War of the Burning Sky (updated 24th May)

[Rugult]

I am really looking forward to the next update on this! I fondly remember Adventure 4 as one of the most political and roleplaying intense adventures of the campaign, and thus like seeing other takes on it. I remember that one of my PC's (the rogue of course) took to calling Duke Gallo 'Gally'.

I very much enjoyed your description on the fight with the wizard. It brings back a flood of good memories!

Hope you update soon.

 

[amethal]

Gribron briefly takes part in as shell game a nimble fingered young man is running, but being the staunch supporter of law and order that he is, takes exception once he realises the man is cheating. Yes, cheating! In a shell game! What is the world coming to? Instead of hiding the coin under one of the three cups, he has palmed it instead.

Angrily, Gribron accuses the man of being a cheat. The man tries to laugh it off, producing the coin from Agatha’s ear, but Gribron is not to be mollified so easily. In the end they agree on a compromise – one last game, double or quits. Gribron loses – fair and square, as far as he can tell. With a shrug he pays the man with illusory gold and wanders away.

In the distance our heroes can hear the sound of fireworks. They come across a man in a fake beard and gaudy robes who is responsible for the noise and flashing light. A sign proclaims him to be “Whizbang the Fabulous”, and his show is a big hit with the watching children.

He bows to his audience, then turns to Gribron. “Excuse me, do you know where I could get a drink?”

“I know just the place,” says Gribron. “Allow us to buy you a beer at the Golden Gryphon.”

As our heroes return to the inn where they spectacularly failed to protect the diplomat Balan from assassination, they spot an old man playing an accordion. It looks a lot like Balan’s old instrument.

Inside the inn, ‘Whizbang’ introduces himself as Zachar. “This fair has been a real boon to performers such as myself,” he says. “Things have been all doom and gloom around here ever since the king’s family was murdered, and nobody has been in the mood for fireworks.

“Everybody is glad of a chance to celebrate for once. I’ve made more money today than in the past month. Only problem is, I’ve run out of supplies, and the alchemists I normally use are all tied up on some special project for the king. I’ve tried a few others, but they are also too busy to help, for the same reason.

“You look like a bunch of adventurers to me. I don’t suppose you’d happen to have any thunderstones, alchemist fire or something you could sell me? If not for my sake, for the sake of the children?”

The party has a surprisingly large stock of items that make loud noises and / or explode, and soon a happy Zachar heads off to put on another show.

After a few more beers, our heroes head back out into the fair. Its getting on for midday, and the food vendors are out in force. Solsus hears the sound of arguing voices coming from one of the carts, and the party amble over to see what all the fuss is about.

A man is standing holding plate with a piece of steak on it. A halfling dressed in a chef’s outfit is haranguing at him. “Bah!” he says at last. “As though you, an eater of gruel, would understand the finer aspects of the culinary arts. Take your money and begone!” The halfling leaps up and dashes the plate from the man’s hands. If falls to the ground and breaks. The disgruntled chef then hurls a handful of coins onto the floor after it.

The man picks up his money with as much dignity as he can muster and stalks off into the crowd.

It seemed like a lot of money for a piece of steak, but as the party get closer they can see the halfling’s price list. Even the soup is three pieces of silver per bowl.

“Um, a bowl of soup each please,” says Gribron cautiously, half expecting the enraged halfling to throw something at him. However, the chef merely grunts, and hands out a bowl of soup each. He glares at them as they eat it, as if daring them to make a disparaging remark.

In fact, the soup is delicious, probably the best they have ever tasted. “That’s good soup!” says Gribron, and the rest join in with the praise. This seems to calm down the chef, and the tension flows out of his body.

“Thank you,” he says. “Its good to find people who are able to appreciate the finer things in life. I’m not used to catering for uncultured palates.”

“So who do you normally cook for?” asks Solsus.

The halfling pulls himself up to his full height of three feet. “I am Randas Slabovalles,” he declares. He waits in vain for recognition to dawn on the faces of our heroes, and his scowl returns. “Chef to His Majesty, King Steppengard,” he adds at last.

“Isn’t there a banquet for the lords tonight?” says Solsus. “I’d expect you to be hard at work in the royal kitchens.”

“So would I,” snarls the halfling. “However, His Majesty has seen fit to bring in …” He pauses, in a vain attempt to regain his composure, before spitting out the rest of the sentence. “….. Outside caterers! I have been given the week off, and banished from my kitchen!”

A pair of the royal guard wander over, attracted by the commotion. “Move along there, Randas,” says one of them. “Stop making a scene, and take yourself home before your big mouth gets you into trouble.”

“He’s not doing any harm,” says Gribron.

“Not yet he isn’t,” replies the guard, “but we are under orders to make sure this fair is a happy event, and his yelling and shouting is spoiling the mood.”

“I was leaving anyway,” retorts the halfling. “None of you peasants are fit to eat the merest crumb of what I produce.” He begins packing up the wagon, and the party head off.

Solsus is concerned that the halfling might be in trouble, and follows him invisibly until he gets safely home. Then he rejoins the others.

“Strange cooks in the kitchen,” says Jonathan. “And the alchemists are all tied up on some special project. Could they be planning to poison the king and the lords?”

“We’d better go and report this to Lord Gallo’s proxy,” says Agatha. “This sounds like exactly the kind of thing he told us to watch out for.”

Our heroes head back to see Jinis, the proxy. Dozens of other people have the same idea. It seems Lord Gallo’s return to the capital has convinced everybody with a grievance to attend his court in the hope of getting a hearing. Harassed servants are trying to maintain decorum and arrange some sort of order of precedence. They wave our heroes straight through, which leads to much bitterness amongst the crowd and the odd hostile comment.

“These are Lord Gallo’s elite agents,” retorts one of the servants. “They have done sterling service to the kingdom and certainly take priority over the likes of you!”

