Conquering the Barbarian Altanis: Session 97
Adventurers
| Character | Class | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Hagar the Hewer | Dwarf level 4 | Imagine Conan as dwarf. |
| Ambros | Cleric level 4 | Follower of Aniu, Lord of Time. |
| Foxglove | Thief level 4 | A willowy human, long hair ties in a pony tail, looks a bit dangerous and dainty at the same time. |
| Darius | Cleric level 4 | Follower of Dacron, God of Craftsmen. |
| Rorik | Fighter level 3 | A fighter. |
| Vyrkainen | Elf level 1 | Has stunning long, flowing black hair which attracts many fair maidens who exploit his generosity and leave him destitute. |
Meadowlark 2nd, Waterday
“What shall we do next?”
Adventurers wondered. Hagar has now been resting for a little over a week. Although alive, he was slowly recovering after his last bout with death. In addition, yesterday's encounters did not help his recovery whatsoever.
First, they encountered Abek Namelin for the second time. The man brought new gifts: exotic breads, cream for Bob's mangled face and scalp, and rejuvenating concoctions for Hagar.
Youngest son of Namelin tried his best to convince the adventurers that his family has been ruthlessly slandered, and that Imrael is behind all that is ill in Hara.
“Who do you think ordered no less than four separate assassination contracts on your head, master dwarf?!”
“These are strong accusations! Do you have any proof?”
“And what proof did they present to you that we are evil!”
Back and forth they went, brining the young man to tears of frustration. He kept repeating that Klekless Racoba is the key to this mystery. Why else would Imrael's want him dead? He offered five thousand, yes!, five thousand platinum pieces to adventurers if they could capture Klekless alive and bring him back for questioning.
But adventurers were steadfast. They rejected Abek's gifts and his offer of friendship. Young man left in tears, but he left the gift behind.
Vyrkainen devoured breads the moment Abek left.
“Oh, you guys don't know what you are missing out on! Tasty!”
“What if the cream and potions are cursed?”
“Even worse, what if they work and then we are in debt to Namelin?”
Second, worse encounter, was with Mavis the Magnificent, High Priestess of Poseidon. Wishing to check on Abek's claim, they pestered acolytes at the Temple for audience with High Priestess.
Initially they were rebuffed, but Vyrkainen's shenanigans eventually granted them a meeting at the end of the day. Hagar wanted to know who the Temple is aligned with.
“Everybody pays their respects to the Poseidon.”
Few more similar questions received similar answers. Then Hagar tried to be more precise.
“High Priestess, who should we work with? Imrael? Or Namelin?”
“What do I care who you work with!” Mavis exploded in a fit of rage. Usually calm and composed, she jumped up like a force of nature, shaking the whole temple. “You should be worrying about your divine debt instead of wasting my time!” Water in the basins and pools swirled and roared, mimicking her temper. “Get out!”
Acolytes ushered them all out, despite Vyrkainen's protests.
“I must remain home and rest.” Hagar shared, more for himself than others.
“Listen. If we are siding with Imrael then let's focus on things that he asked for. There was this spider farm, right? He asked us to look for the lair of creatures that assaulted it. We could also visit Castle on the Wode on our way there and try to meet with Tagoler, whom we plans to back as new Castellan.”
“Sounds good.”
But that was yesterday, and now is today.
“Help? Of course I could use some help!”
Middle-aged man with short hair and trimmed beard roared, slamming a stack of parchments on broad wooden desk.
“There has been a dearth of capable men! Look at the map, come, look at it! You could take any of these routes and patrol them! What, not fancy enough for you?”
Tagoler was still sweaty and grimy, having returned from a patrol himself. His broad chest heaved with laughter, perhaps a nervous one, as he motioned over the area he has to keep safe with a handful of men residing at the Castle of the Wode.
To be fair, calling this simple keep with one tower a castle was an overstatement. But it served its purpose.
“Well if that is too mundane for you special folk, then I have some special problems you could help me with! Months ago, I lost a patrol on the hills north of here. Looked for them myself but no luck. Since I couldn't spare any men, we had to drop our search.
