The Twilight Paths Campaign (Updated 7/30 - Questions from Above)

[Cinerarium]

A Barter with the Dead

“Human,” the central ghost moaned, “we thank you for clearing the upper warrens, but you must leave these halls now, and leave behind the sword your companion carries.” I thought quickly of the sword Toth carried that we had so recently recovered from the mold.

“We would be glad to do as you wish, good spirit, and I hope that you may someday find warmth at the side of Moradin’s forge.” I turned as if to leave, but then paused. “Tell me, is there nothing we could do to put your souls at rest? Why must you continue to haunt these halls after so long?”

I began to realize as I was speaking that none of my companions could understand the dwarf’s words, that somehow he was speaking into my head. And the entire time I worried that Fineon would scoff at them and leap to the attack, eager to take whatever treasure they guarded.

“You have a good soul,” said the spirit. “But you offer that which you cannot grant.”

“That is a shame, for I would hope to give you rest. You, and the other spirit we met in the lower levels.”

“Do not speak of the betrayer!” I stepped back at the sudden fury.

“I apologize humbly, my lord. I meant no offense, and did not realize he was the cause of your torment. Please, is there nothing we could do to end your suffering?”

“There once was… another time, when we were betrayed. We were to guard these halls, and we failed in our duty.” The dwarven spirit paused, and his incorporeal eyes lost some of their fire. “Perhaps you could do what we could not.”

I paused, and looked at my companions. This would be a gamble. “I believe we would be honored to try."

“Wait a second!” Fineon interrupted, “What’re you volunteering us for, exactly?”

“I would have us help put these spirits to rest. They were betrayed in the past, and failed in their duties to defend this place. They believe we could help to right what went wrong.”

“Elf, I read your mercenary spirit,” the dwarf said, and I knew that the others could understand him now. “We would grant each of you an item of your choosing, made from the forge here, if you accept this. But we would not allow you to take any of Durgeddin’s other treasures from these halls.”

I looked at my companions. In Kazir and Fineon I could see their calculations at this offer. “What would this entail?” asked Kazir.

“We would embrace you, and take you… to another time and place. There you would do battle with our enemies. If at any time you wish to return to the here and now, you need simply return to the place where you appeared, and will it so.”

“Come, brethren,” I said. “Let us send these spirits to their rest. They mean us no harm unless we try to steal that which they guard, and if the had meant us ill they could have done so already. This bargain harms none, and stands to benefit us.” Little did I know what the consequences of my words would be.

 

[Cinerarium]

Finally, I have arrived. I had actually finished this yesterday (or was it two days ago, I've lost track) and loved every minute of it.

Thanks for dropping by Lela! I'm glad you like it. If there's anything in particular about the storytelling you'd like me to improve, please let me know! Getting feedback from readers like you is one of the things that makes this story hour worthwhile.

 

[Lela]

Time Travel with ghosts, now that's a cool idea (note to self, do this). Good thinking Destan.

Cinerarium, I love the point of view idea. It's one of those things that gives a Story Hour something extra; something different. I've read (and am reading) a lot of Story Hours and it's things like perspective that make your story rememberable.

Thanks for dropping by Lela! I'm glad you like it. If there's anything in particular about the storytelling you'd like me to improve, please let me know! Getting feedback from readers like you is one of the things that makes this story hour worthwhile.

If you honestly want that kind of feedback, I'm happy to give it. I try to avoid commenting on that because sometimes it's taken personally but if you want it, you got it.

I havn't seen anything that's jumped out at me (that I remember) but I'll keep my eye out from now on.

Keep it coming, I love it,

 

[Cinerarium]

The Long Awaited Vengeance

Soon enough my companions agreed, though Toth with some trepidation. “I couldn’t care about giving up this sword,” he grumbled, “but this whole thing stinks like a week old loincloth.”

The spirits moved to embrace us, one for each of us. As the lead one embraced me, I felt chilled to my core, and an icy blackness spread up in front of my vision.