Once inside, they meet a flustered looking Jinis. “Welcome, my friends,” he says. “Dealing with all these matters of state is proving somewhat stressful, but it is much better than my last stay in the capital, in His Majesty’s dungeon. What can I do for you?

The party explain their fears about the king being poisoned, and Jinis smiles. “Poison is the least of our worries at present,” he says. “As foreigners, I wouldn’t expect you to know this, but our nobles are protected by the Book of Eight Lands, Dassen’s most prized possession.”

This rings some bells, as they remember Balan referring to the book in his ultimately futile speech to the assembled court.

“The book,” continues Jinis, “is a mighty artefact that protects all the nobles from poison, and also from mind affecting magic. We need have no worries on that score, although as a precaution I will see to it that my lord Gallo is given some additional magical protection against poison, just in case.

“It may be that these occurrences are just coincidence, but with the fate of the Kingdom resting on this couple of days, we cannot be too careful. Just because we are not threatened by poison, it does not mean there is no plot at all. Please continue your investigations.”

The party head back out to the street. If anything, the crowd waiting to see Jinis has grown during their brief meeting. As they leave one applicant, a dark haired dwarf currently stationed towards the back of the queue, seems to come to a decision and follows them out.

Once out in the street, the dwarf says “Pssst!” in a low voice. Our heroes all turn and look at the stranger. “No, don’t look at me!” he says in anguish. “Follow me into that dark alley, over yonder, where we can talk in private.”

The party exchange glances. If it’s a trap, it’s a very obvious one. This fair might finally be getting interesting. They follow the man into the alley.

“Is that right?” asks the man. “You are Lord Gallo’s special agents?”

“We are indeed,” says Jonathan. “I am Jonathan Farrier, a scholar.”

“I can’t see Lord Gallo. I can’t even get in to see his proxy. I need you to hear me out. Strange things have been happening.”

“Okay,” says Agatha. “What’s your story?” She sounds almost disappointed, and scans the alleyway as if hoping to make out the shapes of figures lurking in ambush.

“I’m one of the castle guards,” says the dwarf. “I work the night shift. Normally, I’m stationed in the old graveyard. That’s where the castle sewers come out, and flow into the river. There’s a locked gate and stuff, but it’s a potential weak spot in the castle defences.
“Anyway, the other day I was re-assigned to the castle’s Special Vault, the one where they keep the Book of Eight Lands. Nothing too unusual about that; we guards go where we are sent, and anyway it was a much better posting. That graveyard’s a pretty spooky place; you get the odd ghost, which you have to know how to deal with.

“I tried to find out who’d been assigned to my old duty, so in case they were rookies and didn’t know about the ghosts, but nobody could tell me who it was. Typical mess up, I thought, so since last night was my night off I decided to head down to the graveyard and see if the new guards needed any advice.

“When I got there, there were no guards at all! Instead, a bunch of people in robes – priests maybe – were taking delivery of a load of casks. What possible reason could there be for bringing a load of casks into a sewer?

“That left me pretty puzzled. Then today I get a message telling me I won’t be working tonight, so I could enjoy the festival. I tried to find out who was going to be replacing me at the vault; its going to be tough luck on them, pulling extra duty when the festival is on, so I figured I owed them a favour. But once again, it seems nobody is replacing me.

“I didn’t know what to do, so I thought I’d tell Lord Gallo about it. Only now I’m telling you, instead.”

 

[amethal]

Scene 3 – Sewer
March 2nd 7 pm

Our heroes look around the graveyard. It is not a very inspiring sight. The light covering of snow can’t hide its current state of disrepair. Finding the sewer exit is easy enough – they just follow their noses – and that looks even less inviting.

“After you,” says Agatha, and with a sour expression Gribron wades into the foul smelling tunnel, his feet crunching on various frozen items on the tunnel floor, which he tries not to examine too closely.

Once Gribron is well and truly into the tunnel, Agatha turns to the others. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. Perhaps we should all go home before we all smell as bad as Gribron does.”

“The way is blocked by a grating,” says Gribron from inside. “I’ll see if I can pick the lock.” However, when he touches the rusty grating it falls over backwards with a crash. Its hinges have been snapped off, fairly recently by the look of things, and then someone must have propped it back up again.

“Do you think you could make a bit more noise?” asks Agatha. “Some of the dead in the graveyard might not have heard that crash.”

Low groans and hisses start coming out of the tunnel. “Stop messing about,” says Agatha. “I know its you making that noise.”

The rest of the party clamber into the tunnel and head towards Gribron, who turns to Agatha and places his hand over his mouth. The groans and hisses continue unabated.

“So you’re making noises using magic,” snorts Agatha.

Gribron rolls his eyes skyward in an exaggerated gesture of despair. “Then maybe you’d like to go first,” he says.

“No thanks. That’s your job. You’re the expendable one.”

Gribron moves cautiously along the tunnel, his magical torch in his hand. Ahead the tunnel opens out into a fairly large cavern, decorated with numerous odd looking lumps of ice, some of which are several feet high. They are packed closely together, and seem to be the source of the strange noises.

“I’ll check out the cavern,” says Solsus. He vanishes from sight, and flits past Gribron. As he approaches the frozen objects, they start to thrash and wave about, but he manages to elude their grasp and returns to the others.

“What are those things?” asks Agatha.

“Zombies, I think,” says Solsus. They have been half buried in the ground, and frozen in place. Looks like they are under orders to attack intruders. There are a few small holes in the ceiling off to the right, but too small to get casks through.

“There is also a grating at the far end, where the zombies are thickest. It’s then only way I can see for getting large objects out of the cavern, assuming you know the trick of getting past the zombies.”

“I know a trick or two,” says Jonathan with a smirk. “Let’s see if I can warm those zombies up a bit.” The cavern suddenly erupts in a fiery explosion. When the steam clears, the zombies in the area of effect are reduced to charred dust.

