Summary:
The party rested from the dire wolf encounter and departed early the next morning. They were unmolested for the rest of the journey. When they finally rode into the city of Arabel, a crowd of children and spectators took quick notice. Hushed whispers, enthusiastic cheers, and steely gazes followed the adventurers as they wound their way through the packed streets of Arabel towards the gleaming glass tower of Tymora's Temple.
Queequeg noticed the crowd especially attentive to the novelty of a dragonborn in their midst. The children especially pointed at the warlord, their mouths hanging slack as they gibbered about scales and girth, talons and snout. Queequeg smiled to himself, tilted his head back, and unleashed a torrent of turquoise lightning into the sky straight above. The children and more cowardly adults scampered away only to peek their heads back at the retreating convoy and cheer their delight. Gilic himself chuckled, reaching into coin purse and flinging a handful of copper and silver to the adoring crowd. The children lunged for the shiny bits, one adult in particular elbowing a little girl in the face to grab a stray gold.
As the party approached the resplendent Temple of Tymora, Taegahan wondered aloud if the tower refracted the sun's rays enough to burn flesh and start fires. Entering the Temple, the adventurers were greeted with an unusual sight: tables and apparatus spread throughout a large chamber, all devoted to gambling. As the goddess of luck, Tymora relished games of chance and fully embraced them within her halls of worship. Hostess Ann greeted the party immediately, taking their drink orders and inviting them to gamble for a time. The party played a variety of games, including dragonbones. More money was lost than won, though Orchid walked away significantly richer than she arrived.
Not long after, Hostess Ann ushered the party into a more subdued, quieter antechamber. She informed the party that Sister Mary Margaret was currently at a meeting, but that she asked the adventurers to dine while they waited. They ate from an eclectic menu, including venison stew and mixed vegetables. Finally, Sister Margaret entered the room, addressing the party warmly. She listened intently to their brief summary of events surrounding Shadowfell Keep, her brow furrowed upon hearing the existence and demise of Kalarel. Sister Margaret smiled brightly at the end of their tale, congratulating them on a job well done. She motioned to Ann who handed each member a heavy coin purse.
"As grateful as I am to all of you for investigating and defeating the evil at the Keep, I'm afraid Cormyr still has need of you," Sister Margaret intoned. She explained that on behalf of Lord Darius Ruckus, the Lord of Arabel, she humbly requested the Victors of Shadowfell Keep investigate reports of slavery not far from a trading post in the mountains just north of the city. The trading post was established by a syndicate of arcanist knows as the Mages of Seurun. Trading in gems, jewels, and rare ore that are mined from a nearby ruin, Thuderspire Labyrinth also markets a handful of rare artifacts and items of more modest magical power. Sister Margaret acknowledges the post fully engages in trade with the Underdark. As a conduit between the realm beneath and the surface, it boasts booming traffic and strong profits. As a result, the Mages of Seurn enjoy immense power within the small borders of Thunderspire Labyrinth and along its trade routes.
Sister Margaret entreated the party to journey to the outpost and advertise themselves as mercenary adventurers. Undercover, she asked the party to investigate the reports of slavery and crush any operation running such a corrupt business. Additionally, she asks to the party to take in their surrounding, documenting all that they witness, map areas and regions they explore, including the ruins that feed the post's gem, jewel, and artifact market.
Sister Margaret ended her request: "Lastly, Lord Ruckus has received troubling reports of a singularity event of significant power in or around Thunderspire Labyrinth. The nature of the power is unknown, but it hints at a world-ending event. Of all the tasks set before you, this is the most important. Find the source of this continuum rupture. Investigate the ramifications of its existence. If it proves a danger to Arabel, Cormyr, by the goddess Tymora all of Faerun itself, do everything in your power to destroy it. May Lady Luck shine on you all and the good work you do."
Sister Margaret excused herself and the party left the Temple for the luxurious accommodations of the Falcon's Crest. For much coin, the party enjoyed attended hot baths, expansive menu, and as much drink as they could imbibe. The party spent their days outfitting themselves for the approaching adventure and meeting with Hostess Ann to detail their exploits at Shadowfell Keep. Toron, a halfing information broker, also paid them a visit. A representative of Halfings Incorporated (for the love of god no), the small agent promised unique information at bargain prices. The adventurers paid up. Toron told them the name of the slaving organization working outside the minotaur ruin: Bloodreavers.
