Hey all,
After our two week break, I wanted to touch base and fill everyone in on some of the changes that have gone on in the game.
First order of business, I really like labeling these things fireside chats. I usually do sip a little brandy when I write these, and it's hot enough outside to act as a roaring fire. I don't own a smoking jacket, but I'm working on it.
Second order of business, we'll be starting our August 4th session a little later than normal at 8:30 PM. Its Portia/Dave's birthday that night, so wish him well! He'll be joining us a little later and, since this is boss fight and the culmination of an important quest, I think he deserves to participate in it.
Thirdly, we've unfortunately lost Giers/Jill and Hulda/Steve from the game. They're going on indefinite hiatuses, as life, work and the ability to continue our game have been disrupted for them. As long-time players, it's sad to see them go, but sometimes it's just best. I promise I won't kill their characters in gory dragon-related deaths... What?...... Honest! ......... I'm being serious!
On that note, we're back down to what WotC labels the "optimum" group. Five people, all of whom I think (hope) (believe) are still able to continue. I understand this will shift the group dynamic in all sorts of unexpected ways, but I don't necessarily see that as a bad thing. Times do change. Characters will continue to grow and develop. So long as you all are willing to continue, then there is yet a story to be told and fun to be had.
I hereby promise unexpected twists, deadly perils and character-centric rp, as well as gross and obscene descriptions where I can fit them.
Oh, on a fourth note, Divine Power came out. If you guys have it, there's a ton of new options for divine classes. I've taken the liberty of editing our Religion section so it now includes the domains of all the gods, just in case any of you take some domain feats.
So two weeks has really seen a lot of changes. Looking forward to getting back into things.
Best,
Rob
Friday, July 31, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Session 31: Feylurks
Morning, Kelehess 29th
(31 days total, 14 days until the New Moon)
Drained Passages
The group woke to find the flooded chamber they'd slept in completely drained. Relic remarked he'd watched it all night flowing down an unexplored passage, the one Kaylan recognized her vine horror abductor dragged her down. The group collected themselves and chose to follow the path, avoiding the clingy naiads and whatever else lurked in their steamy grotto.
They moved through several chambers, all of them drained and muddy. This section was once the basement of Blackdelve Asylum, what several in the group recognized was a converted Gloriandeline structure. They eventually came to a burst wall, looking like some tremendous pressure had blown outward.
Caves loomed beyond the breach, but on closer inspection it was discovered these caves were artificial, carved into the limestone foundations of the Black Forest and made to look natural, even down to the stalactites and stalagmites. Peculiar, to say the least, and requiring some great amount of skill.
Chewed Through
The group eventually came to a high wall of the same black stone the asylum was built from, in the ancient elven style, three times the height of a man. It looks to be some sort of dam, but it'd been compromized with a gaping hole some twenty feet wide. The hole in the wall was not burst through like the basement prior, instead it looked... chewed through.
Some very keen detective work and knowledge of nature deduced the chewing done by mandibles... of ants, but giant ants. Though no recorded species of ant was even remotely large enough to do this on Othyr, with fey and the Wild anything was possible.
The Device
Following the mud flow, the group found a second cavern with a second chewed-through dam. Beyond this was a fifty-foot wide sinkhole that looked chewed into the stone itself. Deep below and out of sight the sound of rushing water echoed. There was an underground river rushing beneath them, one the flood waters of lastnight had been emptied into.
It was really no great surprise, some of the scions surmised, for Gloriandelines often build structures over such natural occurences as underwater rivers, geysers, natural gas pockets, even volcanoes, their advanced techniques capable of harnessing these natural forces into such long-lost miracles as indoor plumbing and central air.
Some also notices huge, black pipes in a marble not unlike the dam walls or the asylum itself, running along the walls of the cavern and plunging into the ground near the sinkhole and the underground river. Gloriandelines also harnessed natural features when designing their traps and wards. These pipes at one time had drank water from the underground river and flooded the basement. Kaylan and Portia recalled a story to that effect during their first plunge beneath Blackdelve. The cultists were making small talk, discussing how near a hundred years ago curious doctors from the asylum above were looking for yet more space to keep their loons. They accidentally triggered a Gloriandeline trap which flooded the basement and killed them. The section was closed off ever since.
Though Kaylan couldn't have suspected why there was a trap in the basement then, she knew quite well now. This ancient elven structure was built over the resting place of her uncle, Dazeen the Uniter, whose power to join the Hearts was well-worth protecting.
Though Diana was tempted to trace the pipes back into the first cave and learn the finer mechanisms of the device, the group was anxious to press on.
Fungal Gardens
They came to a cross section of three passages. The cleric has no memory of which way she was taken, thus it was ultimately put up to a guess. The guess was right. The group followed an ever-narrowing-and-expanding tunnel until they entered a low, wide cavern overwhelmed with fungi. It dangled from the ceiling, covered the floor, strangled the walls, and emitted all sorts of sour odors. It was like being in the earth's arm pit. And in that colorful, humid, steamy place things lurked...
Faerie Dragons
It wasn't long before the keepers of the fungal gardens appeared, cat-sized crosses between dragons and butterflies, with brilliant wings, bulging eyes and sweet, melodic voices. They proved a numerous lot, forty in all, which surrounded you without a single air of menace (except for Killerqueen, of course). They were above all curious, and energetic, wondering all sorts of things and thrilled to have made your acquaintances. Given the nature of previously-met fey, and their large numbers, this was quite a relief for the group.
If a leader had to be named, it was Lashbat, the first to engage the group and the one that seemed to talk most on the collectives behalf. Then there was Ladyrose, a pink, gentle creature that took an interest in Relic. Droppedegg was perhaps the most innocent of them all, a slow, overweight faerie dragon with a crush on the cleric. Others also made themselves known, like the easily-distracted Spewn who fell in love with Portia's shinies and the unsatisfiable Bloodbelly who ate all of Thamior's rations. And Killerqueen, oh Killerqueen, the cruelest of the lot, who scowled and criticized Hulda and her small puppet show wherever she could.
Chatty
Faerie dragons love to talk, the group quickly discovered as they subtly drew information about the operations going on beneath Blackdelve. These creatures, and the larger assortment of fey under Greentongue, were missionaries of sorts, bringing the message of the Green God to the outworld of Othyr. Innocent though they were, the faerie dragons described some rather brutal methods of conversion, including threatening lives and families, which they were oblivious were 'bad'. Rather they hailed them as ingeniusly efficient and praised Greentongue for thinking them up. They'd been converting Nors patients, doctors and select others for over a month, using them to help dig beneath the asylum in search of the Tomb of the Uniter. Kaylan already knew Ghisidhran's interest in that, eventual godhood.
They also gave some loose guesses as to the numbers still ahead and the path the group must take in order to reach the tomb.
The Tribute Songs
Giers, still a little shocked there wasn't about to be a huge fight against the typically-hostile fey, asked if that was all and could they pass. Sensing the expectation of something more, Lashbat quickly puffed out his check and flashed his wings, suddenly demanding tribute of some sort before passing their domain.
When rations were offered, all forty of them looked ready to pounce. Lashbat collected the food and went about flying around the garden, peppering his subjects with trail meals. Over the course of a few minutes, the dragons ate them all, even what was in the groups' packs.
Still not entirely satisfied, Diana offered them a song. This, more than even food, captivated them. They huddled close to listen as Diana stepped up to sing. Clearing her throat, she released a... lukewarm performance, one that the faerie dragonsbarely stirred for. Giers was next, a son of bards and performers, picking up the pace a little with a more jovial bar tune, but the lyrics were a little over the heads of the faerie dragons and the telling a bit too gutteral. Kaylan, rolling her eyes a bit, thought what the hell and threw her hat into the ring. She sung a sad song, haunting really, with such sudden force and emotion is literally scared the nest of fey.
Kaylan felt very self-conscious then, but the group assured her it was beautiful. Eventually she came to realize that it was sung with such conviction and beauty that it moved all forty into hiding. Droppedegg was shivering beneath Kaylan's skirts, hugging her leg and asking if the scary lady was gone. The others slowly crept out, too, Lashbat holding a golden vial. For her great performance, he gifted her with a vial of Dragon Repellant, to ward against the negative effects of a dragon attack. He gave a little wink as he explained it, calling into question just how naive the faerie dragons really were, and whether or not they guessed at the group's true purpose.
Slave Pits
The group continued into a larger cavern with less fungi and three massive pits chewed into the ground. Dozens of Nors doctors and patients, wounded and shivering, slept dreamless sleeps born out of overworking. Patrolling the filthy pits were slithering vine horrors, sucking up the human wastes for sustenance, and leaving trails of swamp water and bugs. Whip-happy redcap spriggans, looking like deformed gnomes with ugly grills and sharp claws, also kept weather eyes.
Two passages on either side of the cavern led on, the group deciding on the eastern passage when a few slaves passed through that way. However a fight seemed inevitable, for half the group proved near-impossible to sneak.
Cha-Cha-Changes
With unnerving frequency, Thamior seemed to switch attitudes and positions. One moment he would be the calm and dedicated protector the group had come to know, an elf valuing life and freedom, and the next he seemed... someone else, a person who despised weakness and the needy, concerned only with his own goals. Fearful some fey glamor had been placed on him, several in the group attempted to diagnose this condition, only to discover nothing arcane about it.
Though worrisome to say the least, more pressing matters and Thamior's ability to regain his composure allowed the group to continue on.
The Rubble Room
As Lashbat advised, the group managed their way to the rubble room, a cavern riddled with cart-sized holes. Piles of broken stone lay strewn before the openings. A deafening clicking sound, insect-like, pervaded the area. Suddenly a set of giant mandibles lurched out from one of the openings and dragged a few boulders back inside. The giant ants were quite real. More mandibles from different openings picked at their respective piles.
Slaves shoving carts passed up from an exit passage, pushing more loads to feed the ants. Though they seemed unperturbed by the presence of these massive creatures, the group wanted out as soon as possible. Relic hid in a cart, Hulda in another. Heads down, the rest pushed their way down into a small, fungal forest. Though some slaves noticed the group's unusual makeup, they thought nothing of it amidst fey and monsters.