The party cautiously approach the grating. The remaining zombies whirl their arms in a futile attempt to reach them. It is a heavy metal grate, and despite their best efforts our heroes are unable to lift it. “Maybe it will be easier from the other side,” says Gribron. He vanishes briefly, and then appears on the other side in a shower of sparks. He crouches down and starts to carefully examine the grating.

Concentrating on his work, he fails to notice a large, shambling, skeletal figure until it is almost too late. The creature reaches out for him with its long, pink tongue. Gribron gives a shriek and jaunts back to the other side of the grating.

“What the heck was that?” he demands.

“I couldn’t make out any details,” says Jonathan, “and its moved back out of sight, but it looked to me like a mohrg. If so, I seem to remember you want to avoid being touched by its tongue. Could you go back up there and have a closer look for me?”

“No way!” says Gribron. “I’m not going back up there on my own.” He studies the underside of the grating, using the extra knowledge he has gained from his brief look at the top. He manages to tweak it so that it can be opened more easily from this side, and they heave on the grating once more.

This time it opens, and they climb quickly into the room above. However, there is no sign of the mohrg. Instead, they are in a square room that looks somewhat familiar.

“This is the torture chamber in the prison,” says Gribron. “We ‘questioned’ Jinis here when we were trying to rescue him. That door leads out into the corridor.” He cautiously tries the door. “Its locked. Are mohrgs any good with locks?”

“They are quite cunning, but I don’t think they are very mechanically minded,” says Jonathan. “I wonder where it could have got to …”

At that moment a concealed door in the corner of the room opens, and the creature lumbers out. Its long pink tongue heads for Gribron, and once more he has to jaunt out of the way. Then Agatha, Jonathan and Gribron manage to blast it into pieces.

They search the room, but find no more secret doors, and nothing much of interest, although Jonathan pockets some thumbscrews. Gribron picks the lock on the door and they head out into the corridor. There are two more door off the right hand side, and a door at the end.

Gribron remembers that the door at the end leads into a guardroom, and has stairs leading up into the castle proper. They decide to investigate the other two rooms, which turn out to be storerooms of some sort, but they don’t find anything useful. Someone has been using one storeroom recently for some kind of alchemical experiments, but they are unable to determine what it was.

Solsus listens at the door of the guardroom, and can hear voices. He can’t make out individual words, but it sounds like two or more people are having a relaxed conversation, obviously not expecting trouble.

Trouble is what they get, however. Jonathan transforms himself into a troll, and the party bursts into the room. Inside there are four soldiers, the Ragesian ambassador and his aide, Inquisitor Torrax.

The ambassador tries to flee whilst the rest hold off the party, but our heroes slaughter all six opponents in short order. The soldiers were members of the royal guard, presumably subverted by the Ragesians into their service. In a macabre touch, they each have a piece of black onyx in their mouths – this makes it easier to bring them back as undead should they die on duty.

It appears the ambassador has been composing two messages to send to his superiors, one claiming success and one reporting failure. It appears the plan is to kill the nobility of Dassen. The inquisitor, meanwhile, had been passing the time by reading a book of humorous prisoner confessions.

A door leads into the cell block. The party give it a cursory search, but it appears all the prisoners have been released – perhaps as part of the festival.

The two Ragesians have a variety of interesting magical items on them, which the party split amongst themselves. What is perhaps more interesting is a blank scroll, of the sort normally sued to hold an arcane spell. The spell has been cast recently, wiping the information from the scroll but leaving behind a faint residue. Agatha examines it carefully. “I think it once held a rope trick spell,” she says at last.

“The spell that creates an extra dimensional hiding place?” says Gribron. “Interesting. If they had such a bolt hole, why weren’t they using it?”

“It wouldn’t last very long,” says Agatha. “Only a couple of hours, probably. It can’t be in here. I’d see it if it was. I’m very good at seeing unseen things.”

“Maybe they are using it for something else?” suggests Caryk. “Perhaps the missing casks are filled with alchemists fire, and they have positioned them above the banquet table. When the spell ends, the cask will fall on the king and his guests.”

“Seems a bit too random and unpredictable to me,” says Jonathan. “From what we’ve seen, the Ragesians like complicated plots with nothing left to chance.” He thinks for a moment. “I wonder … The protection the Book of Eight Lands gives to the nobles. Would it work from a different plane, do you think?”

“Maybe not,” says Agatha. “If they put the book in the extra dimensional rope trick, it would count as being on a different plane, and might leave the nobles vulnerable to poison. And that dwarf did say the special vault was unguarded.”

“So what do we do now?” asks Caryk. “Head for the kitchens, or head for the vault? The banquet is probably starting any minute now.”

“From what I remember of the layout of the castle,” says Solsus, “the banqueting hall is pretty much at the top of these stairs. Let’s head there, since it is closer.”

The party emerges onto a long corridor To the left it leads to the banquet hall and the kitchen. To the right it leads eventually to the vault. The party head left, and are soon accosted by the guards outside the banquet hall. There are at least a dozen guards here, and many more within earshot.

“Halt,” says the first guard, who appears to be a captain. “This area is off limits at the moment. There is an official function in progress.”

“We are with Duke Gallo,” says Jonathan. “We need to get in and see him as a matter of urgency.”

“I’m sorry,” replies the guard. “The king has left strict orders they are not to be disturbed. It’s not just a banquet, it is an important diplomatic event aimed at restoring the kingdom’s unity. If you are with the Duke, you should have gone in with his other guards earlier.”

“There are guards in there?”

“Of course. All the nobles have retinues.” He sniffs the air. “And none of them smell as bad as you do. I can’t possibly let you in to a royal banquet smelling like you do, even if I wanted to.”

“Has the banquet started yet?”

“No, the first course hasn’t gone in yet.”

“Then let us into the kitchen.”