Like a dark fog, swirls formed in my eyes and my stomach turned. I saw my aunt Arabelle and uncle Welthan, dead seven winters now. I moved towards them, and they disappeared in a fog, only to be replaced by my mother, dead when I was only six. Then, in the shadows, another figure appeared. I moved towards the shade, unsure whom it could be.

Suddenly my vision cleared, and I knew the previous images to be but a dream. I stood over the body of a slain dwarf. Looking around, I saw twelve other dwarven bodies, my companions standing over three of them. I knew that we had been betrayed by him, the son of Durgeddin, that his mercenaries, supposedly hired to help us drive out the cursed orc hordes, had themselves turned on us. They were coming.

Bursting through the double doors at the end of the hall, they poured in. First, a massive ogre, bellowing with rage, quickly followed by a half orc clad in the skin of a bear and armed with a greataxe. Lithely stepping through the door was a wood elf, a pale scar marring his fine features. Behind him, a small, doglike creature dressed as a troubadour bound in to the room, his finger cymbals clanging. Finally, with an air of unholy menace, a black-robed priest of Myrkul strode in, his grinning skull holy symbol dangling from his neck, and a morning star ready in his hand.

Toth charged the other half orc, and with a bellow of rage sliced the man in twain with his axe. I called upon Deneir, summoning his whirling glyph to fight with me. The ogre strode to Toth, and just as Toth had cut down his foe in one blow, was similarly gouged himself. A cold shiver of fear ran from my gut to my eyes, seeing our mightiest felled so easily. Fin danced back out of the way, laying low his opponent while Kazir fired off spells. The priest was stunned while I moved into a defensive posture, firing my crossbow while my spiritual weapon attacked the ogre to little avail. Finally Fineon killed the ogre, Kazir dispatched the kobold, and all of us finished off the elf and priest.

Toth’s body lay cold on the floor. He was beyond healing, his spirit quickly slipping from his body in this odd place. We hastily rifled the bodiesof our foes, then resumed our positions over the dwarven bodies that we appeared over, Fineon carrying Toth’s inert form.

Once again, a sense of nausea washed over me. Soon enough, we were back in the great hall with the dwarven spirits, their faces looking more kindly upon us now. Fin gingerly placed Toth’s body on the cold stone, his ribs still visible and slowly oozing the last of his life essence. I moved to speak, but the gammhedrel stepped forward into the breach, eyeing the lead ghost. “Our friend lies dead. What was the purpose of that?”

“To save us. To right a wrong.” The ghost seemed empathic yet distant.

I moved forward to stand by Fineon. “That is not enough. We have paid dearly, and would know a bit of the story behind this.”

The ghostly dwarf sighed softly, his eyes suddenly old. Somehow he – and all the spirits – seemed more tenuous than before, more translucent. They were leaving, ebbing away slowly before our eyes. “Durgeddin had a son who was raised in hatred. Hatred for orcs and ogres, hatred for those who would defile our bastion. In his hatred he sought mercenaries to aid our cause, for the tide was against us. Yet those he brought were more interested in Khundrakar treasure than dwarven dreams; they turned upon us, attacked us from behind via a secret passage only our dwarven nobles were aware of…”

Kazir nodded, stroking his chin with one finger. “The dwarf ghost we saw on the lower level… he was Durgeddin’s son?”

“Aye,” whispered the lead ghost, even as some of his ethereal companions began to dissolve from sight. “He is Malgudon, firstborn and only-born to Durgeddin. He was slain by the very mercenaries he brought with him. He is cursed to guard those lower halls until the sun smolders into nothingness. It is no less than he deserves.”

Fineon shook his head and ran a hand through his tangled locks. “You spoke of payment –“

“Indeed.” The ghost raised both arms in supplication. “Speak now the weapons or shields you wish forged, and it shall come to pass. Then we shall go into the Great Caverns, and tarry no more upon this world.”

I laid a hand on Fineon’s elbow, staring hard at the ghost. “What if we asked for another boon, a favor in place of the items?”

The ghost appeared bemused. More of his companions disappeared. “What would this ‘favor’ be, Man?”

“Would you… could you raise our slain friend?”