To Be Continued.
Line(s) of the Night:
"Oh my god, I'm drunk." - Blake upon finding out that drinks are free at Tymora's Temple.
"You fucker!" - Craig after Blake's wall-shaking belch interrupts an Orsen Wells-esque reading of Arabel flavor text.
"He sounds right up your alley" Megan to Pati, of a strapping young halfing information broker.
"He will be in a moment." Blake. Sexual innuendo???????
Visual of the Night:
Simon's legs spread wide, Megan on all fours in front of him on the pretext of looking for a dropped die.
Baked Good of the Night:
Megan's Jumbles. Muy delicioso!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Ale and Accolades
Summary:
Just as Kalarel melted into waxy blackness and the dark gate sucked him into its curious void, a storm broke outside the walls of the keep. It blew and rained with thunderous fury. The party stepped into the blood pool and carefully climbed through the sacrificial pit, making their way to the exit of the keep. They poked their heads out the archway and witnessed a terrific storm above them. Entire chucks of masonry tore from the walls of the keep as sheets of rain blanketed the countryside. The adventurers eased themselves back into the safety of the keep, hunkering down together for safety and warmth. Hours later, the storm abated. The party once again poked their heads out. Directly above them, blue sky. All around, swirling masses of clouds. They crawled back to shelter and a half hour later the storm resumed its pounding fury.
By early evening, the storm passed fully and the party gathered gear and loot and left the keep. The storm had further dilapidated the once proud structure. Felled trees, broken branches, and miscellaneous storm debris lined the road, hampering travel. The party arrived at Winterhaven in the wee hours of the morning. The guards summoned a bleary-eyed Lord Padreg, who arranged lodging at the local inn and then returned to slumber. Exhausted, the party collapsed in their beds and slept the sleep of the satisfied weary.
The next morning, Lord Padreg greeted the party in the common room. The adventurers debriefed Padreg, summarizing everything that had happened since they last left Winterhaven, including the climatic battle with Kalarel and his ignominious demise. Lord Padreg listened intently, his eyes shining with excitement and relief upon hearing the great evil so close to his sleepy hamlet had been squashed. In the end, he clapped his hands together and said, "Well done, heroes, well done! Please, you must stay another night and day. Let Winterhaven plan a feast in your honor, celebrating the great work you have done this day." The party kindly acquiesced, relaxing in the common room while the townspeople scurried about making preparations.
While sipping dwarven ale and elven wine, the party heard rumor that two brash wheelwrights, Clod and Ben Stiller, had left town yesterday to visit the abandoned shack of the now dead ranger, Ninaran. Well rested and already thirsty for adventure, the party readied themselves and headed out for the ranger's outpost. Except for Gilic. The dwarf barricaded himself inside the inn room, refusing to join the last-minute expedition so he could meditate on the finer points of Shava's parton goddess.
Tucked deep within the neighboring woods, Ninaran's shack was a one room affair with a slanted roof and a surrounding clearing. As the house came into sight, Taegahn and Orchid crept forward to gather reconnaissance. In front of the shack, the remains of the young wheelwrights glistened under the morning dawn. Entrails and dismembered limbs signaled a savage attack. Keeping to the forest edge of the clearing, Taegahn and Orchid continued rounding the shack. Soon, the sound of heavy rustling came to ear. As they came to the back of the house, they observed four drakes bound from a hole in the roof of the shack, calcified talons clicking sharply against the granite slabs that dotted much of the wooded landscape. Trading snarling nips, the pair of guard and needlefang drakes raced each other back to the grizzly remains of the hapless boys. The winning drake plunged its head into the chest cavity of the nearest corpse, gnashing and rooting its fill of entrails, tendons, and meat. The other three fought over the second corpse, tearing loose limbs in the jostling.
Taegahn and Orchid watched the spectacle from the safety of cover. With a nod, they carefully withdrew to make their way back to the party. Only, Orchid unskillfully stepped upon a dry twig. The snapping sound cut through the drake's carnal grunts. The animals snapped their heads straights up and slightly tilted, listening for more. Seconds later, they leaped toward Orchid's position. Taegahn continued making his way to the party. At the last minute, Gilic raced up out of breath. The party stared at him expectantly. Catching his wind, he finally let out, "And my hammer!" Queequeg rolled his eyes as Taegahn came into view, hooting unconvincingly like an owl and motioning the party forward. The adventurers sprinted towards the shack's clearing.