“Why would you want to go into the kitchen?” The guard eyes them suspiciously, taking in their arms and armour for the first time. “What is your business here anyway? Ever since the King’s family was murdered we’ve all heard the tales of assassins and agitators seeking to unsettle the kingdom.”

Solsus, in despair, decides to fall back on the truth. “We think there is a plot to poison the nobles. We need to get into the kitchen to check.”

“Poison? That’s ridiculous. The Book of Eight lands protects the nobles from poison, as well as enchantment and divination magic.”

“We have reason to believe the book may not be working,” says Caryk. “But anyway, you said there were guards in there. They’ll be poisoned even if the nobles survive. Some of them are probably friends of yours.”

The guard hesitates, uncertain where his duty lies. Then he comes to a decision.

“All right, you can inspect the kitchens. But me and my men will come in with you, to make sure there’s no funny business. And for the sake of all the gods don’t handle any food. You all stink. Have you been in the sewers or something?”

Our heroes head into the kitchen. A group of servants are working hard to get the first course ready. They glance up at the intrusion, then go back to work. The guard tries to get their attention, but they ignore him. This dedication seems somewhat unusual; Agatha uses her arcane sight and confirms they are under some sort of spell.

Caryk calls upon the power of Aurean, and confirms her diagnosis. “It is some sort of enchantment effect, controlling their minds. It is a powerful one too, but I can’t identify it.”

“Maybe I can dispel it,” says Solsus. “My fey heritage gives me a thorough knowledge of such things.” He casts a spell, and nine of the ten servants slowly stop working. The tenth continues on.

“Only one is still under the spell,” reports Caryk. “I suggest you restrain him, but gently since he is but a victim here.”

Meanwhile, Gribron and Jonathan have been searching the large kitchen. They find a collection of casks, which contain a weird red powder.

“What’s in the casks?” asks Gribron.

“Dunno,” replies one of the cooks. “It’s a special spice we were ordered to put in all the food. Foreign, apparently.”

“All the food? The king as well?”

“Yeah. Anyway, the nobles like to swap plates. You know, just in case.”

Jonathan examines the contents of the casks. Suddenly, it dawns on him what they contain. “This is a rare alchemical substance called Red Madness,” he says. “It will drive anyone who eats it temporarily insane, generally sending them on a killing spree.”

“The note we found in the Alydi Gap watchtower referred to ‘If Madness succeeds’,” says Solsus. “This must have been what they were referring to. It’s not a poison, so the Book wouldn’t protect the nobles.”

“Technically, I think it is a poison,” says Jonathan, “just an alchemical one rather than a natural one. I don’t think it matters though. If the heavily armed guards eat this stuff and run amok, it would turn into a bloodbath in there.”

“So is the Book working or not?” asks Agatha.

“I don’t know, and I don’t see how we can safely find out,” says Jonathan.

“I do,” says Agatha. “Let me have a quick peek into the banquet hall.”

The guard captain, out of his depth, agrees to her request. They leave, only to return shortly afterwards.

“Lord Gallo’s sword is magical,” says Agatha.

“I imagine it is,” says Jonathan. “He’s rich enough to have any number of magical trinkets.”

“Of course,” says Agatha. “But up until now I’ve never been able to detect any magical auras on him. The Book must have been preventing divination spells, as the captain said. Well, it isn’t any more.”

Leaving most of the guards in charge of the kitchen, the captain and his men accompany our heroes to the vault at top speed. “I’ll explain the situation to the vault guards,” says the captain as they arrive.

However, there are no guards to be seen, and the party are able to walk straight in. “So what is stopping the Book just walking out?” asks Gribron with professional curiosity.

“There are a load of magical wards at the entrance,” says Agatha, “which are working perfectly as far as I can tell. However, if we find the book, feel free to try and steal it. Just let me get to a safe vantage point first.”

She spends a nervous couple of minutes looking for an invisible window into an extra dimensional space, but eventually she finds it. Solsus flies up and retrieves the book. With a meaningful glance at Gribron, he puts it back into its designated place.

“I guess we’ve saved the day again,” says Gribron. “All that’s left is to tell Lord Gallo and the King what has happened, and collect our reward.” He saunters off back to the banquet hall, with the others in his wake.

“Seems a bit too easy to me ….” says Agatha thoughtfully.

 

[amethal]

Scene 4 – Banqueting Hall
March 2nd – 8 pm

The banqueting hall is a large room, with nine tables arranged around the walls. Each lord and his retinue is has their own table. The King’s table is opposite the entrance doors. King Steppengard is accompanied by his bodyguard, a mail clad figure known only as the Blade of the Kingsguard, and his gnome assistant, Nina Glibglammer.

King Steppengard looks up as our heroes enter. “The first course, at last. We have been waiting an inordinate amount of time.” Then he realises the newcomers are actually a bunch of adventurers, and his expression darkens.

Nina heads over to intercept them, but Lord Gallo intervenes just as she reaches the door. “My apologies, Your Majesty, but these people are with me.”

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” demands the king.

“I will attempt to find out,” replies Lord Gallo, and beckons the party over to him. Solsus quickly fills him in on the day’s events, and Lord Gallo gives a wry smile. “I should have known things wouldn’t go smoothly; nothing in Dassen ever does these days.”

Lord Gallo gets to his feat, and addresses the king. “Your Majesty, it appears that my retainers have defeated a plot to neutralise the Book of Eight Lands and poison yourself and this noble company.”

“Preposterous,” says one of the other lords. “Who would do such a thing?” There are mutterings from the rest of the audience, and King Steppengard holds up a hand for silence.

“Poison!” he says in a harsh voice. “Poison. Let me tell you of poison. Truly vile is the poison that clutches at my heart, day and night. You slew my wife, my children, you ended my line in blood and terror.

“I created this land, brought together the eight petty, squabbling domains, and this is how I am repaid…. In the blood of my family … Well, I have vowed they shall not die alone. What I have created, I can also destroy. This land will die with them.”