Spore Bowl
A wide, low cielinged cavern awaited them, the largest yet, with a bowl-shaped bottom choked with giant, yellow spores. Man-sized, funnel-shaped fungi almost constantly spewed the stuff out, so that it choked the air and gave everything a yellowy-green tinge. The group took a worn path through the thickets of fungi and to a black stone opening of obvious Gloriandeline style, vaulted and imposing, with a black staircase leading downward.
The Seals
Three black stone chambers laid beyond, with black pillars and vaulted cielings, and three heavy stone doors swung wide, allowing access further into the Tomb of the Uniter. Dozens and dozens of human doctors and patients turned slave laborers worked in assembly lines, passing rubble down through the rooms and into carts to be emptied into the rubble room and cleared by the ants. The lot of them looked miserable, exhausted, and lost deep within themselves.
The group passed by unnoticed, wheeling their way toward a confrontation.
Versus the Excavation Team
The long line of patients and doctors eventually led to the chamber of the third seal and the place of the digging. Various tunnels had been bore into the wall, while various human teams moved the debris out of the way. Concentrated of a long, black set of steps and a great door were two fey, no larger than gnomes, with over-sized fists punching as hard as they could against the barrier. Spriggans, Redcaps, mean and determined, were directed by the twin Norswomen from the church a few days ago.
Surprised by the intrusion, the fey were quickly put on the defensive, one they never really recovered from. Though the twins were able to call on baleful magic to blind and slow and sear, not even the spriggan giantsouls could defend them from the group's combined onslaught. One by one they fell, Kaylan even inspiring their slaves to rise against them.
When the dust cleared, the group was victorious. The spriggans were dead, and Thamior lifted a fine leather-and-steel belt. Diana removed the second twin's cloak, only to watch as the twins' Nors appearance faded and they became thin, albino creatures with but the faintest of features and the thinnest of hair. Changelings.
Behind the Elven Door...
And so Ghisidhran growled angrily at his dead minions behind the immovable Elven Door, the fourth seal and the last barrier between the group and the green, Heart-hungry, fey-powered dragon. How quickly he's learned to despise them so, Kaylan most of all.
Experience: 400 xp each (11,291 total)
Magic: Dragon Repellent (Kaylan, from Lashbat), Cape of the Mounteback (Diana, off Twin 2), Belt of Vim (Thamior, off of a Spriggan Giantsoul)
Money: 1400 gp (200 each)
Loot: Group lost all trail rations
NPCs:
Lashbat, defacto leader of the Blackdelve faerie dragons
Droppedegg, slow faerie dragon with a crush on Kaylan
Ladyrose, pretty faerie dragon that took a liking to Relic
Killerqueen, mean faerie dragon that only mildly hated Hulda
Spewm, easily-distracted faerie dragon with an obsession for Portia's shinies
Bloodbelly, faerie dragon who ate all of Thamior's rations
Redcap Spriggans, twisted gnomes with blood-soaked caps and surprising strength
Asylum Doctors, doctors of Blackdelve Asylum kidnapped by fey and made to work moving rubble
Asylum Patients, patients of Blackdelve Asylum kidnapped by fey and made to work moving rubble
Note: Those who gave me wish lists have first dibs on the gear they mentioned, thus Diana gets the Cloak of the Mounteback and Thamior the Belt of Vim.
Dragon Repellent
Drinking this golden liquid immunizes you from the ravages of dragonkind.
Level: 13
Price: 650 gp
Potion
Power (Consumable): Minor Action. Use this power after you drink the elixir. Once during this encounter, you can automatically save against one condition placed on you by a dragon or a creature with the dragon type. Use this as an immediate reaction to a condition being placed on you.
Cape of the Mountebank
With a flourish of this silk-hemmed garment, you transport out of harm’s way.
Level: 5
Price: 1000 gp
Item Slot: Neck
Enhancement: +1 Fortitude, Reflex, and Will
Power (Daily • Teleportation): Immediate Reaction. Use this power when you are hit by an attack. Teleport 5 squares and gain combat advantage against the attacker until the end of your next turn.
Belt of Vim
You feel hale and hearty while wearing this wide belt.
Level: 8
Price: 3400 gp
Item Slot: Waist
Property: Gain a +1 bonus to Fortitude defense.
Cruel Ultimatum
Fourteen Days and Counting...
(31 days total, 14 days until the New Moon)
Drained Passages
The group woke to find the flooded chamber they'd slept in completely drained. Relic remarked he'd watched it all night flowing down an unexplored passage, the one Kaylan recognized her vine horror abductor dragged her down. The group collected themselves and chose to follow the path, avoiding the clingy naiads and whatever else lurked in their steamy grotto.
They moved through several chambers, all of them drained and muddy. This section was once the basement of Blackdelve Asylum, what several in the group recognized was a converted Gloriandeline structure. They eventually came to a burst wall, looking like some tremendous pressure had blown outward.
Caves loomed beyond the breach, but on closer inspection it was discovered these caves were artificial, carved into the limestone foundations of the Black Forest and made to look natural, even down to the stalactites and stalagmites. Peculiar, to say the least, and requiring some great amount of skill.
Chewed Through
The group eventually came to a high wall of the same black stone the asylum was built from, in the ancient elven style, three times the height of a man. It looks to be some sort of dam, but it'd been compromized with a gaping hole some twenty feet wide. The hole in the wall was not burst through like the basement prior, instead it looked... chewed through.
Some very keen detective work and knowledge of nature deduced the chewing done by mandibles... of ants, but giant ants. Though no recorded species of ant was even remotely large enough to do this on Othyr, with fey and the Wild anything was possible.
The Device
Following the mud flow, the group found a second cavern with a second chewed-through dam. Beyond this was a fifty-foot wide sinkhole that looked chewed into the stone itself. Deep below and out of sight the sound of rushing water echoed. There was an underground river rushing beneath them, one the flood waters of lastnight had been emptied into.
It was really no great surprise, some of the scions surmised, for Gloriandelines often build structures over such natural occurences as underwater rivers, geysers, natural gas pockets, even volcanoes, their advanced techniques capable of harnessing these natural forces into such long-lost miracles as indoor plumbing and central air.
Some also notices huge, black pipes in a marble not unlike the dam walls or the asylum itself, running along the walls of the cavern and plunging into the ground near the sinkhole and the underground river. Gloriandelines also harnessed natural features when designing their traps and wards. These pipes at one time had drank water from the underground river and flooded the basement. Kaylan and Portia recalled a story to that effect during their first plunge beneath Blackdelve. The cultists were making small talk, discussing how near a hundred years ago curious doctors from the asylum above were looking for yet more space to keep their loons. They accidentally triggered a Gloriandeline trap which flooded the basement and killed them. The section was closed off ever since.
Though Kaylan couldn't have suspected why there was a trap in the basement then, she knew quite well now. This ancient elven structure was built over the resting place of her uncle, Dazeen the Uniter, whose power to join the Hearts was well-worth protecting.
Though Diana was tempted to trace the pipes back into the first cave and learn the finer mechanisms of the device, the group was anxious to press on.
Fungal Gardens
They came to a cross section of three passages. The cleric has no memory of which way she was taken, thus it was ultimately put up to a guess. The guess was right. The group followed an ever-narrowing-and-expanding tunnel until they entered a low, wide cavern overwhelmed with fungi. It dangled from the ceiling, covered the floor, strangled the walls, and emitted all sorts of sour odors. It was like being in the earth's arm pit. And in that colorful, humid, steamy place things lurked...
Faerie Dragons
It wasn't long before the keepers of the fungal gardens appeared, cat-sized crosses between dragons and butterflies, with brilliant wings, bulging eyes and sweet, melodic voices. They proved a numerous lot, forty in all, which surrounded you without a single air of menace (except for Killerqueen, of course). They were above all curious, and energetic, wondering all sorts of things and thrilled to have made your acquaintances. Given the nature of previously-met fey, and their large numbers, this was quite a relief for the group.
If a leader had to be named, it was Lashbat, the first to engage the group and the one that seemed to talk most on the collectives behalf. Then there was Ladyrose, a pink, gentle creature that took an interest in Relic. Droppedegg was perhaps the most innocent of them all, a slow, overweight faerie dragon with a crush on the cleric. Others also made themselves known, like the easily-distracted Spewn who fell in love with Portia's shinies and the unsatisfiable Bloodbelly who ate all of Thamior's rations. And Killerqueen, oh Killerqueen, the cruelest of the lot, who scowled and criticized Hulda and her small puppet show wherever she could.
Chatty
Faerie dragons love to talk, the group quickly discovered as they subtly drew information about the operations going on beneath Blackdelve. These creatures, and the larger assortment of fey under Greentongue, were missionaries of sorts, bringing the message of the Green God to the outworld of Othyr. Innocent though they were, the faerie dragons described some rather brutal methods of conversion, including threatening lives and families, which they were oblivious were 'bad'. Rather they hailed them as ingeniusly efficient and praised Greentongue for thinking them up. They'd been converting Nors patients, doctors and select others for over a month, using them to help dig beneath the asylum in search of the Tomb of the Uniter. Kaylan already knew Ghisidhran's interest in that, eventual godhood.
They also gave some loose guesses as to the numbers still ahead and the path the group must take in order to reach the tomb.
The Tribute Songs
Giers, still a little shocked there wasn't about to be a huge fight against the typically-hostile fey, asked if that was all and could they pass. Sensing the expectation of something more, Lashbat quickly puffed out his check and flashed his wings, suddenly demanding tribute of some sort before passing their domain.
When rations were offered, all forty of them looked ready to pounce. Lashbat collected the food and went about flying around the garden, peppering his subjects with trail meals. Over the course of a few minutes, the dragons ate them all, even what was in the groups' packs.
Still not entirely satisfied, Diana offered them a song. This, more than even food, captivated them. They huddled close to listen as Diana stepped up to sing. Clearing her throat, she released a... lukewarm performance, one that the faerie dragonsbarely stirred for. Giers was next, a son of bards and performers, picking up the pace a little with a more jovial bar tune, but the lyrics were a little over the heads of the faerie dragons and the telling a bit too gutteral. Kaylan, rolling her eyes a bit, thought what the hell and threw her hat into the ring. She sung a sad song, haunting really, with such sudden force and emotion is literally scared the nest of fey.