Meanwhile, two of the drakes flanked Orchid, biting grievous wounds into her lightly armored body. She gave as well as she got, blinding one and slicing into the other. Taegahn and Cedric banded together and wrecked horrible carnage upon the two closing needlefang drakes. Gilic, Queequeg, Gareth, and Shava continued sprinting to Orchid's rescue. Shava and Gilic called upon the healing word of their deity's to mend Orchid while Gareth and Queequeg coordinated an attack that felled the remaining guard drakes. The shack turned up empty but for a note that gave directions to track the movements of the party with respect to Shadowfell Keep. Old news. The party bagged the remains of the wheelwrights and made their way back to Winterhaven.
The adventurers diplomatically dropped off the bodies to the concerned family. Amid their sobbing, Taegahn handed them a bag of silver. The wheelwrights had been penniless in death, but Taegahn lied and said he found the pouch on one of the bodies. The family thanked him profusely, knowingly.
That night, Winterhaven launched a legendary feast in honor of the heroes. Lord Padreg gave a speech espousing the heroic virtue of the heroes before him. He referred to them as the "Heroes of Arabel." The adventurers glanced amongst themselves uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, Taegahn rose from the table and interrupted Padreg's speech. "Uh, pardon my lord, but we've been through the town of Arabel but once. If we are to be heroes, perhaps we should hail from somewhere, someplace, or something more closely related to our exploits." Shava, Taegahn's lovelier sister (in every way) rose too, a radiant light emanating from her. The entire town turned their view to hear, gazing with admiration and affection. Shava's voice rang out clear and true to the farthest corners of the hamlet, "The Victors of Shadowfell Keep!"
"The Victors of Shadowfell Keep!" the town shouted back and the adventurers smiled in return. Gilic now rose from his chair, his head just peaking over the well-laden table. He swayed back and forth unsteadily, his eyes glazed over in intoxicated glee. Dumping over his goblet of elven wine, he slurred, "Winterha-hic! I coo keel yoo awl. Hic! Yoo pets. Yoo wee childin. Hic!" He flung his arms wide and screeched, "Everting!!! Hic!" Before the party could intervene, the dwarf stumbled back into his chair and then fell face first into his plate, full of roasted mutton and spiced potatoes. The dwarf began to wheeze out a rumbling, rhythmic snore.
The crowd looked back in mute horror, the rest of the party chuckling politely. It was Lord Padreg's turn to clear his throat, once again taking center stage to continue his homage to the party. Soon, the celebration turned to music and dancing. Amid the revelry, Queequeg called for the melodius sounds of Taegahn's dulcet harp. Through gritted teeth, Taegahn angrily plucked sweet strings while Queequeg barked out a dragonborn song that had the crowd looking at each other uncomfortably and clapping politely and off-beat.
Not long after, Gilic awoke and rose again, a chunk of mutton snugly stuck in his beard. "Deed ah eva tell yoo da tale of my turd wife? Hic!"Sha had da booshiest tail yoo eva seen and afta I shod her, she rode like da wind. Hic! Sweet ridin' in da day, even sweeter riden' in da night, sha was da enva of the parish, dat one." Five adventurers swarmed Gilic before he could say more. Cedric mashed his face back into the plate, full into the potatoes. Gareth meanwhile procured another goblet of elven wine. He handed it to Gilic who once again pulled his head from the plate, mashed potato embedded in his eyebrows. He smiled contentedly as he took the wine, mumbling, "Aye, dats da stuff laddy. Come to daddy sweet nector. Hic!"
The rest of the evening past uneventfully and in the morning, the party assembled and then headed out of Winterhaven. The morning crowd lined the narrow streets, blowing kisses and shouting cheers of thanks. The Victors of Shadowfell Keep said their final goodbyes and then hit the road southeast towards Arabel.
That night, a pack of dire wolves and worgs attacked the party's encampment. Queegqueg and Orchid sounded the alarm. The battle was pitched. Queequeg nearly sucumbed to horrible bite wounds. If not for Shava's healing prowess, and his own inate ability to mend wounds, he surely would have died. VoSfK ultimately prevailed, slaying two of the dire wolves, one of the worgs, and sending the rest yiping into the dark of night.