King Steppengard gets to his feet, reaches behind his chair and pulls out a wickedly barbed flail. He then strides menacingly over to Lady Namin’s table. “And you, you harlot. You sought to replace my wife, as if anyone could. You will be the first to die!”

Lady Namin’s retainers step between her and the king. The Blade of the Kingsguard, is clearly bemused by this turn of events, but steps forward to protect his royal charge from Lady Namin’s men.

However, the king does not need his help. With a howl of frustration he wades into combat. Lady Namin’s retainers are no match for his battle frenzy, and his ferociously whirling flail sweeps them out of his way like so much wheat. Lady Namin tries to flee, but there is nowhere to go. The retainers of the nearby nobles have locked shields around their masters, and refuse to offer her any protection. With a wolfish grin the king brings round his flail once more and dashes out her brains.

The King’s guards outside the banqueting hall make as if to enter, but the king waves them back. “You men, stay out of this. This is between me and the lords. It is not for the likes of you to get involved. Merely stop these cowardly so called “nobles” from fleeing my just wrath.”

Utterly confused by this turn of events, the soldiers do as he says.

“I can’t see any magical auras around the lords,” says Agatha. “The protection of the Book must be working again.”

“Me neither,” says Caryk, his divination spell also still active. “However, it looks like the Book isn’t much use against old fashioned violence ….”

Nina Glibglammer, still stood by the entrance, starts to laugh. It is a deep, horrible, booming sound that seems completely incongruous coming from such a small person. Then she begins to change before their very eyes. She grows larger and more and more insubstantial, until the doorway is being blocked by a huge, smoky, serpentine, multi-headed monster of nightmare. Somewhere writhing its heart here is still the rough outline of a gnome, but it is hard to make out any details as the creature somehow seems to be in several places at one – and also nowhere.

Heroic Caryk heads towards this terrifying apparition, whilst trying to make out more details using his magically enhanced sight. Unfortunately, the sensory input is too much for his mortal mind to cope with, and it is forced to take refuge in insanity …

Agatha briefly also descends into madness, but is able to shake off the effect and tear her eyes away from the creature.

Gribron acts quickly. He gestures, and a cloud of roiling black smog engulfs both King Steppengard and his elite bodyguard. From within the cloud comes the sound of choking and spluttering. “That ought to hold them for a while,” he says.

He is half right. King Steppengard emerges alone from the fog, a wild look in his eye, but there is no sign of the Blade of the Kingsguard. The King strides towards the nearest noble, Lord Megadon. Again the lord’s retainers seek to bar his way, and again they are shattered by the king’s flail. “I never liked you Megadon,” says King Steppengard absently as he caves in the lord’s skull. “Now, who is next, I wonder …”

“To me, to me!” yells Lord Gallo. “Everybody, over here in the corner. If we do not stand together, we will fall separately.” The remaining five lords and ladies hesitate for a moment, then make a mad rush for the apparent sanctuary Lord Gallo is offering.

Ambar moves forward to protect their retreat, the sword of Anyariel in her hand. As if sensing her need, the sword is suddenly bathed in flame. King Steppengard steps toward her. “I have no quarrel with you, girl, but you are in my way.”

Ambar’s sword slips through his defences, and leaves a burning gash in his arm. The king merely smiles at the pain, and his return blow crashes into Ambar. Her magical protections stand up to the king’s flail, but only just. Battered and bruised, she has little option but to withdraw.

Solsus vanishes from sight and heads towards her, his healing wand at the ready.

Agatha elects to target the nightmare creature, but it is not where she expects it to be, and her blasts pass harmlessly through it.

Caryk, caught in the depths of insanity, lashes out at the nearest foe. As luck would have it, it is the monster. He seems to have no difficulty finding the creature’s location despite its ever shifting form; it is as if his madness is giving him additional insight.

The monster lets out another howl of glee, and suddenly the threads start running in the room’s tapestries. In seconds each one has been reduced to a pile of multi-coloured yarn, which then flies towards the monster and is absorbed. As each piece of material is absorbed, the creature becomes more and more solid, until it is fully corporeal.

“Thanks a lot,” says Agatha. “I can hit you now.” She pours several blasts into the now solid creature.

The beast recoils in pain. “Yesss,” it hisses, the voice seeming to come from all the snake heads at once. “And now I can hit you too …” The creature darts forward and strikes out with all its heads. Agatha is grievously bitten, and collapses to the ground. She looks to have taken a mortal wound, and her comrades look on in disbelief. Then her body twitches slightly, and they remember Indomitability’s boon. That strange creature’s power has protected her from the attack of something even stranger. Agatha will survive this fight – if any of them do ….

Caryk’s head clears briefly, and he aims some more blows at the creature. His aim is true, but he cannot bring down the beast. Its devastating counter-attack brings him to his knees. Its poison races through his veins, and the clouds of madness descend once more upon him.

Gribron conjures orb after orb, which he hurls at the creature, seeking out its vulnerabilities. To his surprise, all the elements seem to have an effect. That is all the cue Jonathan needed, and he joins the attack with fiery bolts of his own.

The monster is driven back, with gaping holes in its body. Then it gathers itself, and springs forward to finish off Caryk.

“What shall I do,” calls out Ambar. “Go for the king, or the beast?”

“The beast,” says Gribron. “Concentrate on the beast!”

Ambar nods, and bolts of force flow from her hand towards the creature. She half expects them to fizzle out, but they strike home. This is too much for the beast. Its form collapses in on itself, leaving a pile of thread on the floor. However, its ghostly outline remains. “We will meet again,” it hisses. Then even the ghost is gone.

Solsus busies himself healing his injured friends. Jonathan and Gribron, still uninjured, turn their attention to the King.

King Steppengard, however, has dropped his flail, and is staring into space. “What have I done?” he whispers. “What have I done …” He starts to weep.