The old dwarven spirit thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “If you and your companions so desire, that can be done. But it is that, or the weapons of yore. You may not have both, and we will hold you to your promise not to carry Durgeddin’s wares from these Halls. Choose quickly, before our grip on this world is gone.”

I turned to Fin and Kazir, and we shared a thoughtful glance. I turned to the spirit, stalling for time. “While we consider this, let me ask. What was the point of what we did though? It could not have changed the past, or the present would surely be different.”

The ghost nodded. “A good question, Man. You answered a need for vengeance and did what we could not, but Khundrakar still fell. The deed was not without merit, but it was isolated as a boulder in the current of time. Malgudon remains a traitor, Durgeddin remains slain. You have given us peace. This must be enough for you, for it is enough for us.”

In typical Kazir fashion he waited patiently for his turn to speak, hearing from all sides and points before responding. “Good dwarves, I have heard that you value plain speech so I will not mince words. You have read our reasons for being here correctly. We sought out Durgeddin’s lair of old to search for his legendary arms. You have also tested our hearts and we have done you a great favor. If you do indeed have the power to return our friend from the dead then I ask that for MY reward. I have no need of steel weapons, no matter how fine. My friends have earned the choice of arms you promised them.

“As for your restrictions on Durgeddin’s artifice leaving these halls, I ask why? In the hands of heroes, how many more orcs could be slain? Ten? Twenty? One hundred? Certainly more than lying lost and unused in some forgotten cavern. If Durgeddin were here would this not be his wish? His weapons, his revenge, could be eternal.

“I stand by my word and will leave them untouched if that is your desire. But others will come eventually and you will be gone. Shall you depend on their honor, or ours?”

I looked at Kazir, in awe. Again our quiet monk cut through all of the questions surrounding us to deliver a masterful response. I have so much to learn from him. There is more to him than greed, and I regret writing such.

The lead ghost nodded, once, curtly. “So be it. We shall raise your friend as you ask, but he shall be marked. The passage from life is not an easy one.” As he continued to fade away, the dwarven spirit waved a hand toward the body of Toth. His wounds closed in front of our eyes as the hammering of the forge grew louder. The half-orc coughed repeatedly and weakly opened his eyes to glance around in confusion.

The ghost, now just a barely visible whisp, eyed Kazir. “You have spoken eloquently and your words show truth. Any of our wares you find on the lowest level, that inhabited by the Lost Son, may be taken from there. The items on this level, however, must remain within Khundrakar.”

With a last glance to Fineon and me, the ghost spoke one last time. “Speak now your weapon or shield of choice, and you shall find it beneath the statues in the outer room.”

Quickly I asked for a buckler, and Fineon for a spiked chain. We left the dwarven hall with a last glance, collected our items in the anteroom, and again retired to the elemental room for rest

 

[Lela]

Wow, that was thought provoking. Very nicely done (by DM, PCs, and writer alike).

Did I miss something or did the ghosts never actually explain how killing the Myrkyl (sp?) priest and his buddies assuaged their guilt?

 

[Cinerarium]

Hammer 16

Rested and recuperated, we again talked of the dwarven spirit in the pit below. We now knew him as Malgudon, the betrayer of Durgeddin’s people. I no longer felt any remorse at challenging his prohibition against exploring that layer, after learning of his past from the other spirits, and their attitude towards him. If anything, I was eager to lay his soul to rest, ending an unnecessary servitude on his part. After all, he was really the one betrayed, and did not deserve to spend the rest of eternity in torment.

We headed back to the pit where Fineon had talked to the dwarven spirit two days ago. At the bottom, we nervously waited to be challenged by the spirit, and I readied a spell to hallow the area against undead. Distantly we could hear the water pounding through the room above, but we saw no sign of the spirit.

Cautiously, we moved through the archway, down a passage into another large cavern, this one only partially worked by dwarven hands. The ceiling reared over forty feet overhead from what Toth told me, and numerous ledges, stalactites, and rock formations glistened on the walls and ceiling. The floor had been worked by dwarves, massive flagstones making a level path, and leading to a bridge over a swiftly flowing channel of water.