Kaylan felt very self-conscious then, but the group assured her it was beautiful. Eventually she came to realize that it was sung with such conviction and beauty that it moved all forty into hiding. Droppedegg was shivering beneath Kaylan's skirts, hugging her leg and asking if the scary lady was gone. The others slowly crept out, too, Lashbat holding a golden vial. For her great performance, he gifted her with a vial of Dragon Repellant, to ward against the negative effects of a dragon attack. He gave a little wink as he explained it, calling into question just how naive the faerie dragons really were, and whether or not they guessed at the group's true purpose.
Slave Pits
The group continued into a larger cavern with less fungi and three massive pits chewed into the ground. Dozens of Nors doctors and patients, wounded and shivering, slept dreamless sleeps born out of overworking. Patrolling the filthy pits were slithering vine horrors, sucking up the human wastes for sustenance, and leaving trails of swamp water and bugs. Whip-happy redcap spriggans, looking like deformed gnomes with ugly grills and sharp claws, also kept weather eyes.
Two passages on either side of the cavern led on, the group deciding on the eastern passage when a few slaves passed through that way. However a fight seemed inevitable, for half the group proved near-impossible to sneak.
Cha-Cha-Changes
With unnerving frequency, Thamior seemed to switch attitudes and positions. One moment he would be the calm and dedicated protector the group had come to know, an elf valuing life and freedom, and the next he seemed... someone else, a person who despised weakness and the needy, concerned only with his own goals. Fearful some fey glamor had been placed on him, several in the group attempted to diagnose this condition, only to discover nothing arcane about it.
Though worrisome to say the least, more pressing matters and Thamior's ability to regain his composure allowed the group to continue on.
The Rubble Room
As Lashbat advised, the group managed their way to the rubble room, a cavern riddled with cart-sized holes. Piles of broken stone lay strewn before the openings. A deafening clicking sound, insect-like, pervaded the area. Suddenly a set of giant mandibles lurched out from one of the openings and dragged a few boulders back inside. The giant ants were quite real. More mandibles from different openings picked at their respective piles.
Slaves shoving carts passed up from an exit passage, pushing more loads to feed the ants. Though they seemed unperturbed by the presence of these massive creatures, the group wanted out as soon as possible. Relic hid in a cart, Hulda in another. Heads down, the rest pushed their way down into a small, fungal forest. Though some slaves noticed the group's unusual makeup, they thought nothing of it amidst fey and monsters.
Spore Bowl
A wide, low cielinged cavern awaited them, the largest yet, with a bowl-shaped bottom choked with giant, yellow spores. Man-sized, funnel-shaped fungi almost constantly spewed the stuff out, so that it choked the air and gave everything a yellowy-green tinge. The group took a worn path through the thickets of fungi and to a black stone opening of obvious Gloriandeline style, vaulted and imposing, with a black staircase leading downward.
The Seals
Three black stone chambers laid beyond, with black pillars and vaulted cielings, and three heavy stone doors swung wide, allowing access further into the Tomb of the Uniter. Dozens and dozens of human doctors and patients turned slave laborers worked in assembly lines, passing rubble down through the rooms and into carts to be emptied into the rubble room and cleared by the ants. The lot of them looked miserable, exhausted, and lost deep within themselves.
The group passed by unnoticed, wheeling their way toward a confrontation.
Versus the Excavation Team
The long line of patients and doctors eventually led to the chamber of the third seal and the place of the digging. Various tunnels had been bore into the wall, while various human teams moved the debris out of the way. Concentrated of a long, black set of steps and a great door were two fey, no larger than gnomes, with over-sized fists punching as hard as they could against the barrier. Spriggans, Redcaps, mean and determined, were directed by the twin Norswomen from the church a few days ago.
Surprised by the intrusion, the fey were quickly put on the defensive, one they never really recovered from. Though the twins were able to call on baleful magic to blind and slow and sear, not even the spriggan giantsouls could defend them from the group's combined onslaught. One by one they fell, Kaylan even inspiring their slaves to rise against them.
When the dust cleared, the group was victorious. The spriggans were dead, and Thamior lifted a fine leather-and-steel belt. Diana removed the second twin's cloak, only to watch as the twins' Nors appearance faded and they became thin, albino creatures with but the faintest of features and the thinnest of hair. Changelings.
Behind the Elven Door...
And so Ghisidhran growled angrily at his dead minions behind the immovable Elven Door, the fourth seal and the last barrier between the group and the green, Heart-hungry, fey-powered dragon. How quickly he's learned to despise them so, Kaylan most of all.
Experience: 400 xp each (11,291 total)
Magic: Dragon Repellent (Kaylan, from Lashbat), Cape of the Mounteback (Diana, off Twin 2), Belt of Vim (Thamior, off of a Spriggan Giantsoul)
Money: 1400 gp (200 each)
Loot: Group lost all trail rations
NPCs:
Lashbat, defacto leader of the Blackdelve faerie dragons
Droppedegg, slow faerie dragon with a crush on Kaylan
Ladyrose, pretty faerie dragon that took a liking to Relic
Killerqueen, mean faerie dragon that only mildly hated Hulda
Spewm, easily-distracted faerie dragon with an obsession for Portia's shinies
Bloodbelly, faerie dragon who ate all of Thamior's rations
Redcap Spriggans, twisted gnomes with blood-soaked caps and surprising strength
Asylum Doctors, doctors of Blackdelve Asylum kidnapped by fey and made to work moving rubble
Asylum Patients, patients of Blackdelve Asylum kidnapped by fey and made to work moving rubble
Note: Those who gave me wish lists have first dibs on the gear they mentioned, thus Diana gets the Cloak of the Mounteback and Thamior the Belt of Vim.
Dragon Repellent
Drinking this golden liquid immunizes you from the ravages of dragonkind.
Level: 13
Price: 650 gp
Potion
Power (Consumable): Minor Action. Use this power after you drink the elixir. Once during this encounter, you can automatically save against one condition placed on you by a dragon or a creature with the dragon type. Use this as an immediate reaction to a condition being placed on you.
Cape of the Mountebank
With a flourish of this silk-hemmed garment, you transport out of harm’s way.
Level: 5
Price: 1000 gp
Item Slot: Neck
Enhancement: +1 Fortitude, Reflex, and Will
Power (Daily • Teleportation): Immediate Reaction. Use this power when you are hit by an attack. Teleport 5 squares and gain combat advantage against the attacker until the end of your next turn.
Belt of Vim
You feel hale and hearty while wearing this wide belt.
Level: 8
Price: 3400 gp
Item Slot: Waist
Property: Gain a +1 bonus to Fortitude defense.
Cruel Ultimatum
Fourteen Days and Counting...
- Reedthagn's will must still be done and Ghisidhran's tongue placed before him in the Tesseract, lest Blight be dropped on someone's home
- The group must pass under Blackdelve, enter the resting place of Dazeen the Uniter, slay Ghisidhran and then manage a way back to the Wild and to the ancient green's cube within a cube within a cube
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Makeup Session: Friday at 7pm
Thanks for your kind words and quick scheduling.
We'll make up the session Friday at 7pm (7/17/09) with a plunge into the fey-lurks of Blackdelve and the elven tomb at its foundation.
We should have a full group!
We'll make up the session Friday at 7pm (7/17/09) with a plunge into the fey-lurks of Blackdelve and the elven tomb at its foundation.
We should have a full group!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Session Canceled
I'm calling off Session 31 for 7/14/09 due to my recovering from food poisoning. It's not as bad today as it was yesterday or the day before, but I can't manage a full session yet. Sorry all, our 30 week streak has finally ended.
I'm hoping to be ready and able sometime this week if everyone is willing to have a makeup session. Just leave potential makeup dates for later this week in the comments section. Again, I hate to cancel, especially since I was so looking forward to our Blackdelve romp, but I want to feel well enough to manage it properly. Worse case scenario, I'll see everyone next Tuesday the 21st.
Right now, Friday or Sunday are looking like potential makeup sessions if everyone else is willing. If not, no big deal.
I guess I should also bring up the fact that there will be no session on 7/28/09 either, as I'll be in Arizona.
Best to you all and talk to you soon,
Pers
I'm hoping to be ready and able sometime this week if everyone is willing to have a makeup session. Just leave potential makeup dates for later this week in the comments section. Again, I hate to cancel, especially since I was so looking forward to our Blackdelve romp, but I want to feel well enough to manage it properly. Worse case scenario, I'll see everyone next Tuesday the 21st.
Right now, Friday or Sunday are looking like potential makeup sessions if everyone else is willing. If not, no big deal.
I guess I should also bring up the fact that there will be no session on 7/28/09 either, as I'll be in Arizona.
Best to you all and talk to you soon,
Pers
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Session 30: Red, Purple, Orange, Green
Night, Kelehess 28th - Morning, Kelehess 29th
(31 days total, 14 days until the New Moon)
The Rescuers
The two of them chased by different hunting parties, Diana and Relic met a week ago down the western roads into the Black Forest. Certainly not wanting to enter the heart of the Kingdom, their pursuers' relentless harrowing forced the issue. United by a common plight, the two fast became traveling companions, eventually finding themselves almost drawn to Provia. Making camp outside its bustle, they risked entering one night for fresh supplies and possibly a map, intending to make for safer lands. And boy did they pick the wrong night, as the Hand attacked and Crowperch was burned.
The pair were goodhearted enough to want to help, even as the screams of dying nobles (men, women and children) wafted over the rest of the city like so much ash and cinder. They braved the firestorm and found a grizzly mess on the ground floor of the manor. They managed to usher four children hidden in a broom closet to safety, then returned to brave the second floor of the now-burning manor.
Saving the Innocent
Diana and Relic burst into the library where Giers, Hulda, Portia, Kaylan and Thamior had just finished their fight with Gosha. Jeda had ran upstairs to the third floor, Kasimir's Suite, without heed. Portia was busy working on the locked door Erig had hid behind.