Slowly things begin to return to a semblance of normality.

The King, his face sunken in horror and disbelief, removes the crown from his head. “I let that creature control me, tie me in a knot, imprison me in my own grief.” He moves to throw away the crown, only to be stopped by Gribron.

“You can’t give up now,” says Gribron. “The Ragesians are on the border, your people need you. You have to stay, and try and clean up your mistakes.”

The King glances at Lord Gallo and the five other nobles. Lord Gallo nods slowly, and with a sigh the king puts the crown back on his own head.

“Very well, I shall do as you suggest. The land needs to be rebuilt, and it will need brave heroes if we are to survive the dark days ahead. And so my first act will be to bestow knighthoods on the five brave adventurers who have saved me from myself.”

Solsus re-appears and gives a slight cough. “Um, actually Your Majesty, that should be six brave adventurers!”

 

[RangerWickett]

Cool stuff. The party seemed rather subdued about the king going around killing his subjects. What did they make of the snake monster?

 

[amethal]

Cool stuff. The party seemed rather subdued about the king going around killing his subjects. What did they make of the snake monster?

Yeah, couldn't believe it myself. The King says he's sorry and everybody's friends again!

They don't know what to make of the snake monster, alhough yesterday they met Balance (yeah, still behind with this thing!) and its finally starting to make some kind of sense.

 

[Rugult]

Hey, it's just like he's a jedi.

King: "Ohhhh I've done such terrible deeds, but now I'm good again."
Everyone else: "Yeah, makes sense to me."

Glad to see that Steppengard kept the crown in your campaign. Same thing happened in mine, but man was it a tense moment. Honestly I have to say that Adventure 4 still remains one of my favorites in the series, just for the 'politicing' and epic fight at the end.

 

[NarlethDrider]

i stayed up really late to read this thread(i have to get up in 4 hours to go to work;()----lookin forward to more! I might have to pick this series up

 

[amethal]

Mission to the Monastery of Two Winds
Act One – Journey through Ostalin

Scene 1 - Lyceum
April 1, 10am

Our heroes have arrived back from Dassen, and have spent some time basking in the glory of their achievements. Eventually, they are called into Simeon’s office. It seems the headmaster has another mission for them.

Simeon is accompanied by his two main aides, the abjurer Kiernan and the fire mage Katrina.

“I must ask you to keep what I tell you confidential,” says Simeon. “We have cleaned out several nests of Ragesian agents, but I am convinced that there are more spies in the town who we haven’t identified.

“At the moment, the situation is fairly good, or at least as good as we can reasonably hope for. You’ve managed to stall the Third Ragesian Army on the border of Dassen. The First Army is still scattered around Sindaire, trying to find a way through the firestorm into Castle Korstull.

“The Second Army has taken Gate Pass, but is having trouble with the resistance.”

Katrina interrupts at this point. “I gather my brother Rantle is proving a serious thorn in their sides. I had hoped he’d leave Gate Pass and join me here in Seaquen, but he has other ideas.”

“The Fourth Army is moving into northern Shahalesti,” continues Simeon. “Our information from the region is sketchy, but it appears the elves are being forced to retreat. I suspect they will soon attempt to sue for peace. Whether or not Leska will listen is anybody’s guess. Her strategy so far has been baffling. The only place the Ragesians seem interested in holding on to territory is in Gate Pass; everywhere else they march in, overcome any defences and march out again.

“You may remember that in the aftermath of the storm which struck Seaquen there was evidence linking the catastrophe with the Monastery of Two Winds. Our treacherous harbourmaster, the druid Lee, trained there originally, and the item he used to control the weather had signs of having been created there.”

“I am sure the monastery had nothing to do with the storm”, says Caryk. “The two leaders, my erstwhile master, Longinus, and his brother Pilus, have long pursued a policy of neutrality. Also, what could they possibly gain from the town’s destruction?”

“Indeed,” replies Simeon. “You may remember the refugee monks from Ycengled, led by Three Weeping Ravens. He and his followers sought sanctuary at the monastery when they were driven from their forest temple, but the Two Winds monks would not let them in, all part of their much vaunted neutrality.

“However, it was our only lead. Whilst you were on your mission to Dassen, we sent a group of five brave people to the investigate the Monastery. Longinus and Pilus refused to see them, presumably in order to maintain their neutral stance.

“Then, we received a message from them saying that a company of Ragesian soldiers had arrived in the town, and were trying to attack the monastery. Considering its content, the tone of the message was strangely calm, and we have heard nothing since.”

“Why the Ragesians would be interested in the monastery is a mystery,” says Kiernan. “Its on the border between Ostalin and Sindaire, and fairly close to Castle Korstull. But so are plenty of other places, and the monks are skilled in air magic, particularly the two leaders. It would be a tough nut to crack, so the Ragesians would need a compelling reason to attack it.”

“I attempted a divination,” says Simeon. “The results, as usual, were cryptic. ‘No single wind can destroy the Torch’s fire, but a second wind could be its ruin.’ We take this to mean that the leaders of the monastery might be able to create a magical wind which will blow away the firestorm around Castle Korstull for long enough for a team to enter the castle and search for the torch.

“This we would like you to undertake a mission to the monastery. See if you can find out what, if anything, has happened to the previous group. Investigate any connection between the monastery and the magical storm in Seaquen. But primarily, your goal is to try and enlist the aid of the monks against the firestorm, and then enter and search Castle Korstull. What do you say?”

After a short discussion, the party accepts the mission.

“Good,” says Simeon. “You are the ideal choices, as Caryk is familiar with the monastery and its region. It’s a long journey, but Katrina has come up with a plan.”

“The leader of the Wayfarers, Sheena Larkins, can teleport you there,” says Katrina. “Apparently she is able to polymorph you all into red dragons or similar fire immune creatures, enabling you to avoid the effect of the Burning Sky.”