As we crossed the bridge, we heard ear-shattering screeches from above as bestial creatures fell on us out of the darkness! Flapping foul wings, these half-humanoid, half-bird abominations clawed at us with their wicked talons. Scrambling for cover we fought back, and sent their corpses one by one into the river below. As the last one fell, I distinctly thought I saw some large shape in the water swallow the corpse, suddenly dragging it under the water.

I quickly checked the party’s wounds, but we seemed to have fared well. It was then I heard what sounded like a bird chirping, from up on one of the ledges. Could these creatures have young? I shuddered at the thought, still disgusted by the ragged flesh that hung from their humanoid torsos.

More cautiously now, we proceeded along the water’s edge across the bridge. The path ended at another bridge that crossed the river a second time. Curiously, I thought at the time, this bridge appeared pitted, like the face of a pox survivor, as though something had eaten away at its surface.

Across the bridge, a narrow path guarded the wall to our right, the stream to our left having opened wider into a subterranean lake. We moved further along the path, to a point nearby where it became broken in places, and I knew we would have to jump, one or two at a time, onto multiple stone ledges rising out of the water.

A hoot from Zazu made me turn my head towards the water. There, swiftly moving towards us over the still water, was another dwarven ghost. Unlike the ones above, the eyes of this ghost glowed red, its beard ragged and its nails curled into sickles. “You were warned not to return,” it rumbled, extending a translucent, bony finger at Fineon. “The rest of you may leave now, and live, but this one dies. Beware the Sleeper in the Depths!”

The betrayer’s eyes glowed more brightly, like coals stoked in hellfire, and it swiftly flew to the attack. Toth stepped in front of Fineon and hacked with his greataxe. The specter seemed unfazed and raked its ethereal claws through Toth. He groaned in agony, his face seeming to shrivel and wrinkle before our eyes. “Momma!” I cried, and quickly hallowed the area and blessed my companions.

Unfortunately that was nearly the extent of my help to the others during the combat, as Kazir’s spells, and Fineon’s and Toth’s blows quickly tore the creature’s insubstantial essence into nothingness.

We paused to take stock of our situation. We were still relatively healthy, though Toth had been somehow drained by the creature’s attack. He shook off the unholy feeling surrounding him, and proceeded to hop to the next stone, followed by Fineon. Two jumps away, he called back. “There’s an island in the lake this path is leading to.”

I looked into the darkness, trying to see the island in our feeble light. I could not see the island, but I thought I saw something else… eyes! Large, round eyes out in the darkness, just above the level of the water, and moving towards us quickly! I let a crossbow bolt fly harmlessly in its direction as Toth yelled, “Eyes! Out in the lake!”

Black as midnight, it rose up partly out of the water, a huge draconic head, horns the color of ivory though tipped with purplish ebony. Its maw parted, claws raised as it darted snakelike in at the attack. A bite and strike from its wing spun me round as I tried dodging its claws. Fineon and Toth hurried back to our sides as I ran across the bridge, hoping for safety as the creature disappeared into the water. I quickly healed myself and hurried back to Toth’s side, where he was hacking at the creature’s head as it reappeared, unleashing a gout of acid at Kazir who rolled safely out of trouble. More vicious combat followed as I used a combination of spells and crossbow bolts to help our cause. The dragon would disappear beneath the water, leaving us to wait in terror before it would rise its head again, unleashing another gout of acid that burned my flesh and also splashed onto Toth. I heard Fin chanting a prayer to his strange elven god, and with a sulfurous bubbling of water, I looked to see a wickedly-ridged dorsal fin rising out of the water near the dragon. Soon enough the maw attached to the fin rose out of the water, the anarchic shark Fin had summoned biting viciously into the dragon’s flank. Now we had the dragon between us and the shark. Fin’s new chain whirled out again and again, trapping the creature whenever it moved forward to attack. Kazir’s spells slammed repeatedly into it, causing arcs of lightning or fire to explode over its surface.