Introductions were very brief, as the sound of fire, the billowing of smoke, and the cries for help on the third floor urged Diana and Kaylan up to help. The rest of the group, considering leaving before the burning manor came down on them, resigned to follow. On the way up, the cieling of the stairwell nearly collapsed. Hulda leapt up and supported the crumbling structure with sheer muscle, urging the others to hurry with a grim look, but unwilling to pass off the burden to Relic when he offered.
Making it to the third floor, the group found it choked with smoke and in essence a large hall with doors to either side, all closed, some locked, nearly every one hot to the touch, and four of them with screaming behind them.
The first was a door with poor, burning children behind it. Kaylan and Thamior managed to get the door down, and the two whisked them to safety downstairs. Giers attended the second, where two sisters were trapped behind a fiery canopy bed. He carried each of them to the second floor, checked on Hulda, and practically flew back up. Diana attended the third, where it sound like a family was trapped behind, but the door was blocked by fallen debris. She tried to force it, then enlisted the paladin, but neither could budge it. Urging Giers to the fourth room at the end of the hall, Diana called on a frosty blast to explode the barrier, where upon she directed a grandfather, his son, a wife and a newborn down to the second.
Meanwhile, Relic attempted to kick down Portia's troublesome barrier, but heartland oak was strong. Portia pouted as the lock was now dented, and on top of it she was getting a growing collection of children dumped on her. Trying to keep them calm while she finally got the lock open, some were eventually whisked downstairs with Diana's fleeing family. The boggart appealed to Erig to help save his kin, which eventually got the young Norsman out of hiding and carrying two little boys down the stairs.
Portia quickly went about trying to find a safe alternative to having to cross the fiery fields and dragon skys in order to eventually leave this place.
The Master Bedroom
Giers and Kaylan were the first to enter the room at the end of the hall, followed shortly after by Thamior, then Diana and Relic. It was an expansive master bedroom with a great set of windows revealing the conflagration over the entire hill, where men ran screaming for their lives as Imperial Dragoons picked them off with fire, jaws and lances. And hanging like a red, winged moon was Yathnoc, reveling in the destruction.
Lord Kasimir Bertrum watched the destruction of all his holdings from his bed, strangling the sheets, a withered old bigit gone mad. In the corner were five terrified Gloriandeline slaves. But the most notable persons in the room would had to have been the circus master DeWitt himself, leaning against the window smiling at the new arrivals, his pallid companion Crematia beside him, along with a host of familiar circusfolk and a particularly strange freak dressed as a red-velvet devil jester with a fiery sword sheathed down his throat.
Jeda, Ispar and Blackguard Mnessi were poised to attack them.
They're MINE
Kaylan and Thamior were drawn to the plight of their elven kin, commanding the slaves to come with them to safety and freedom. Poor souls, their thousand years of servitude had made them cowards, especially scared of the crazy old master in the bed. Kasimir flung pillow and blanket at Kaylan, vowing the elves were his. Just like the rest of his ancestral holdings, they would perish by fire. His ranting scared the elves immobile.
Kaylan and Thamior defied him, eventually inspiring one of the elves to run into Kaylan's arms and begin sobbing. Thamior rushed to end this despicable situation, cutting off both of Lord Bertrum's arms before Kaylan incinerated him by Kalinda's phoenix fire.
The five slaves then fled downstairs and out of the manor, risking their lives across the fiery estate for freedom.
DeWitt Now
DeWitt, handsome and charming as ever, welcomed the group, especially pleased to see the face of his missing captive Giers. The circus master admitted that he had been the one behind the kidnappings, though what he wanted now were the Hearts. He was quite interested where the little green one was just then, and more so her green gem.
Giers charged, but the circus master was much more than he seemed, catching the paladin by the throat and spinning him around hard against the window pane. Offended by the brazen attack, DeWitt began strangling Giers.
Relic came from behind, arm raised to punch DeWitt from behind, but the circus master turned Giers into the punch, sending the ethrey crashing through the window and onto the burning lawn. He then backhanded Relic across the room and through a wall, proving himself supernaturally strong.
Kaylan rushed to the window to make sure her love was okay, even as Jeda pounced on Crematia, and Ispar and Blackguard Mnessi fought the fire eater and his host.
Ashes to Ashes
Before DeWitt could snatch Kaylan, Giers could climb back up, Thamior intervene or Relic fully recover, an explosive blast of dragon fire blew off a section of the roof. The raining debris, coupled with the already fire-weakened floor, caused the entire manor to pitch on its side. Everyone went sliding across the room, even as the floor broke apart into fiery pits. Jeda and Crematia fell down one, followed by a burp of flame, then joined by a furious DeWitt, the scrambling Ispar, the fire eater and the bodies of the fallen circusfolk and blackguard. The place was coming apart around them, the flame growing ever higher.
Cellar
Portia, meanwhile, continued her search for an alternate escape route, banking on Kasimir's paranoia having dug a tunnel or something. Unfortunately not, she found, having scoured the basement. She lifted some spirits and collected a rusty, mounted katana she hoped was the right one, and moved for the front door as the cieling fell around her.
She found Giers outside, clearing a way back in for the others. She joined the efforts, even as smoke and licks of flame shot at them. Once a path was made, the two dove back inside to help the others. The manor was groaning, supports and whole walls snapping apart, fire roaring hungrily.
Escape from Bertrum Manor
Those on the third floor hopped fallen beams, braved walls of fire, cleared chasms of broken flooring and the clouds of thick, black smoke to make it to the stairwell. Hulda, sweating and tired, spent her last ounces of strength to keep the cieling from caving. The group passed underneath her, Relic again offering to take the burden, Hulda again denying him. Everyone moved down the second floor, even as what remained of the third crumbled in a gust of cinder and ash. Hulda leaped away at the last possible moment, running for the next stairwell on the heels of the group.
But the way was blocked when the cieling on the second collapsed in front of the exit. Through alternate routes and a lot of muscle and dexterity, the group forced their way down to the ground floor, reunited with Portia and Giers, and burst from the crumbling, blazing manor.
Death-Defying
They weren't out of the estates yet, now faced with a long sprint over burning yards and gardens, blackened groves, crumbled low walls and melted iron fencing, to a breach in the outer wall. All the while swarms men bolted, half of them on fire, screaming for their lives. Imperial Dragoons circled and swooped, spewing fire at random and occasionally swooping in for a more visceral kill.
The initial fleeing was chaos, the group all moving in their own ways, tripping and scrambling and getting caught in ditches, fire and debris. However Portia arose as the one to follow, her acrobatic skills, coupled with her great knowledge of stealth and perception, marking a path through the pandemonium. The group ran along side and behind her, pointing out pitfalls and directing the train this way or that as benefited their greater stealth and speed. Timing circling dragons and fiery breaths, hopping hidden holes and finding perfect shadows, the group exploded across the yard.
A dragoon took notice of Portia's expert moving and swooped down to swallow the tender morsel. However the little boggart's agility was so great she avoided the attack, grounding the dragon and throwing it into a violent roll as it misjudged its mark. In that split second, Portia plucked a single red dragon scale in triumph.
It looked as if they were clear, until Thamior's selfless act of acting wounded so as to draw aggression off the others worked all too well. The wounded red, its rider dead, crawled for Thamior, even as Giers attended what real wounds Thamior had with some applied pressure and a forceful dragging for the opening. As its shadow cast over the the two, there was a sudden, explosion of fire, the red's last ditch effort to kill, which only managed to singe the ethrey and feladrin's tuckuses.
A Horrible Fate
Yathnoc landed, crashing into the ruins of the manor in all his seismic glory. Shimmering with heat like the open caldera of a volcano, the grass and trees withered and the nearest metal melted. Nearly as large as half the estate, he threw out his wings and thrashed his tail, taking out everything on the ground within a few hundred feet of the manor.
As the group passed out of the outer wall, some might have noticed he'd two very small purple dragons squirming in his grasp. Giers rued he wouldn't be able to kill those two himself, then fled after the others into the night streets where militia and night watch tried to keep control of the utter panic that had taken the entire city.
Making Acquaintances
In the small woods between manor houses, nearly in the shadow of Blackdelve, and temporarily away from the chaos, the group took a moment to catch their breaths. Diana and Relic were able to introduce themselves properly.
Kaylan seemed eager to send them on their way, siting the danger of what lied ahead, but Diana was entirely unwilling to brave the streets and the dragons with just her and Relic. Strength in numbers seemed a wise move, which Giers echoed. The cleric's anxiety only grew when she identified the fist-sized purple gem on Diana's belt and the marked orange glow beneath Relic's jacket. Hearts.
Momentarily overwhelmed, she sat down and revealed how she'd inherited her mothers ability to attract Hearts like a magnet. Ghisidhran had told her as much, and that her Uncle, Dazeen the Uniter, who was buried at the bottom of Blackdelve in ageless slumber, was the one able to unite all the Hearts and bestow the collector with the Power of Creation. Portia suggested they simply kill Dazeen and save the world, provoking a moral feedback from more than one in the group. Just where did greater good end and evil begin?
Relic and Diana were a little lost, prompting Giers to muster is oratory skills for a telling of the scions' adventures thus far. Diana was a bit confused by the Hearts parts, but Relic was enthralled, finding himself thankful he'd met up with such a group. Though the group explained the Hearts were gems corresponding to the known planes that, when united by Dazeen could greant the collector the power of the old creator goddesses, the finer mechanics were still drawing blanks for the dark girl. Truthfully the finer mechanics weren't entirely well-known to any in the group, suffice to say uniting was bad.
Concerns also shifted to Blight and Reedthagn's ultimatum, a deadline fast approaching and which spurred the group into this flooded dungeon in the first place. Kaylan really, really didn't want to see Ghisidhran again. He'd taken a finger... her life could likely be next. No doubt he was furious over his imprisonment.