“Unfortunately, your plan would kill us all,” says Jonathan dryly. “Such magic can provide the outward seeming of a dragon, as well as its mundane features like tough hide, wings and large claws, but does not allow access to its more supernatural abilities. I very much wish it did.”

Simeon and Kiernan exchange dismayed glances. “I see,” says Simeon. “Unfortunately neither of us have any experience with transmutation magic. Our specialities lie elsewhere.”

“I can make you all extremely resistant to fire,” says Kiernan. “We have established that the effect of the Burning Sky is least strong at midnight. An attempt to teleport then should be survivable.”

“It’ll certainly be survivable by you,” retorts Gribron. “After all, you aren’t coming with us. I think we’d need a bit more of a guarantee, if its all the same to you.”

Jonathan thinks for a moment. “Kiernan is an adept mage, and its not that far to the monastery. Let me see, based on what we know of the effects, adjust exponently for the distance, carry the two, add a margin for error ….. Yes, I can survive such a trip.”

“What about the rest of us?” asks Agatha.

“The pixie is the frailest, but I calculate he’d be very unlucky if he actually died from the experience. The rest of you should suffer no more than third degree burns.”

The party spend the day preparing for their trip, and assemble at the town gates the next morning.

Sheena Larkins is there with Simeon. “I am most familiar with the city of Yen-Ching, on the Ostalin side of the mountain,” says Sheena. I will transport you to the private garden of a friend of mine. You will then have to obtain horses for a trip to the monastery, which will take a couple of days.

“I could try and scry out a site closer to the monastery, but that greatly increases the risk of you arriving somewhere other than intended.”

The group have to head out ten miles into the swamp, as the teleportation beacon in Seaquen is still operating as a trap for those trying to teleport within the confines of the town unwary. The trek passes without incident, and they make good time. Then there is nothing to do but camp and wait for midnight.

Sheena casts the spell, and the party vanishes …..

Scene 2 – Ostalin
April 1, Midnight

The party arrive in Yen-Chin in a massive ball of flame.

“I hope we haven’t set fire to the garden,” thinks Solsus, but when the flame clears it becomes evident that will not be an issue.

The party are standing in a metal cage, next to a black object which looks very similar to the teleportation beacon in Seaquen. The cage is in the centre of a courtyard, flanked by four towers. Ostalin soldiers stand on top of the towers, aiming longbows at their new arrivals.

A woman on one of the towers calls out,” Identify yourselves or die!”

“I am Sir Jonathan Farrier,” says Jonathan. The rest of the group also identify themselves, except for Solsus, who has turned invisible and is hoping for the best.

“I am Captain Felpan of the Ostalin Royal Guard,” replies the woman. “My lord will wish to question you. Throw down you weapons and we will let you out of the cage. Your equipment will be returned to you once we are satisfied your intentions are not hostile, and you will be free to leave.”

The group throws down their various weapons, some with more reluctance than others – it is clear they have no choice.

Captain Felpan and her men lead them to a small villa on the edge of the courtyard. They walk past numerous silent guards; whoever the lord is he is clearly well protected. They are taken to a soft, comfortable room with dozens of plush beds and the strong spell of incense.

Standing in the centre of the room is a tall, dark haired young man apparently in his mid twenties. He is wearing a richly decorated uniform, but has an odd appearance. His face seems to be a bizarre and anatomically impossible combination of orc and elf.

Captain Felpan bows. “I present to you the Grand Khagan, ruler of Ostalin, his m\ajesty, my lord Onamdammin.”

“The hour is late, so let us keep this brief,” says Onamdammin. “Who are you, where are you from and why are you in my northernmost city?”

True to his word, the interview is short – which is fortunate, because the party are hard pressed not to stare at the Khagan’s bizarre face. He is familiar with the monastery, and scoffs at the news that the Ragesians have laid siege to it. He is confident “my close friend Pilus” will be more than capable of driving off even a battalion of Ragesians.

He then terminates the interview, but offers the party the attentions of his harem for the night.

After some hesitation, the party accept his offer. They learn a number of interesting facts about the Khagan from the harem. The previous Khagan was a mighty human warlord, who dramatically expanded the kingdom’s borders. His son, however, is not the man his father was – literally in this case, since Onamdammin is a half elf..

Growing up in a world dominated by the half orc emperor Coaltongue, Onamdammin came to see his elven blood as weakness, and turned to biomancy in order to make himself more like an orc. A recent fey arrival in his harem took pity on his “curse” and attempted to “heal” him, resulting in the current mishmash of elf and orc features.

The Khagan had the well meaning fey petrified. All fey who enter Ostalin are similarly turned to stone – there is an audible gulp from the corner of the room at this point, but there is nobody there. The monk Pilus is a master of biomancy, and is working on a solution for the Khagan.

 

[amethal]

Scene 3 – the Mountains
April 2nd

Eager to leave Yen-Chin behind, the party buy horses and head into the mountains. Caryk knows the way, and leads them along the trail. The roads are steep, and in some places stairways have been carved out of the cliffs, complete with winches to aid mounts and pack animals.

As usual, Solsus flies ahead to scout out the terrain, and at one point he returns and informs the party that the steps up ahead are broken, resulting in a treacherous scree slope.

“Can we get up the slope?” asks Caryk. “It is not far from here to Eresh, the village at the foot of the monastery.”

“Probably,” says Solsus, “but it looks a good spot for an ambush. I’ll go back and check it out.”

Solsus flies back to the scree slope, and spots a small group of Ragesian soldiers hiding at the top of the slope. Forewarned, the party are able to spring the trap, although the sudden appearance of a fire slinging goblin sorcerer, riding a dire wolf, proves somewhat alarming.