To Be Continued
Phat Lewts:
Epic hangovers
Lines(s) of the Night:
"We're a team!" - Sean to Blake after the dynamic duo tag-teamed a ferious drake.
"We are not a team" - Blake's immediate response to Sean.
"Apparantly we're not a team, so I killed it." Sean, clarifying the bragging rights for said slain drake.
Rule(s) Clarification of the Night:
Megan teaching Craig the finer points of charging.
Just as Kalarel melted into waxy blackness and the dark gate sucked him into its curious void, a storm broke outside the walls of the keep. It blew and rained with thunderous fury. The party stepped into the blood pool and carefully climbed through the sacrificial pit, making their way to the exit of the keep. They poked their heads out the archway and witnessed a terrific storm above them. Entire chucks of masonry tore from the walls of the keep as sheets of rain blanketed the countryside. The adventurers eased themselves back into the safety of the keep, hunkering down together for safety and warmth. Hours later, the storm abated. The party once again poked their heads out. Directly above them, blue sky. All around, swirling masses of clouds. They crawled back to shelter and a half hour later the storm resumed its pounding fury.
By early evening, the storm passed fully and the party gathered gear and loot and left the keep. The storm had further dilapidated the once proud structure. Felled trees, broken branches, and miscellaneous storm debris lined the road, hampering travel. The party arrived at Winterhaven in the wee hours of the morning. The guards summoned a bleary-eyed Lord Padreg, who arranged lodging at the local inn and then returned to slumber. Exhausted, the party collapsed in their beds and slept the sleep of the satisfied weary.
The next morning, Lord Padreg greeted the party in the common room. The adventurers debriefed Padreg, summarizing everything that had happened since they last left Winterhaven, including the climatic battle with Kalarel and his ignominious demise. Lord Padreg listened intently, his eyes shining with excitement and relief upon hearing the great evil so close to his sleepy hamlet had been squashed. In the end, he clapped his hands together and said, "Well done, heroes, well done! Please, you must stay another night and day. Let Winterhaven plan a feast in your honor, celebrating the great work you have done this day." The party kindly acquiesced, relaxing in the common room while the townspeople scurried about making preparations.
While sipping dwarven ale and elven wine, the party heard rumor that two brash wheelwrights, Clod and Ben Stiller, had left town yesterday to visit the abandoned shack of the now dead ranger, Ninaran. Well rested and already thirsty for adventure, the party readied themselves and headed out for the ranger's outpost. Except for Gilic. The dwarf barricaded himself inside the inn room, refusing to join the last-minute expedition so he could meditate on the finer points of Shava's parton goddess.
Tucked deep within the neighboring woods, Ninaran's shack was a one room affair with a slanted roof and a surrounding clearing. As the house came into sight, Taegahn and Orchid crept forward to gather reconnaissance. In front of the shack, the remains of the young wheelwrights glistened under the morning dawn. Entrails and dismembered limbs signaled a savage attack. Keeping to the forest edge of the clearing, Taegahn and Orchid continued rounding the shack. Soon, the sound of heavy rustling came to ear. As they came to the back of the house, they observed four drakes bound from a hole in the roof of the shack, calcified talons clicking sharply against the granite slabs that dotted much of the wooded landscape. Trading snarling nips, the pair of guard and needlefang drakes raced each other back to the grizzly remains of the hapless boys. The winning drake plunged its head into the chest cavity of the nearest corpse, gnashing and rooting its fill of entrails, tendons, and meat. The other three fought over the second corpse, tearing loose limbs in the jostling.
Taegahn and Orchid watched the spectacle from the safety of cover. With a nod, they carefully withdrew to make their way back to the party. Only, Orchid unskillfully stepped upon a dry twig. The snapping sound cut through the drake's carnal grunts. The animals snapped their heads straights up and slightly tilted, listening for more. Seconds later, they leaped toward Orchid's position. Taegahn continued making his way to the party. At the last minute, Gilic raced up out of breath. The party stared at him expectantly. Catching his wind, he finally let out, "And my hammer!" Queequeg rolled his eyes as Taegahn came into view, hooting unconvincingly like an owl and motioning the party forward. The adventurers sprinted towards the shack's clearing.