Given the situations, Diana and Relic were accepted into their numbers. Giers had a funny feeling about Diana, though, the way she dressed, spoke, even her mannerisms. Little memories of Isabella began to surface. Likewise all in the group got an off vibe from Relic and the constant, low hum he generated. His lack of pain during the DeWitt fight and the heavyness of each step and movement marked him plainly as inhuman, but just what none of them could say.
Thamior's Arcana
After discussion and explanation of the Hearts, in so much detail as the group knew, Thamior studied the magical auras of their two new additions. Schooling in his organization was quite thorough, and included magic, something that came naturally because of his feladrin heritage. Quietly studying the belt and jacket glow a bit, he learned the purple Heart was attuned to aberrant magic. If he had to pick a plane, he'd guess the Void, called by some the Far Realm, the least-known of all the regions of the universe, tied to cosmic horrors and alien civilizations well-beyond mortal reckoning. The orange glow was attuned to elemental magic, a strong and roiling force likely born of the Elemental Chaos, the plane of genies, archons and elementals. He decided to keep the information to himself for now.
Return to Blackdelve
The carnage of the streets, the scrambling militia men, and the night's watch began encroaching on the party in their shallow woods. The group tore open the trapdoor and passed once more beneath Blackdelve. Flooded, fungi-and-mold-ridden as ever, the dilapidated upper corridors were thankfully vacant, even the guard room in which Kaylan met her first fey crocodile.
The group took a much needed rest on the islands of heaved stone flooring amidst the brackish waters, the promise of diving, naiads and an angry dragon in their immediate future...
Matters of the Hearts
While Portia snuggled with Hoppers in her arms, the gem frog quietly slipped into his lime boggart form. Spooning a bit and making small talk, during which Portia asked him all sorts of top-of-the-head questions, Hoppers revealed his real purpose in changing was to warn Portia. Even though his wicked sister Blackheart was gone, two of his meanest brothers had found them: Strangeheart and Quakeheart. She would have to keep a careful eye and prevent them from learning how to change into people forms like he and his sister could. When Portia asked how she might stop such a thing, Hoppers realized in all likelihood she couldn't and snuggled a little closer. His parting wish was for her to be safe and cautious, then he turned back into a frog, leaving her flurry of questions unanswered except for one. Portia found a fresh, red apple under her bedroll, proof he could conjure fruit.
Similarly Diana had a moment with her purple Heart. After prayers, she curled up in her bedroll on a dry bit of floor. However the chamber was a filthy place, ridden with water bugs, worms, slugs and spiders. While the rest of the group itched and squirmed, Diana felt a sudden pulse from her belt. The encroaching bugs turned tails and scurried away, some even into the water and to their deaths.
And all the while a pulsing, orange light was covered carefully beneath Relic's jacket.
Experience: 433 xp each (10891 total)
Magic: technically speaking Strangeheart (Diana) and Quakeheart (Relic)
Money: None
Loot: rusty katana (Portia), 4 bottles of spirits and wine (Portia), a red dragon scale (Portia)
PCs:
Diana, petite, pale beauty packing some heavy arcane firepower; sister to the shadows; keeper of a purple Heart on her belt
Relic, heavy, broad brawler in man's clothing; with a refined intellect and sure moral foundation; keeper of an orange Heart beneath his jacket
NPCs:
Bertrum Nobles (husbands, wives, grandfather, children and newborn), nobles trapped and stranded on the burning third floor of Bertrum Manor; saved by the group and allowed to escape before the manor's destruction; fled across the burning estates for freedom; whereabouts unknown
Gloriandeline Slaves (5, unnamed), terrified elves freed from the crazed possessiveness of Kasimir Bertrum; fled across the burning estates; whereabouts unknown
Lord Kasimir Bertrum, see NPC List entry (dead)
Jeda, demonic tiefling warlord; possessor of the Blackheart; former group member; met Reedthagn, toppled Twisttongue, and survived the Dark One and the Hand attack with the group; struggled with her conflicting natures; grew increasingly more violent and angry; hated Giers; hated DeWitt; really hated Crematia; might have loved Ispar; (MIA during the destruction of Bertrum Manor)
Fire Eater, a new freak in DeWitt's ever-growing menagerie of circus folk; wielded a fiery greatsword he was miraculously able to keep sheathed in his throat; dressed in red velvet in the likeness of a devil jester (MIA during the destruction of Bertrum Manor)
Imperial Dragoons, see NPC List entry
Note: We need to distribute some lingering loot from Session 29 still, including a magic shield and ownership of a ship docked in Edmark (which really should be a 'group treasure' so long as someone decides to hold onto it on the group's behalf).
Cruel Ultimatum
Fourteen Days and Counting...
(31 days total, 14 days until the New Moon)
The Rescuers
The two of them chased by different hunting parties, Diana and Relic met a week ago down the western roads into the Black Forest. Certainly not wanting to enter the heart of the Kingdom, their pursuers' relentless harrowing forced the issue. United by a common plight, the two fast became traveling companions, eventually finding themselves almost drawn to Provia. Making camp outside its bustle, they risked entering one night for fresh supplies and possibly a map, intending to make for safer lands. And boy did they pick the wrong night, as the Hand attacked and Crowperch was burned.
The pair were goodhearted enough to want to help, even as the screams of dying nobles (men, women and children) wafted over the rest of the city like so much ash and cinder. They braved the firestorm and found a grizzly mess on the ground floor of the manor. They managed to usher four children hidden in a broom closet to safety, then returned to brave the second floor of the now-burning manor.
Saving the Innocent
Diana and Relic burst into the library where Giers, Hulda, Portia, Kaylan and Thamior had just finished their fight with Gosha. Jeda had ran upstairs to the third floor, Kasimir's Suite, without heed. Portia was busy working on the locked door Erig had hid behind.
Introductions were very brief, as the sound of fire, the billowing of smoke, and the cries for help on the third floor urged Diana and Kaylan up to help. The rest of the group, considering leaving before the burning manor came down on them, resigned to follow. On the way up, the cieling of the stairwell nearly collapsed. Hulda leapt up and supported the crumbling structure with sheer muscle, urging the others to hurry with a grim look, but unwilling to pass off the burden to Relic when he offered.
Making it to the third floor, the group found it choked with smoke and in essence a large hall with doors to either side, all closed, some locked, nearly every one hot to the touch, and four of them with screaming behind them.
The first was a door with poor, burning children behind it. Kaylan and Thamior managed to get the door down, and the two whisked them to safety downstairs. Giers attended the second, where two sisters were trapped behind a fiery canopy bed. He carried each of them to the second floor, checked on Hulda, and practically flew back up. Diana attended the third, where it sound like a family was trapped behind, but the door was blocked by fallen debris. She tried to force it, then enlisted the paladin, but neither could budge it. Urging Giers to the fourth room at the end of the hall, Diana called on a frosty blast to explode the barrier, where upon she directed a grandfather, his son, a wife and a newborn down to the second.
Meanwhile, Relic attempted to kick down Portia's troublesome barrier, but heartland oak was strong. Portia pouted as the lock was now dented, and on top of it she was getting a growing collection of children dumped on her. Trying to keep them calm while she finally got the lock open, some were eventually whisked downstairs with Diana's fleeing family. The boggart appealed to Erig to help save his kin, which eventually got the young Norsman out of hiding and carrying two little boys down the stairs.
Portia quickly went about trying to find a safe alternative to having to cross the fiery fields and dragon skys in order to eventually leave this place.
The Master Bedroom
Giers and Kaylan were the first to enter the room at the end of the hall, followed shortly after by Thamior, then Diana and Relic. It was an expansive master bedroom with a great set of windows revealing the conflagration over the entire hill, where men ran screaming for their lives as Imperial Dragoons picked them off with fire, jaws and lances. And hanging like a red, winged moon was Yathnoc, reveling in the destruction.
Lord Kasimir Bertrum watched the destruction of all his holdings from his bed, strangling the sheets, a withered old bigit gone mad. In the corner were five terrified Gloriandeline slaves. But the most notable persons in the room would had to have been the circus master DeWitt himself, leaning against the window smiling at the new arrivals, his pallid companion Crematia beside him, along with a host of familiar circusfolk and a particularly strange freak dressed as a red-velvet devil jester with a fiery sword sheathed down his throat.
Jeda, Ispar and Blackguard Mnessi were poised to attack them.
They're MINE
Kaylan and Thamior were drawn to the plight of their elven kin, commanding the slaves to come with them to safety and freedom. Poor souls, their thousand years of servitude had made them cowards, especially scared of the crazy old master in the bed. Kasimir flung pillow and blanket at Kaylan, vowing the elves were his. Just like the rest of his ancestral holdings, they would perish by fire. His ranting scared the elves immobile.
Kaylan and Thamior defied him, eventually inspiring one of the elves to run into Kaylan's arms and begin sobbing. Thamior rushed to end this despicable situation, cutting off both of Lord Bertrum's arms before Kaylan incinerated him by Kalinda's phoenix fire.
The five slaves then fled downstairs and out of the manor, risking their lives across the fiery estate for freedom.
DeWitt Now
DeWitt, handsome and charming as ever, welcomed the group, especially pleased to see the face of his missing captive Giers. The circus master admitted that he had been the one behind the kidnappings, though what he wanted now were the Hearts. He was quite interested where the little green one was just then, and more so her green gem.
Giers charged, but the circus master was much more than he seemed, catching the paladin by the throat and spinning him around hard against the window pane. Offended by the brazen attack, DeWitt began strangling Giers.
Relic came from behind, arm raised to punch DeWitt from behind, but the circus master turned Giers into the punch, sending the ethrey crashing through the window and onto the burning lawn. He then backhanded Relic across the room and through a wall, proving himself supernaturally strong.
Kaylan rushed to the window to make sure her love was okay, even as Jeda pounced on Crematia, and Ispar and Blackguard Mnessi fought the fire eater and his host.
Ashes to Ashes
Before DeWitt could snatch Kaylan, Giers could climb back up, Thamior intervene or Relic fully recover, an explosive blast of dragon fire blew off a section of the roof. The raining debris, coupled with the already fire-weakened floor, caused the entire manor to pitch on its side. Everyone went sliding across the room, even as the floor broke apart into fiery pits. Jeda and Crematia fell down one, followed by a burp of flame, then joined by a furious DeWitt, the scrambling Ispar, the fire eater and the bodies of the fallen circusfolk and blackguard. The place was coming apart around them, the flame growing ever higher.