“Locals tell tall tales of vampires, demons, and what not. Truth to be told I think they were done in by a wild beast, potentially and owlbear or cave bear. If you can track the patrol—alive or dead—and kill whatever waylaid them, that'd be greatly appreciated. It'd also allow me to reinstate a new patrol over the hills.
“Another pesky problem is the Pirate Queen that's been raiding ships on their way out of the bay and into the open sea. Hear lair should supposedly be somewhere between Ketche and Ahyf. That's a lot of coast to search! I followed several leads, but all led nowhere!
“So, there it is. Anything worthy of your help?”
Adventurers conversed for a moment. Then they decided to head to the spider farm, and then to the Midnight Goddess Hills, where they would both search for the lair of black creatures, as well as the missing patrol.
Vyrkainen had an extra objective on his mind as well. He desired to meet the nude goddess that roams the hills when sister moons, Howla and Vannis, are both full.
Meadowlark 6th, Airday, Noon
“Up ahead!”
Rorik spotted a circle of white stone pillars atop the Midnight Goddess Hill summit. That by itself was nothing extraordinary. No, what was interesting were several toppled dolmens revealing a dark black cavity.
Exploring the environs revealed several trails of broken grass leading to—or was it from?—the pit. Strong smell of earth, moisture and rot emanated from the hole. Sun shone in just enough to illuminate rounded steps leading further down.
Illustration by kickmaniac.
Vyrkainen volunteered to go first, for he as an elf could see in the dark. The adventurers did not want to risk not being able to surprise someone while carrying torches. They tied two hundred feet of rope around the elf, and down the went.
The steps went down and down, turning and turning. It was impossible to guess the depth, even using the rope to measure distance for it got tangled around the central column. Either way, after some time, Vyrkainen arrived at narrow landing which opened up into a straight corridor.
Up ahead he could see something hazy; and he could smell a curious mixture of strange spices, smoke, and dank copper. Thus, with his reconnaissance completed, he went back up and relayed this new information.
The party summed up their courage and descended down, together. A torch was lit. Now with light one could see all the small steps, plethora of cobwebs and stone dust.
“Hmmm...”
They couldn't see far down the corridor. A blue, impenetrable haze filled it. Foxglove, the thief, went first. Seeing noting suspicious he edged to the mist. It was corporeal. Very real. Stabbing it left the instruments covered in small wet beads that evaporated in seconds.
Once in the mist, the thief could see some five feet ahead.
“Secure me!”
Party set Vyrkainen loose, and used fifty feet of rope to secure Foxglove. Two of them held the rope, attentive to any sign of distress, as the thief explored misty chamber.
Clang.
Stepping left resulted with the thief tumbling straight into a dark pit. Due to short distance, the party wasn't able to tense the rope in time, and Foxglove found himself a bit roughed up, but otherwise fine.
“Pull me up!”
Clang.
Stepping right led to another pit trap, but this time the thief jumped back in time.
“Hmmm, maybe we should leave?” contemplated an adventurer best left unnamed. Surely these brave folk wouldn't be defeated by some pathetic pit traps in the first room of a dungeon!
Surely not!
Foxglove kept tapping through the mist, exploring. Others followed behind him, retracing safe ground he had covered.
And then thief walked straight into dragon's gaping maw.
Luckily for him, the dragon was merely a stone replica!
Dragon's open mouth framed stone doors with a latch to the side. Blue mist tardily rolled out of its nostrils.
“Hey... I have two cloaks... let's use them to jam 'em!”
That indeed worked, and chamber begun to slowly clear.
Rorik spotted bloated, wooden doors just to his left. The little hairs on the back of his neck warned him of danger. He looked around, and then he looked up.
At the edge of light, high in the north-east corner, a child-size creature stuck to the wall. Its feet were flush against the wall, and so were its palms. Other two hands covered its monstrous face—a face only a mother could love.
Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.
Subscribe to get the latest post in your inbox. No spam.