Meanwhile, two of the drakes flanked Orchid, biting grievous wounds into her lightly armored body. She gave as well as she got, blinding one and slicing into the other. Taegahn and Cedric banded together and wrecked horrible carnage upon the two closing needlefang drakes. Gilic, Queequeg, Gareth, and Shava continued sprinting to Orchid's rescue. Shava and Gilic called upon the healing word of their deity's to mend Orchid while Gareth and Queequeg coordinated an attack that felled the remaining guard drakes. The shack turned up empty but for a note that gave directions to track the movements of the party with respect to Shadowfell Keep. Old news. The party bagged the remains of the wheelwrights and made their way back to Winterhaven.
The adventurers diplomatically dropped off the bodies to the concerned family. Amid their sobbing, Taegahn handed them a bag of silver. The wheelwrights had been penniless in death, but Taegahn lied and said he found the pouch on one of the bodies. The family thanked him profusely, knowingly.
That night, Winterhaven launched a legendary feast in honor of the heroes. Lord Padreg gave a speech espousing the heroic virtue of the heroes before him. He referred to them as the "Heroes of Arabel." The adventurers glanced amongst themselves uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, Taegahn rose from the table and interrupted Padreg's speech. "Uh, pardon my lord, but we've been through the town of Arabel but once. If we are to be heroes, perhaps we should hail from somewhere, someplace, or something more closely related to our exploits." Shava, Taegahn's lovelier sister (in every way) rose too, a radiant light emanating from her. The entire town turned their view to hear, gazing with admiration and affection. Shava's voice rang out clear and true to the farthest corners of the hamlet, "The Victors of Shadowfell Keep!"
"The Victors of Shadowfell Keep!" the town shouted back and the adventurers smiled in return. Gilic now rose from his chair, his head just peaking over the well-laden table. He swayed back and forth unsteadily, his eyes glazed over in intoxicated glee. Dumping over his goblet of elven wine, he slurred, "Winterha-hic! I coo keel yoo awl. Hic! Yoo pets. Yoo wee childin. Hic!" He flung his arms wide and screeched, "Everting!!! Hic!" Before the party could intervene, the dwarf stumbled back into his chair and then fell face first into his plate, full of roasted mutton and spiced potatoes. The dwarf began to wheeze out a rumbling, rhythmic snore.
The crowd looked back in mute horror, the rest of the party chuckling politely. It was Lord Padreg's turn to clear his throat, once again taking center stage to continue his homage to the party. Soon, the celebration turned to music and dancing. Amid the revelry, Queequeg called for the melodius sounds of Taegahn's dulcet harp. Through gritted teeth, Taegahn angrily plucked sweet strings while Queequeg barked out a dragonborn song that had the crowd looking at each other uncomfortably and clapping politely and off-beat.
Not long after, Gilic awoke and rose again, a chunk of mutton snugly stuck in his beard. "Deed ah eva tell yoo da tale of my turd wife? Hic!"Sha had da booshiest tail yoo eva seen and afta I shod her, she rode like da wind. Hic! Sweet ridin' in da day, even sweeter riden' in da night, sha was da enva of the parish, dat one." Five adventurers swarmed Gilic before he could say more. Cedric mashed his face back into the plate, full into the potatoes. Gareth meanwhile procured another goblet of elven wine. He handed it to Gilic who once again pulled his head from the plate, mashed potato embedded in his eyebrows. He smiled contentedly as he took the wine, mumbling, "Aye, dats da stuff laddy. Come to daddy sweet nector. Hic!"
The rest of the evening past uneventfully and in the morning, the party assembled and then headed out of Winterhaven. The morning crowd lined the narrow streets, blowing kisses and shouting cheers of thanks. The Victors of Shadowfell Keep said their final goodbyes and then hit the road southeast towards Arabel.
That night, a pack of dire wolves and worgs attacked the party's encampment. Queegqueg and Orchid sounded the alarm. The battle was pitched. Queequeg nearly sucumbed to horrible bite wounds. If not for Shava's healing prowess, and his own inate ability to mend wounds, he surely would have died. VoSfK ultimately prevailed, slaying two of the dire wolves, one of the worgs, and sending the rest yiping into the dark of night.