Cellar
Portia, meanwhile, continued her search for an alternate escape route, banking on Kasimir's paranoia having dug a tunnel or something. Unfortunately not, she found, having scoured the basement. She lifted some spirits and collected a rusty, mounted katana she hoped was the right one, and moved for the front door as the cieling fell around her.
She found Giers outside, clearing a way back in for the others. She joined the efforts, even as smoke and licks of flame shot at them. Once a path was made, the two dove back inside to help the others. The manor was groaning, supports and whole walls snapping apart, fire roaring hungrily.
Escape from Bertrum Manor
Those on the third floor hopped fallen beams, braved walls of fire, cleared chasms of broken flooring and the clouds of thick, black smoke to make it to the stairwell. Hulda, sweating and tired, spent her last ounces of strength to keep the cieling from caving. The group passed underneath her, Relic again offering to take the burden, Hulda again denying him. Everyone moved down the second floor, even as what remained of the third crumbled in a gust of cinder and ash. Hulda leaped away at the last possible moment, running for the next stairwell on the heels of the group.
But the way was blocked when the cieling on the second collapsed in front of the exit. Through alternate routes and a lot of muscle and dexterity, the group forced their way down to the ground floor, reunited with Portia and Giers, and burst from the crumbling, blazing manor.
Death-Defying
They weren't out of the estates yet, now faced with a long sprint over burning yards and gardens, blackened groves, crumbled low walls and melted iron fencing, to a breach in the outer wall. All the while swarms men bolted, half of them on fire, screaming for their lives. Imperial Dragoons circled and swooped, spewing fire at random and occasionally swooping in for a more visceral kill.
The initial fleeing was chaos, the group all moving in their own ways, tripping and scrambling and getting caught in ditches, fire and debris. However Portia arose as the one to follow, her acrobatic skills, coupled with her great knowledge of stealth and perception, marking a path through the pandemonium. The group ran along side and behind her, pointing out pitfalls and directing the train this way or that as benefited their greater stealth and speed. Timing circling dragons and fiery breaths, hopping hidden holes and finding perfect shadows, the group exploded across the yard.
A dragoon took notice of Portia's expert moving and swooped down to swallow the tender morsel. However the little boggart's agility was so great she avoided the attack, grounding the dragon and throwing it into a violent roll as it misjudged its mark. In that split second, Portia plucked a single red dragon scale in triumph.
It looked as if they were clear, until Thamior's selfless act of acting wounded so as to draw aggression off the others worked all too well. The wounded red, its rider dead, crawled for Thamior, even as Giers attended what real wounds Thamior had with some applied pressure and a forceful dragging for the opening. As its shadow cast over the the two, there was a sudden, explosion of fire, the red's last ditch effort to kill, which only managed to singe the ethrey and feladrin's tuckuses.
A Horrible Fate
Yathnoc landed, crashing into the ruins of the manor in all his seismic glory. Shimmering with heat like the open caldera of a volcano, the grass and trees withered and the nearest metal melted. Nearly as large as half the estate, he threw out his wings and thrashed his tail, taking out everything on the ground within a few hundred feet of the manor.
As the group passed out of the outer wall, some might have noticed he'd two very small purple dragons squirming in his grasp. Giers rued he wouldn't be able to kill those two himself, then fled after the others into the night streets where militia and night watch tried to keep control of the utter panic that had taken the entire city.
Making Acquaintances
In the small woods between manor houses, nearly in the shadow of Blackdelve, and temporarily away from the chaos, the group took a moment to catch their breaths. Diana and Relic were able to introduce themselves properly.
Kaylan seemed eager to send them on their way, siting the danger of what lied ahead, but Diana was entirely unwilling to brave the streets and the dragons with just her and Relic. Strength in numbers seemed a wise move, which Giers echoed. The cleric's anxiety only grew when she identified the fist-sized purple gem on Diana's belt and the marked orange glow beneath Relic's jacket. Hearts.
Momentarily overwhelmed, she sat down and revealed how she'd inherited her mothers ability to attract Hearts like a magnet. Ghisidhran had told her as much, and that her Uncle, Dazeen the Uniter, who was buried at the bottom of Blackdelve in ageless slumber, was the one able to unite all the Hearts and bestow the collector with the Power of Creation. Portia suggested they simply kill Dazeen and save the world, provoking a moral feedback from more than one in the group. Just where did greater good end and evil begin?
Relic and Diana were a little lost, prompting Giers to muster is oratory skills for a telling of the scions' adventures thus far. Diana was a bit confused by the Hearts parts, but Relic was enthralled, finding himself thankful he'd met up with such a group. Though the group explained the Hearts were gems corresponding to the known planes that, when united by Dazeen could greant the collector the power of the old creator goddesses, the finer mechanics were still drawing blanks for the dark girl. Truthfully the finer mechanics weren't entirely well-known to any in the group, suffice to say uniting was bad.
Concerns also shifted to Blight and Reedthagn's ultimatum, a deadline fast approaching and which spurred the group into this flooded dungeon in the first place. Kaylan really, really didn't want to see Ghisidhran again. He'd taken a finger... her life could likely be next. No doubt he was furious over his imprisonment.
Given the situations, Diana and Relic were accepted into their numbers. Giers had a funny feeling about Diana, though, the way she dressed, spoke, even her mannerisms. Little memories of Isabella began to surface. Likewise all in the group got an off vibe from Relic and the constant, low hum he generated. His lack of pain during the DeWitt fight and the heavyness of each step and movement marked him plainly as inhuman, but just what none of them could say.
Thamior's Arcana
After discussion and explanation of the Hearts, in so much detail as the group knew, Thamior studied the magical auras of their two new additions. Schooling in his organization was quite thorough, and included magic, something that came naturally because of his feladrin heritage. Quietly studying the belt and jacket glow a bit, he learned the purple Heart was attuned to aberrant magic. If he had to pick a plane, he'd guess the Void, called by some the Far Realm, the least-known of all the regions of the universe, tied to cosmic horrors and alien civilizations well-beyond mortal reckoning. The orange glow was attuned to elemental magic, a strong and roiling force likely born of the Elemental Chaos, the plane of genies, archons and elementals. He decided to keep the information to himself for now.
Return to Blackdelve
The carnage of the streets, the scrambling militia men, and the night's watch began encroaching on the party in their shallow woods. The group tore open the trapdoor and passed once more beneath Blackdelve. Flooded, fungi-and-mold-ridden as ever, the dilapidated upper corridors were thankfully vacant, even the guard room in which Kaylan met her first fey crocodile.
The group took a much needed rest on the islands of heaved stone flooring amidst the brackish waters, the promise of diving, naiads and an angry dragon in their immediate future...
Matters of the Hearts
While Portia snuggled with Hoppers in her arms, the gem frog quietly slipped into his lime boggart form. Spooning a bit and making small talk, during which Portia asked him all sorts of top-of-the-head questions, Hoppers revealed his real purpose in changing was to warn Portia. Even though his wicked sister Blackheart was gone, two of his meanest brothers had found them: Strangeheart and Quakeheart. She would have to keep a careful eye and prevent them from learning how to change into people forms like he and his sister could. When Portia asked how she might stop such a thing, Hoppers realized in all likelihood she couldn't and snuggled a little closer. His parting wish was for her to be safe and cautious, then he turned back into a frog, leaving her flurry of questions unanswered except for one. Portia found a fresh, red apple under her bedroll, proof he could conjure fruit.
Similarly Diana had a moment with her purple Heart. After prayers, she curled up in her bedroll on a dry bit of floor. However the chamber was a filthy place, ridden with water bugs, worms, slugs and spiders. While the rest of the group itched and squirmed, Diana felt a sudden pulse from her belt. The encroaching bugs turned tails and scurried away, some even into the water and to their deaths.
And all the while a pulsing, orange light was covered carefully beneath Relic's jacket.
Experience: 433 xp each (10891 total)
Magic: technically speaking Strangeheart (Diana) and Quakeheart (Relic)
Money: None
Loot: rusty katana (Portia), 4 bottles of spirits and wine (Portia), a red dragon scale (Portia)
PCs:
Diana, petite, pale beauty packing some heavy arcane firepower; sister to the shadows; keeper of a purple Heart on her belt
Relic, heavy, broad brawler in man's clothing; with a refined intellect and sure moral foundation; keeper of an orange Heart beneath his jacket
NPCs:
Bertrum Nobles (husbands, wives, grandfather, children and newborn), nobles trapped and stranded on the burning third floor of Bertrum Manor; saved by the group and allowed to escape before the manor's destruction; fled across the burning estates for freedom; whereabouts unknown
Gloriandeline Slaves (5, unnamed), terrified elves freed from the crazed possessiveness of Kasimir Bertrum; fled across the burning estates; whereabouts unknown
Lord Kasimir Bertrum, see NPC List entry (dead)
Jeda, demonic tiefling warlord; possessor of the Blackheart; former group member; met Reedthagn, toppled Twisttongue, and survived the Dark One and the Hand attack with the group; struggled with her conflicting natures; grew increasingly more violent and angry; hated Giers; hated DeWitt; really hated Crematia; might have loved Ispar; (MIA during the destruction of Bertrum Manor)
Fire Eater, a new freak in DeWitt's ever-growing menagerie of circus folk; wielded a fiery greatsword he was miraculously able to keep sheathed in his throat; dressed in red velvet in the likeness of a devil jester (MIA during the destruction of Bertrum Manor)
Imperial Dragoons, see NPC List entry
Note: We need to distribute some lingering loot from Session 29 still, including a magic shield and ownership of a ship docked in Edmark (which really should be a 'group treasure' so long as someone decides to hold onto it on the group's behalf).
Cruel Ultimatum
Fourteen Days and Counting...