Then its on to Eresh itself, which is believed to be under siege by a company of Ragesian soldiers. The siege itself is very disappointing – the soldiers wander around aimlessly, and seem to have no interest in assaulting the village. They are accompanied by a number of hellhounds, who are currently curled up around a camp fire as if they were nothing more than large dogs.

The party is able to wander into the camp unchallenged. The strangely calm message from the previous expedition to the monastery might be a symptom of a wider malaise. The group decide to speak to the leader of the soldiers; a sergeant half heartedly points them in the direction of Lieutenant Kormus’s command tent.

Kormus is drunk. “Hello,” he says, on seeing the characters. Then he slumps back in his seat.

“What is going on,” asks Jonathan.

“Nothing, much. We’re supposed to be pressing the attack on the village, but none of us are really motivated, we’re just killing time until General Signus gets back.”

“Whose General Signus?” says Agatha.

“He’s my commanding officer. He led the original attack on the village. It went quite well at first, but then everyone descended into apathy. The General wasn’t happy, and left to get more troops.”

“What happens when he gets back?” asks Gribron.

“He’ll probably hang me,” says Kormus. “I guess I deserve it. I’m a rotten leader.”

“Shouldn’t you either carry out your orders, or run away?” says Gribron.

“I suppose so, but I can’t be bothered. Everything seems too much effort at the moment. We are all just going through the motions.”

“So you won’t be needing your sword, then?” says Gribron.

“I suppose not. Got no use for a sword any more.”

“Can I have it?”

Lieutenant Kormus thinks about this for a second, takes another pull on his wineskin, and then hands over his sword. Gribron’s eyes light up; it is clearly a high quality weapon.

“Thanks,” says Gribron. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“Whatever.”

The party head towards the village. That side of the camp is guarded by a squad of soldiers. “Hey,” says one of them. “Stop. You can’t go in there.”

“Yes we can,” says Jonathan, and the group heads past the guards, who scowl at them for a minute and then slump back into despondency.

Act Two – The Calm over Eresh

Scene 1 - Eresh
April 5th

The village of Eresh is extremely calm. A few burnt out buildings mark the extent of the Ragesian’s previous attack. Villagers sit on their front steps, staring into space. A few Ragesian soldiers wander around aimlessly. It is clear that it is not just the Ragesian camp which has fallen into apathy.

“What’s going on, do you think?” says Jonathan.

“Who cares?” replies Gribron. “I think I’m just going to sit down here for a while.”

“Me too,” says Agatha. “What’s the point of all this rushing around. Let’s take it easy.”

“Come on chaps,” says Caryk. “We need to find out what’s going on.”

“You do it,” says Gribron, closing his eyes.

“Not going to get much out of them,” says Jonathan. “How are you feeling Solsus?”

“Perfectly normal,” says the pixie. “I worry about the villagers, however. They seem even more badly affected than the soldiers. Some of them look pretty thin and emaciated. They might not be eating properly.”

“Go and scout around, see if there are any clues.”

Solsus flies off, and returns a few minutes later. “I did see one villager who seemed unaffected. Maybe we should speak to her.”

The party head where he indicated, although cajoling the more apathetic members into keeping up is a full time task. The villager nods at them, beckons, and then disappears into her house.

Jonathan and Caryk follow her in, whilst Solsus keeps watch. The house itself is empty apart from veils hanging from the ceiling to the floor. There is no furniture of any kind. It is clear nobody could live here.

A woman’s voice calls out from behind the veils, “We are Balance. You have met our kin.”

Caryk steps forward, only to see the woman vanish before his eyes. Instead a man’s voice speaks from behind him. “The scales weigh heavily and you actions will tip it.” Caryk turns around in time to see the figure of a man fade from sight.

“This place gets weirder by the minute,” says Jonathan. “What kin? What scales?”

“I have no idea,” says Caryk. “Perhaps we should head up to the monastery. Perhaps they can give us a clue as to what the heck is happening here.”

Caryk leads the way to the mountain at the far end of the village, although in truth the massive monastery building is perched in such a spot as to be clearly visible from any point in the village. The path is steep and narrow. At the bottom is a sign which reads, “Quarantine conditions; no access to the monastery”.

“Do you think that applies to us?” says Caryk. “We aren’t villagers or Ragesians, and I spent many years studying here before they insisted I leave.”

“We are on an important mission,” says Solsus. “We need to visit the monastery as part of that.”

The wind starts to pick up as the group heads up the mountain path, making an already difficult ascent even harder. The snow and ice doesn’t help either.

“Its almost like the wind doesn’t want us to climb this mountain,” says Jonathan.

“Its funny you should say that,” says Caryk. “Its been years since I’ve been here, but something has been nagging me. Something I half heard once, about the quarantine procedure.”

Suddenly the air in front of them coalesces into a vaguely humanoid form. It stretches out its arms, and gale force winds thrust the party back down the path. They land in a heap, bruised and battered. The wind creature strides towards them menacingly.

“Air elemental guards, of course! I remember now,” says Caryk.

“That has really pissed me off,” says Gribron. “Everything was so calm and peaceful, but now I’m mad!”

“Me too,” says Agatha, launching an eldritch blast at the elemental.

With all the party now back to normal (whatever that implies …) they soon see off the elemental, and arrive at the monastery’s massive doors. The doors are firmly locked. Caryk bangs the knocker. There is silence for a minute or so, and then a small plate opens in the door, revealing the eyes and nose of a woman.

“Greetings,” says Caryk. “I am …

“Begone with your curse!” the woman interrupts. “The masters have said outsiders are not welcome.”

“We are on a mission from Seaquen,” says Gribron. “We wish to speak to your masters.”

“There are strange things afoot in the valley,” replies the woman. “Ever since you outsiders brought your curse into town. We know your origin, and your task, and that your allies were harbingers of the unnatural stillness. It cannot be allowed to spread to the monastery.

“If you wish to see masters, first sort out the mess down there.”

The panel slams shut.

Shrugging, the party head back down into Eresh.