To Be Continued
Phat Lewts:
Epic hangovers
Lines(s) of the Night:
"We're a team!" - Sean to Blake after the dynamic duo tag-teamed a ferious drake.
"We are not a team" - Blake's immediate response to Sean.
"Apparantly we're not a team, so I killed it." Sean, clarifying the bragging rights for said slain drake.
Rule(s) Clarification of the Night:
Megan teaching Craig the finer points of charging.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
When Hurricanes Attack!
Session Summary:
Session cancelled due to Hurricane Ike.
Line(s) of the Night:
"Aaahhhhhhhhhh!" - City of Houston residents as Ike descended.
Session cancelled due to Hurricane Ike.
Line(s) of the Night:
"Aaahhhhhhhhhh!" - City of Houston residents as Ike descended.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Shadowfell Keep, Epic Battle II
Summary:
The party peered down the dark pit. The alter resumed spewing forth viscous blood, rivers streaming down the sides of the dark shrine and weaving across the room until finally draining into the square blackness. Taegahn dropped a sunrod into the pit. It briefly flashed a pool of blood before plopping ominously and sinking. Darkness crept back.
With no obvious way down to the lower level of the blood pool, the party conferred and agreed to backtrack. Double doors, barred with a sign "Closed," still remained unexplored. Queequeg ripped the sign off and Orchid and Taegahn carefully opened the door. A long passage, splitting left and right and the far end. Taegahn crept left, Orchid right. Seconds later, Taegahn reappeared, backtracking quickly. Something seemed to shimmer in his wake and when Taeghan loosed an arrow, it seemed to stick to something in midair. Queequeg barked an order to move and Gilic charged forth, close behind. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, hacking and slashing at the gelatinous cube. Shava commanded it back and the shambling horror jiggled in place as the rest of the party opened up withering melee and ranged attacks. The romping jello abomination exploded, spewing hot goo all over the surrounding floor, walls, and adventurers.
The party scraped the gelatin off them and finished exploring the two hallways. The left dead-ended, but the right opened into a small room, four sarcophagus in each corner. Queegueg moved towards the closest, gripping the bottom of the ancient stone lid and heaving with all his might. Gareth and Gilic joined him and the lid slowly pried loose and then exploded forth along with the other three unattended lids. The closest of the corruption corpses reached into his stomach cavity and pulled forth writhing intestines, glistening with a foul stench that almost bowled the adventurers over. Grinning hideously, he hurled the guts like a grenade, which exploded with nectroic energy that damaged and paralyzed. The four proved tougher than the zombie minions of previous encounters, but the party eventually prevailed. A door and room behind held a chest ripe with treasure, including a magic amulet that proved best suited for Shava.
The party rested briefly, considering their options. There were no parts of the Keep to explore. Unless they had missed some secret door or passage, the only egress to the bottom level under the bloody alter was the ominous pit.
They backtracked once again. Standing over the pit, Queequeg, Gareth, Gilic, and Taegahn marshaled their resolve and slid down the four-corner chains that descended to the blood pool below. They landed smartly, springing into action the moment their feet touched solid ground. The scene before them mirrored that of the floor above them. A high priest worshipped at an alter to the west, intermingled moans and chants breathing pure oblivion into the chamber and past a portal that pulsed a black soupy energy. The high priest could be none other than Kalarel himself, intently weaving some dark ritual. Glyphs in front of the portal glowed an electric turquoise. The undead formed a triangle that surrounded the party and the blood pool, two in front of the high priest and one far across them. Caught momentarily off-guard, the four charged forth and the battle for Shadowfell Keep began.
Meanwhile, Orchid, Cedric, and Shava attempted to descend the chains. Orchid slid down deftly, but Shava lost her grip early on and fell. Though she landed on her feet by virtue of her new magic amulet, the force of the freefall rippled throughout her frame, sending her staggering in pain. Cedric too fell, landing sideways. Snapping bone marked his arrival as he slowly stood up.
As half the party arrived on the scene ungracefully, the other four tore into the priest and his undead force. The far undead was a deathlock wight. From range, he blasted the party with grave bolts, necrotically charged missile that burned the soul and paralyzed the body. At one point, he stopped his barrage and reanimated a skeleton warrior that had been felled by Gilic's sturdy maul.