- Reedthagn's will must still be done and Ghisidhran's tongue placed before him in the Tesseract, lest Blight be dropped on someone's home
- The group must pass under Blackdelve, enter the resting place of Dazeen the Uniter, slay Ghisidhran and then manage a way back to the Wild and to the ancient green's cube within a cube within a cube
Monday, July 6, 2009
Fireside Chat: Wish Lists
Treasure is an important part of the game. From my experience as a player, when we take down a particularly hard encounter, beyond the experience itself and the fulfillment of the plot point, its the loot that really makes my eyes light up. That's why when I dish out the goods to you guys, I want them to be things you all like and want.
So if you'd all be so kind, take some time to peruse the various WotC sources of magic items and mundane loot. Make a list. If these magic items, alchemical potions, vehicles or mounts have a level appropriateness, write that down too. And if you think some of these items would have particular poignancy with your character, tell me why. It couldn't hurt your chances of finding it in the next stack.
I also extend this wish list to flavor objects, things not necessarily with a level or a daily power, but which might make for fun rp or an interesting accessory.
I anxiously await your creative lists.
So if you'd all be so kind, take some time to peruse the various WotC sources of magic items and mundane loot. Make a list. If these magic items, alchemical potions, vehicles or mounts have a level appropriateness, write that down too. And if you think some of these items would have particular poignancy with your character, tell me why. It couldn't hurt your chances of finding it in the next stack.
I also extend this wish list to flavor objects, things not necessarily with a level or a daily power, but which might make for fun rp or an interesting accessory.
I anxiously await your creative lists.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Session 29: Everything Burns
Night, Kelehess 28th
(30 days total, 15 days until the New Moon)
Second Floor Carnage
The Hand of Doom fanned out, moving through the second floor with intent to kill every and any Bertrum they could find. There was an impressive opposition waiting, a combination of Provian regulars and Kasimir's elite Old Crows. A few of the nobles were also out to fight, knights and fencers protecting their cowering families and ancestral holdings. The battle was joined, a clashing of steel and bodies that echoed the greater thunder of the battle in the barracks yard.
Despite the drow's intentions of quietly replacing the government under guise of illusions, this sneak attack had become anything but. The tumult of full-out battle, fought on the central hill of Provia, had undoubtedly alerted the entire city. If the Hand had had some sneakier plan, it failed. As Thamior suggested, perhaps the Provians knew the Hand was coming, and yet the hundreds of guards in the barracks were shocked and ambushed during dinner, barely able to mount a defense. Still Kasimir's manor had ample guard, more than even his usual paranoia could justify. Strange...
Defenders of the Manor
To the relief of the Hand forces, at least their intelligence on the Provian Inquisition had been correct. The majority of their inquisitors were out of the city investigating the tremendous expenditure of magic in the ruins of the Weeping Stone. Yet there were some who stayed, including two before the group. Inquisitor Gosha was a barrel-shaped, bulging woman with the signature red cloak of the Inquisition, holding a greataxe with familiarity. She had nothing but contempt for the array of "monsters" before her.
Beside her was the much younger Inquisitor Erig, barely into his own red cloak. The group had saved him twice before, from the horrors of Green Chapel and the Screaming Caves. They'd even helped save his beloved, absent sister. Hulda made eyes on him, and Giers offered to spare both him and his sister, but all Erig could do was scowl with a hatred ingrained since childhood.
Commanding three veteran Old Crows with tridents were two well-equipped knights, truly the highest ranking in the household. Sons of Kasimir and the imminent heirs, they were passed the point of young, passed even the point of middle age, in that strange gray area before men lost all their strength. Skill and discipline were theirs, experience, and in one case a magic sword and in the other a magic shield. Sir Nickedemus and Sir Rothchild Bertrum were storms of anger, horror and sorrow after witnessing the erasure of their household. Good men or evil, who could say, only that they would fight to the death to protect what remained of the family holed up on the third floor.
No Push Overs
The Old Crows wasted no time impaling Hulda and Thamior to the floor, their tridents piercing legs and grounding the two. The feladrin managed to escape via a teleporting step, but the half-giant was stuck for some time, the both of them bleeding out throughout much the battle. No one was unscathed in the confrontation, as Portia felt the first attack by Gosha, followed by the ire of one of the Old Crows and Erig too. Jeda and Kaylan held the center, administering healing and commands, until the bloodlust grew too much and the tiefling pounced and sated her need for killing.
Giers guarded one flank, facing off against Sir Rothchilde, while Hulda suffered the blows of Sir Nickedemus and his magic sword Shivili. Thamior darted around the whole of it, doing what he could to keep the group alive through steel, force and lightning.
Clueless
Giers provoked Sir Rothchilde into a rage after landing enough blows. Rothchilde cursed how cowardly and evil a sneak attack on women and children was, which Giers countered was just as evil as a plotted attack against the women and children of Etheria. Sir Rothchilde had no idea what he was talking about and so the avenger kept stabbing until the knight stopped demanding a reason for such moral lack as this attack. Was there a real justification? Only Kalinda knew...
Witch Goddess
Kaylan called on her often, healing her allies back from the brinks of destruction on more than one occasion. This only angered the Nors, especially one Old Crow would cursed the New God as a witch, a fiery and wicked entity. Big mistake, as three of the group were devote followers, namely Kaylan, Giers and Thamior. This insult was the second wind the group needed to finish their enemies off...
They made the Old Crow, and those nearest him, pay dearly. Giers summoned a temple of light focused on the axe-swinging inquisitor, who proved a veritable fortress in her own right, burning all enemies. Kaylan coupled this by consecrating the very ground, in the process incinerating Old Crows and eventually the inquisitor herself. Thamior continued a tireless series of stabs and slices brought down foe after foe. Jeda tormented a few of the men in her cruel harvest, sweeping her magic khopesh in wide arms and stabbing with her spade tail until none still stood before her.
Live to See Another Day
Portia was working quite a dance between an Old Crow and Erig, but she managed to avoid much of their attacks, even turning them on each other, and on Gosha too. Yet Erig was quick to figure this battle going ill for his side and, slowly, moved back and away. Once his mistress fell, Erig flat out bolted. The boggart gave chase, but Erig fled into a room and locked the door behind him. Portia took the challenge and began finagelling the lock, even as the rest of the group destroyed their enemies and licked their wounds.
Across the second floor of the manor, silence. Hand and Provian had managed to kill each other to the last man, except for Ispar and Blackguard Mnessi, who continued up to the third floor, Kasimir's suite.
Shivili
Thamior, drawn to the heron blade during the battle, moved over to the fallen Sir Nickedemus and retrieved his exquisite sword. The handle was encased in pearl, with a pearl-inlay-in-platinum pommel. The hilt was the likeness of swan feathers. Cold to the touch, the blade itself held a slight frost. Once lifted, faintly glowing white feather patterns traced up the steel. It was light, perfectly balanced, and an all around masterfully-crafted longsword. Even the sheath, black goose flesh cured and treated and hemmed with soft gray down, was as a work of art.
Closer inspection found the well-hidden brand of Shivili's makers: Citadeleans. The western dwarves of Citadel were annexed by the Kingdom after a coup that ended the reign of the rightful dwarven queen and put her sister Moraig on the seat of power, a sister grateful for the imperial backing and all-too-willing to show her gratitude with the production of superior arms and armor. Dwarves quickly became the only non-humans tolerated in all the empire, welcomed even, and it was clear why. Their craftsmanship was unmatched on all the continent, providing the high-ranking military and choice nobility with superior magical steel. While the Kingdom normally shunned arcane magic, in the Othyrian arms race some degree of magic was a necessity. Coming from dwarves, even the Heirarch could tolerate the production and sale. After all, it was dwarf-made, well-removed from the craft of the much-hated Gloriandelines.
They Knew...
The sounds outside shifted suddenly, and with it came such intense heat it could be felt through the manor walls and windows. Orange light exploded without, drawing the group to the window. Hand and Provian scrambled across the yard wildly, ceasing their fighting in attempts to save their sorry lives from a veritable firestorm. Imperial Dragoons now circled above, their mounts blowing streams of fire which trapped and cooked invaders and the castle defenders alike.
Worse, a crimson Elder dragon some five hundred feet long, hanging in the sky more than flying any wind, spun about Crowperch Estates laughing thunderously as he spewed rivers of molten flame. Riddled with spines, horns and serrated scales shaded blood to burnt umber, the whole of him radiated shimmering heat that occasionally ignited in spontaneous combustion. Yathnoc the Red, one of the true ancients and "Guardian of the Nors Faith", was eradicating the entire hill with no regard for people or property. Night was as day in the resulting blaze, one which had already consumed the barracks and now threatened to spread to the manor...
But who could have alerted the dragoons and their master? How? And why wasn't Yathnoc discriminating between friend and foe in his conflagration?
Experience: 458 each (10458 total)
Magic: Shivili the White Heron (Thamior), Angelsteel Shield [off Sir Rothchilde]
Money: 1,350 gp (225gp each, off the dead)
Loot: 3 tridents, 4 chainmail suits, 2 leather suits, 1 great axe, 1 longsword, 3 Bertrum Manor keys, 3 Crowperch Estate keys, 2 signet rings of House Bertrum, a deed to a ship docked at Pier 23 in Edmark named 'The Nonpareil" [off Sir Nickedemus], a small box of snuff, 2 thin Pricilli cigars
NPCs:
Sir Rothchilde Bertrum, aged knight protector of the House of Bertrum and the second eldest son of Lord Kasimir Bertrum (dead)
Sir Nickedemus Bertrum, aged knight protector of the House of Bertrum and eldest son of Lord Kasimir Bertrum; former wielder of Shivili (dead)
Imperial Dragoons (seen from afar), elite Nors knights riding experienced red dragons; the premiere fighting force on the continent
Yathnoc (seen from afar), see NPC List entry
Shivili, the White Heron
This longsword is cold to the touch. In the hands of a strong wielder, white feather patterns glow faintly across the blade surface.
This blade is markedly Citadelean (western dwarves), shown by the crafter's symbol expertly hidden near the pearl pommel.
Level: 8
Price: 3,400 gp
Weapon: Longsword
Enhancement: +2 attack rolls and damage rolls
Critical: +2d6 cold damage
Power (At-Will • Cold): Free Action. All damage dealt by this weapon is cold damage. Another free action returns the damage to normal.
