling through the thin, frozen air.

Unfortunately, the cloud of icy shards and snow completely obscures his sight, and as Elenthal charges into the thick of it, he passes through without finding his target. Elenthal’s griffon pulls up from its steep dive and climbs as swiftly as it can, but to Elenthal’s horror, the eagle – slow at first – begins to gain on him.

Thrommel charges forward on his phantom steed and arrives at the aerie just seconds after the eagle leaves it. The prince curses into his helmet at the cowardice of some monsters, then fires a pair of bowshots at his fleeing foe.

Dabus levels his wand of searing light, and sends a pair of beams streaking toward the giant on the back of the eagle. As he does so, the eagle catches up with Elenthal’s griffon, and lashes out viciously with its claws, but Elenthal manages to coax his griffon to dip just underneath the eagle’s razor sharp talons. The giant eagle bends over double to snap at the griffon beneath it with its beak, and as it turns, the giant on its back is able to bring its axe to bear, striking Elenthal twice, and knocking the ranger from his saddle!

Dabus’ wand of searing light does not miss, however, and after another moment, the giant slumps forward, limp and unconscious on the eagle’s back, strapped into his saddle and unable to help himself as he slowly bleeds out, circling the sky aimlessly, his reins clutched tight in his dying grip.

Elenthal, for his part, is feather falling to the ground, unconscious and dying. Dabus marks Elenthal’s limp form as it drifts to the ground like a fall leaf, first sliding to the left, then the right as the cross-winds buffet him.

Fortunately, by the time Elenthal reaches the ground, he is stable, and after a trio of curing spells from Dabus, the stoic ranger is back on his feet.

The group watches the two eagles, and the rider-less one dives lower, apparently still fixated on Elijah as a potential snack. The creature dives into a withering rain of missile fire, including a searing light spell from Dabus and an acid arrow from Jespo. The bird goes from wounded and angry to crippled and terrified within a span of several seconds, and the gargantuan eagle fails in its feeble attempt to check its now out-of-control dive. The bird smashes into the mountain-side, sending up a huge cloud of snow and debris and leaving an impact crater large enough for a family of halflings to live in on the spot where Elijah was standing just a second before!

For the second time, Elijah pulls herself out from under the snow, but this time, she is no longer in fear of her life.

“That was something,” she says.

“Yes,” Elenthal agrees. The two rangers regard one another as the rest of the group climbs toward the aerie.

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Next: The Liberators take on the Frost Giant Jarl (no, its not what you think)!