Early in the battle Kalarel yelled out a commanding word, teleporting himself and his two closet minions to the middle of the blue-tinged floor glyph. Taegahn wasted no time in pivoting ninety degrees and unloading on him, arrows ripping into the high priest with such force, he was pushed back outside the glyph and directly in front of the portal. Taegahn's satisfied grin went slack as he witnessed the portal's sheer surface ripple across, a bony claw bursting out only to be caressed and stroked by Kalarel. The party split their attention between Kalarel and the emerging undead dragon, Shardrexyl and the dreadlock wight. As Gareth and Gilic felled the two skeleton warriors and closed in on Kalarel, Shardrexyl pushed against the portal binding him in some foreign plane of existence and lashed out at the party. Gareth took the brunt of these attacks, ducking a taloned claw as he lashed out at the taunting high priest. The dreadlock wight proved a distracting opponent and it took precious seconds for Shava, Queequeg, Taegahn, and Cedric to finally fell it.
Out of minions, the party closed in on Kalarel. Every time Shardrexyl lashed out and struck, dark energy seeped back into the high priest, restrengthening him. The adventurers steeled themselves, surrounding Kalarel and reigning blows and fire down upon him. Shardrexyl continued to harry the party, at one point attempting to grab Orchid and Gareth and drag them back to his hellish domain. The two narrowly escaped and returned to battle. Finally, Kalarel teetering from multiple wounds, Queequeg observed the high priest lower his guard for a moment. The dragonborn warlord shouted to Gareth to strike! Gareth reacted from pure instinct, sweeping his great axe full into Kalarel. Shuddering for a split second, Kalarel screamed and then warped into a viscous ooze that matched the surface of the portal. Still in the shape of the man, the ooze seemed to try to move away from the portal, but Shardrexyl's claw suddenly burst once more from the portal and with a clenched fist, snapped the high priest into the portal. The claw receded too and the portal and chamber became eerily quiet.
Kalarel was defeated! Shardrexyl's summoning prevented! The legacy of Jerold Qeegan was restored and the nearby sleepy hamlet of Winterhaven saved!
The party peered down the dark pit. The alter resumed spewing forth viscous blood, rivers streaming down the sides of the dark shrine and weaving across the room until finally draining into the square blackness. Taegahn dropped a sunrod into the pit. It briefly flashed a pool of blood before plopping ominously and sinking. Darkness crept back.
With no obvious way down to the lower level of the blood pool, the party conferred and agreed to backtrack. Double doors, barred with a sign "Closed," still remained unexplored. Queequeg ripped the sign off and Orchid and Taegahn carefully opened the door. A long passage, splitting left and right and the far end. Taegahn crept left, Orchid right. Seconds later, Taegahn reappeared, backtracking quickly. Something seemed to shimmer in his wake and when Taeghan loosed an arrow, it seemed to stick to something in midair. Queequeg barked an order to move and Gilic charged forth, close behind. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, hacking and slashing at the gelatinous cube. Shava commanded it back and the shambling horror jiggled in place as the rest of the party opened up withering melee and ranged attacks. The romping jello abomination exploded, spewing hot goo all over the surrounding floor, walls, and adventurers.
The party scraped the gelatin off them and finished exploring the two hallways. The left dead-ended, but the right opened into a small room, four sarcophagus in each corner. Queegueg moved towards the closest, gripping the bottom of the ancient stone lid and heaving with all his might. Gareth and Gilic joined him and the lid slowly pried loose and then exploded forth along with the other three unattended lids. The closest of the corruption corpses reached into his stomach cavity and pulled forth writhing intestines, glistening with a foul stench that almost bowled the adventurers over. Grinning hideously, he hurled the guts like a grenade, which exploded with nectroic energy that damaged and paralyzed. The four proved tougher than the zombie minions of previous encounters, but the party eventually prevailed. A door and room behind held a chest ripe with treasure, including a magic amulet that proved best suited for Shava.
The party rested briefly, considering their options. There were no parts of the Keep to explore. Unless they had missed some secret door or passage, the only egress to the bottom level under the bloody alter was the ominous pit.