Power (Daily • Cold): Free Action. Use this power when you hit with the weapon. The target takes an extra 1d8 cold damage and is slowed until the end of your next turn.
Angelsteel Shield
This fine, steel shield flickers with light that flows out at times to help defend your allies.
This shield is markedly Citadelean (western dwarves), shown by the crafter's symbol expertly hidden near the shield's center.
Level: 9
Price: 4200 gp
Item Slot: Arms
Prerequisite: Any
Power (Daily): Immediate Reaction. Use this power when an ally adjacent to you is hit by an attack. That ally gains a +1 power bonus to the defense that the attack targeted until the end of the encounter.
(30 days total, 15 days until the New Moon)
Second Floor Carnage
The Hand of Doom fanned out, moving through the second floor with intent to kill every and any Bertrum they could find. There was an impressive opposition waiting, a combination of Provian regulars and Kasimir's elite Old Crows. A few of the nobles were also out to fight, knights and fencers protecting their cowering families and ancestral holdings. The battle was joined, a clashing of steel and bodies that echoed the greater thunder of the battle in the barracks yard.
Despite the drow's intentions of quietly replacing the government under guise of illusions, this sneak attack had become anything but. The tumult of full-out battle, fought on the central hill of Provia, had undoubtedly alerted the entire city. If the Hand had had some sneakier plan, it failed. As Thamior suggested, perhaps the Provians knew the Hand was coming, and yet the hundreds of guards in the barracks were shocked and ambushed during dinner, barely able to mount a defense. Still Kasimir's manor had ample guard, more than even his usual paranoia could justify. Strange...
Defenders of the Manor
To the relief of the Hand forces, at least their intelligence on the Provian Inquisition had been correct. The majority of their inquisitors were out of the city investigating the tremendous expenditure of magic in the ruins of the Weeping Stone. Yet there were some who stayed, including two before the group. Inquisitor Gosha was a barrel-shaped, bulging woman with the signature red cloak of the Inquisition, holding a greataxe with familiarity. She had nothing but contempt for the array of "monsters" before her.
Beside her was the much younger Inquisitor Erig, barely into his own red cloak. The group had saved him twice before, from the horrors of Green Chapel and the Screaming Caves. They'd even helped save his beloved, absent sister. Hulda made eyes on him, and Giers offered to spare both him and his sister, but all Erig could do was scowl with a hatred ingrained since childhood.
Commanding three veteran Old Crows with tridents were two well-equipped knights, truly the highest ranking in the household. Sons of Kasimir and the imminent heirs, they were passed the point of young, passed even the point of middle age, in that strange gray area before men lost all their strength. Skill and discipline were theirs, experience, and in one case a magic sword and in the other a magic shield. Sir Nickedemus and Sir Rothchild Bertrum were storms of anger, horror and sorrow after witnessing the erasure of their household. Good men or evil, who could say, only that they would fight to the death to protect what remained of the family holed up on the third floor.
No Push Overs
The Old Crows wasted no time impaling Hulda and Thamior to the floor, their tridents piercing legs and grounding the two. The feladrin managed to escape via a teleporting step, but the half-giant was stuck for some time, the both of them bleeding out throughout much the battle. No one was unscathed in the confrontation, as Portia felt the first attack by Gosha, followed by the ire of one of the Old Crows and Erig too. Jeda and Kaylan held the center, administering healing and commands, until the bloodlust grew too much and the tiefling pounced and sated her need for killing.
Giers guarded one flank, facing off against Sir Rothchilde, while Hulda suffered the blows of Sir Nickedemus and his magic sword Shivili. Thamior darted around the whole of it, doing what he could to keep the group alive through steel, force and lightning.
Clueless
Giers provoked Sir Rothchilde into a rage after landing enough blows. Rothchilde cursed how cowardly and evil a sneak attack on women and children was, which Giers countered was just as evil as a plotted attack against the women and children of Etheria. Sir Rothchilde had no idea what he was talking about and so the avenger kept stabbing until the knight stopped demanding a reason for such moral lack as this attack. Was there a real justification? Only Kalinda knew...
Witch Goddess
Kaylan called on her often, healing her allies back from the brinks of destruction on more than one occasion. This only angered the Nors, especially one Old Crow would cursed the New God as a witch, a fiery and wicked entity. Big mistake, as three of the group were devote followers, namely Kaylan, Giers and Thamior. This insult was the second wind the group needed to finish their enemies off...
They made the Old Crow, and those nearest him, pay dearly. Giers summoned a temple of light focused on the axe-swinging inquisitor, who proved a veritable fortress in her own right, burning all enemies. Kaylan coupled this by consecrating the very ground, in the process incinerating Old Crows and eventually the inquisitor herself. Thamior continued a tireless series of stabs and slices brought down foe after foe. Jeda tormented a few of the men in her cruel harvest, sweeping her magic khopesh in wide arms and stabbing with her spade tail until none still stood before her.
Live to See Another Day
Portia was working quite a dance between an Old Crow and Erig, but she managed to avoid much of their attacks, even turning them on each other, and on Gosha too. Yet Erig was quick to figure this battle going ill for his side and, slowly, moved back and away. Once his mistress fell, Erig flat out bolted. The boggart gave chase, but Erig fled into a room and locked the door behind him. Portia took the challenge and began finagelling the lock, even as the rest of the group destroyed their enemies and licked their wounds.
Across the second floor of the manor, silence. Hand and Provian had managed to kill each other to the last man, except for Ispar and Blackguard Mnessi, who continued up to the third floor, Kasimir's suite.
Shivili
Thamior, drawn to the heron blade during the battle, moved over to the fallen Sir Nickedemus and retrieved his exquisite sword. The handle was encased in pearl, with a pearl-inlay-in-platinum pommel. The hilt was the likeness of swan feathers. Cold to the touch, the blade itself held a slight frost. Once lifted, faintly glowing white feather patterns traced up the steel. It was light, perfectly balanced, and an all around masterfully-crafted longsword. Even the sheath, black goose flesh cured and treated and hemmed with soft gray down, was as a work of art.
Closer inspection found the well-hidden brand of Shivili's makers: Citadeleans. The western dwarves of Citadel were annexed by the Kingdom after a coup that ended the reign of the rightful dwarven queen and put her sister Moraig on the seat of power, a sister grateful for the imperial backing and all-too-willing to show her gratitude with the production of superior arms and armor. Dwarves quickly became the only non-humans tolerated in all the empire, welcomed even, and it was clear why. Their craftsmanship was unmatched on all the continent, providing the high-ranking military and choice nobility with superior magical steel. While the Kingdom normally shunned arcane magic, in the Othyrian arms race some degree of magic was a necessity. Coming from dwarves, even the Heirarch could tolerate the production and sale. After all, it was dwarf-made, well-removed from the craft of the much-hated Gloriandelines.
They Knew...
The sounds outside shifted suddenly, and with it came such intense heat it could be felt through the manor walls and windows. Orange light exploded without, drawing the group to the window. Hand and Provian scrambled across the yard wildly, ceasing their fighting in attempts to save their sorry lives from a veritable firestorm. Imperial Dragoons now circled above, their mounts blowing streams of fire which trapped and cooked invaders and the castle defenders alike.
Worse, a crimson Elder dragon some five hundred feet long, hanging in the sky more than flying any wind, spun about Crowperch Estates laughing thunderously as he spewed rivers of molten flame. Riddled with spines, horns and serrated scales shaded blood to burnt umber, the whole of him radiated shimmering heat that occasionally ignited in spontaneous combustion. Yathnoc the Red, one of the true ancients and "Guardian of the Nors Faith", was eradicating the entire hill with no regard for people or property. Night was as day in the resulting blaze, one which had already consumed the barracks and now threatened to spread to the manor...
But who could have alerted the dragoons and their master? How? And why wasn't Yathnoc discriminating between friend and foe in his conflagration?
Experience: 458 each (10458 total)
Magic: Shivili the White Heron (Thamior), Angelsteel Shield [off Sir Rothchilde]
Money: 1,350 gp (225gp each, off the dead)
Loot: 3 tridents, 4 chainmail suits, 2 leather suits, 1 great axe, 1 longsword, 3 Bertrum Manor keys, 3 Crowperch Estate keys, 2 signet rings of House Bertrum, a deed to a ship docked at Pier 23 in Edmark named 'The Nonpareil" [off Sir Nickedemus], a small box of snuff, 2 thin Pricilli cigars
NPCs:
Sir Rothchilde Bertrum, aged knight protector of the House of Bertrum and the second eldest son of Lord Kasimir Bertrum (dead)
Sir Nickedemus Bertrum, aged knight protector of the House of Bertrum and eldest son of Lord Kasimir Bertrum; former wielder of Shivili (dead)
Imperial Dragoons (seen from afar), elite Nors knights riding experienced red dragons; the premiere fighting force on the continent
Yathnoc (seen from afar), see NPC List entry
Shivili, the White Heron
This longsword is cold to the touch. In the hands of a strong wielder, white feather patterns glow faintly across the blade surface.
This blade is markedly Citadelean (western dwarves), shown by the crafter's symbol expertly hidden near the pearl pommel.
Level: 8
Price: 3,400 gp
Weapon: Longsword
Enhancement: +2 attack rolls and damage rolls
Critical: +2d6 cold damage
Power (At-Will • Cold): Free Action. All damage dealt by this weapon is cold damage. Another free action returns the damage to normal.
Power (Daily • Cold): Free Action. Use this power when you hit with the weapon. The target takes an extra 1d8 cold damage and is slowed until the end of your next turn.
Angelsteel Shield
This fine, steel shield flickers with light that flows out at times to help defend your allies.
This shield is markedly Citadelean (western dwarves), shown by the crafter's symbol expertly hidden near the shield's center.
Level: 9
Price: 4200 gp
Item Slot: Arms
Prerequisite: Any
Power (Daily): Immediate Reaction. Use this power when an ally adjacent to you is hit by an attack. That ally gains a +1 power bonus to the defense that the attack targeted until the end of the encounter.
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