With a roar that shook the cavern, the dragon dove a last time into the water, and sped rapidly down the river away from us, badly damaged. The anarchic shark disappeared, and we collected ourselves on the far side of the pool. We were all badly wounded, the acid still eating at my skin and burning holes in my clothes. We decided to retreat to the elemental room one last time, before returning to seek whatever was on the island, and finish off the dragon when we are back at full strength.

 

[Cinerarium]

Wow, that was thought provoking. Very nicely done (by DM, PCs, and writer alike).

Did I miss something or did the ghosts never actually explain how killing the Myrkyl (sp?) priest and his buddies assuaged their guilt?

Thanks Lela! Kazir's player especially deserves the kudos for that one. His strategy to claim the loot was masterful.

And no, the ghosts didn't really explain themselves very well. My sense is that we prevented the mercs from doing more damage to Khundrakar (thus vindicating the spirits of these guards), but that in the end the dwarves were still overwhelmed by the orc and ogre hordes.

Destan, any comments?

 

[Lela]

I'm happy to inform you that I was somewhat scarred on your behalf when the dragon came up out of the water. I mean, it's a dragon. With Destan in control.

The Shark was an excellent idea. Kudos to Kenzar once again.

And no, the ghosts didn't really explain themselves very well.

Ah, who ever expects to understand what a ghost says? Last time I heard one speak was something about giant fireballs and wagons filled with Alchamist's Fire. They never make any sense, really.

 

[Cinerarium]

Hammer 17

I had a very strange dream last night, so much so that when I awoke I asked the others, and they too had it.

I clung precariously to the highest boughs of a towering cloudtree. My companions, I saw, were near me – pressed against the bark of the tree like babes to mother's breast. The wind was deafening; the whole world threatened to be swept away. The groaning of the trees around me was audible, and terrible to behold. Branches, thick as Formyrian spears, snapped like so much tinder and went tumbling through the crackling air. I cried out, yet could not hear my own voice from the fury of the storm. Charcoal clouds, angry and black, streaked across the heavens at impossible speeds, like so many giant birds of prey. The smell of coming rain was ominous and thick. Thunder rolled like a paean to the Old Gods. I grasped at the wood and trembled from fear and awe.

Below me, all around me, the forest writhed. I saw cloudtrees in all directions, hundreds upon thousands. There was no end to the woodland canopy. Far, far in the distance the horizon was muted by gray rain storms. The world smelled like a birthing bed – heady, bloody, fresh.

A figure emerged from the stormclouds, plummeting towards me. It was an elf. An elf of a race I had never seen. He was tall, taller than the most massive Gordian. His face was smooth and spoke of arrogance and cruelty, of power and terror. He smiled, his lips thin, and seemed unperturbed by nature's primordial fury. Indeed, he appeared to relish it.

Glistening armor the color of an angry river encased his perfect form. A pair of swords were thrust through a sash at his waste; they caught the brightness of the lightning in the firmament high above.

He spoke and his voice cut through the winds without faltering. “This Age is ending. The Heroes are no more. It will be a time of Forests now, a time of Elves. These great trees will sink into the earth and the Weedsea will hold sway here. Soon thereafter, a time of Men.

“Yet there are those who would cling to their Power, who would not go Away. These are those same who now hunt you, mortals. Tremble under their gaze.”

I wrapped my arms further about the branches of the cloudtree, seeking succor from his terrible words and the growing storm. “Find me. Find me thousands of years from this time. I will go into the breast of Jann near the citadel you will know as Formyr. Look for the sign. Look for three stunted trees. Then burrow into Jann's breast as I must do. I would arm you, I would lend hope to your cause.

“But only if you prove worthy of my aid - I do not treat with beggars.”

 

[Cinerarium]

The Shark was an excellent idea. Kudos to Kenzar once again.

Actually Lela, it was Fineon's shark, though still a dang good idea.

We played last night, for the first time in about two months. Soooo good. Many of these loose threads were tied up, or at least grouped together nicely. And it occurs to me I'm way behind on my posting; I've got about 56 or so of the 70 pages in my journal up so far... and that 70 number doesn't include the last two days of Tryn's life, which have been very entertaining to say the least.

Crises of faith, climactic encounters, death and betrayal... like I said, it was soooo good.