They backtracked once again. Standing over the pit, Queequeg, Gareth, Gilic, and Taegahn marshaled their resolve and slid down the four-corner chains that descended to the blood pool below. They landed smartly, springing into action the moment their feet touched solid ground. The scene before them mirrored that of the floor above them. A high priest worshipped at an alter to the west, intermingled moans and chants breathing pure oblivion into the chamber and past a portal that pulsed a black soupy energy. The high priest could be none other than Kalarel himself, intently weaving some dark ritual. Glyphs in front of the portal glowed an electric turquoise. The undead formed a triangle that surrounded the party and the blood pool, two in front of the high priest and one far across them. Caught momentarily off-guard, the four charged forth and the battle for Shadowfell Keep began.
Meanwhile, Orchid, Cedric, and Shava attempted to descend the chains. Orchid slid down deftly, but Shava lost her grip early on and fell. Though she landed on her feet by virtue of her new magic amulet, the force of the freefall rippled throughout her frame, sending her staggering in pain. Cedric too fell, landing sideways. Snapping bone marked his arrival as he slowly stood up.
As half the party arrived on the scene ungracefully, the other four tore into the priest and his undead force. The far undead was a deathlock wight. From range, he blasted the party with grave bolts, necrotically charged missile that burned the soul and paralyzed the body. At one point, he stopped his barrage and reanimated a skeleton warrior that had been felled by Gilic's sturdy maul.
Early in the battle Kalarel yelled out a commanding word, teleporting himself and his two closet minions to the middle of the blue-tinged floor glyph. Taegahn wasted no time in pivoting ninety degrees and unloading on him, arrows ripping into the high priest with such force, he was pushed back outside the glyph and directly in front of the portal. Taegahn's satisfied grin went slack as he witnessed the portal's sheer surface ripple across, a bony claw bursting out only to be caressed and stroked by Kalarel. The party split their attention between Kalarel and the emerging undead dragon, Shardrexyl and the dreadlock wight. As Gareth and Gilic felled the two skeleton warriors and closed in on Kalarel, Shardrexyl pushed against the portal binding him in some foreign plane of existence and lashed out at the party. Gareth took the brunt of these attacks, ducking a taloned claw as he lashed out at the taunting high priest. The dreadlock wight proved a distracting opponent and it took precious seconds for Shava, Queequeg, Taegahn, and Cedric to finally fell it.
Out of minions, the party closed in on Kalarel. Every time Shardrexyl lashed out and struck, dark energy seeped back into the high priest, restrengthening him. The adventurers steeled themselves, surrounding Kalarel and reigning blows and fire down upon him. Shardrexyl continued to harry the party, at one point attempting to grab Orchid and Gareth and drag them back to his hellish domain. The two narrowly escaped and returned to battle. Finally, Kalarel teetering from multiple wounds, Queequeg observed the high priest lower his guard for a moment. The dragonborn warlord shouted to Gareth to strike! Gareth reacted from pure instinct, sweeping his great axe full into Kalarel. Shuddering for a split second, Kalarel screamed and then warped into a viscous ooze that matched the surface of the portal. Still in the shape of the man, the ooze seemed to try to move away from the portal, but Shardrexyl's claw suddenly burst once more from the portal and with a clenched fist, snapped the high priest into the portal. The claw receded too and the portal and chamber became eerily quiet.
Kalarel was defeated! Shardrexyl's summoning prevented! The legacy of Jerold Qeegan was restored and the nearby sleepy hamlet of Winterhaven saved!
TO BE CONTINUED
Phat Lewt:
Amulet of Something Wing - Shava
Dagger +2 - Vendor
Line(s) of the Night:
Phat Lewt:
Amulet of Something Wing - Shava
Dagger +2 - Vendor
Line(s) of the Night:
"These agents of evil are outstanding housekeepers." - Sean, commenting on the cleanliness of a dungeon hallway. "Shhhh. Why the fuck do you think I'm sneaking!" Blake to Sean, as he tries to sneak down the hallway.
"Do you girls need me to assist?" - Pati, watching Queequeg, Gilic, and Gareth struggle to open a sarcophagus lid.
"No man has seen them all . . . and lived to tell the tale." Pati, about the shurkins equipped on her.
"I want a fire-breathing pony." - Sean.
"Girls pet cute things. One day you'll learn." Simon to Sean, referencing Pocket Dragons.
Baked Good of the Night: Megan's Carrot Cake
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