WORK IN PROGRESS…

WORK IN PROGRESS…

The earth opened and from it swirled a vortex of earth, rock, and grass. As the dirt settled, the party from Greyhawk stood together, fronted by the Geomancer, Laterius. In the distance was the kingdom of Yggsburgh, surrounded by channels of water and walled from the rest of the Kellaghan wilderness.

The peculiarly well-dressed Geomancer turned to Vetnik and revealed in his hand a small stone medallion with strange crystallized patterns covering its surface.
“When the march on Morgoth begins, knock this stone against the earth three times and I shall appear.”
“Thank you, stranger,” Vetnik said, taking the stone with a gracious warrior’s bow. Laterius nodded his head respectfully before, in an instant, his body burst into a tall column of dirt that was just as quickly carried off by a gentle afternoon breeze.

The path to Yggsburgh was narrow and quiet, with a small outpost set up to assist travelers to the city. It was Abigail who took note of the last carriages into town, and noting their collective exhaustion, took it upon herself to book it for the team. The party split in two, with Vetnik, Moira, and the Twins in one carriage. Once alone, Moira kept up a brave face in front of the others and let the hope for her brother’s life keep her calm. In the other carriage, Abigail joined both Lyssa and Trisoll – as well as an apathetic Grunt. She revealed that her co-operatives would be waiting at her childhood home along with her mother. The others were typically mum and withdrawn, but Lyssa showed a curious (though almost fleeting) interest in Abigail’s history. She revealed that her mother was a patient woman, who dealt with life as a single mother the best she could, despite all of her daughter’s efforts to fight it. Abigail continued to reminisce and told the others of her own troubled past which began as an overly aggressive and belligerent young girl whose tendencies towards hotheaded violence sent her on an even more destructive path.
“How destructive?” Lyssa inquired.
“I sold myself with those who dwelled in the city’s underbelly, taking contracts. At first, I was just strongarming and shaking down where I could. It didn’t take long for my employers to exploit my strength, and eventually I was taking lives for the highest bidder. It was only thanks to the pleading of my mother and finding the light of my life, Maja, that I found a better way.”
Underwhelmed, Lyssa replied. “That was it? Hmph.”

The party entered into Yggsburgh with ease, and Abigail quickly led them through her old stomping grounds towards her home. Occasionally, she pointed out different smiths and craftsmen who might be able to aid them while they gathered themselves before going into battle. It wasn’t long before they made it to Abigail’s home, which was located in a cluster of apartment buildings and relatively windowless. As she opened the door, the apartment seemed noticeably quiet. Especially given that not only her mother, but also her trusted companions were to be waiting for their arrival. The party gathered together in the long, dim corridor leading towards the center parlor of her home, when suddenly, a series of magic mouths began to burst open along the walls. Each of them seemed to possess a different yet familiar voice but all of them carried with it the same message: terror. The walls nonsensically cried out for mercy, screaming and hollering as if the walls themselves were enduring unimaginable brutal acts. Abigail called out to her friends and her mother. “Where are you? I’m here, it’s Abigail! Where—“

As she sprinted past the shrieking mouths, she stopped at the end and saw the shimmering silhouette of two figures. Both were well known to her. The first was the Drow himself, Kr’zzt, his hooded cloak and blackened, web-patterned armor coated in fresh blood. In front of him, on her knees, was Abigail’s mother, her spine rigid and straight as he cupped her jaw in one hand and held an ornate dagger against her throat with the other.
“Mother!”
The projection began to speak and as it did, the arcane bodies glicthed and fickered.
“This is no longer a warning. You will not stand against us, but fall beneath us. I have already taken your men.”
Abigail’s stern demeanor shattered before the others. She feebly pleaded with the Drow to unhand her, all while the screams of her companions echoed throughout the home.
The phantasm was a recording, and she knew deep down that her pleas would be in vain. Kr’zzt continued, “I have taken your mother. It is only a matter of time before I take you as well.”
Abigail helplessly watched as Kr’zzt took the dagger across her mother’s wiry neck. Her body convulsed as she watched the crimson seep from the neck wound her mother now struggled to reach for. Abigail scrambled towards the parlor, where the projection of her mother laid chest down on the floor, gripping at its throat. “No, no, no, no, no!”
Kr’zzt raised his dagger and pointed it at the party and continued. “And let this serve as a warning for not only you, but your sister, the witch, as well. Your mother will meet a similar fate should any of you continue!”
The phantasm vanished in a blink of cyan energy, leaving Abigail trembling on the floor. She slowly turned her head round to see Lyssa now at the front of the party, her eyes seething with wild magic.

Without missing a beat, the four closed doors surrounding the parlor burst open and each emptied with a large figure shrouded in black robes and hoods. In their wrapped hands, they charged with glass short swords. Lyssa lined up a trio of them and focused all her rage on a single spell. The rage seemed to cloud her head too much, and to those around her, nothing seemed to happen. That is, until, the first assassin rushed the party and before reaching them, seemed to crash full speed into some unseen barrier. So hard, in fact, that he fell prone to the ground. Just as the assassin fell, Grum fired an arrow at the assassins and watched as the arrow bounced off the invisible barrier surrounding them. As the arrow collided though, he noticed the slight flicker of red wild magic. Thom stood back and began to drum for the party as Grunt took up Hank and fired off a test arrow into whatever kept the two warring parties at bay. The white energy of the arrow crashed against the barrier and seemed to be consumed by the brief flash of red chaos magic before disappearing.
“No!” Lyssa hissed before creating a small arcane rift around her, which put her behind the assassins on the other side of what she could see: a wild wall of force. The other members of the party looked around but could do little, as they remained trapped in the hall. With no other escape option, Vetnik and Grum began to kick at the thin wooden walls surrounding them with hopes of creating a tunnel into the parlor. Meanwhile, Lyssa began her face-off against the masked creatures, whose bulky bodies seemed to possess a strange gait that was hard to discern. Before they could attack, Lyssa raised her hand and released a line of roaring fire that coated the creatures, but wasn’t enough to fell them.

+++++++++++++

The party broke through the walls and managed to enter the house through the walls, slaying the assassins. They were revealed to be dark Geldan, agents of Kr’zzt.

Lyssa finally reveals after pressure from Abigail that she is in fact her half-sister, and promises that she will do everything in her power to avenge her mother.

The party splits in two. Lyssa stays behind at Abigail’s home where use cloaks herself from detection and uses the Eye of Modius in an attempt to contact their father. She’s unable to receive an answer but does receive a boon (teleport without error spell), and leaves Modius a message, “You owe the both of us now.”

Meanwhile, Trisoll used his speak with dead ability to tap into the mind of the slain Dark Geldan. While most answers were vague, he did glean that the best way into the Kr’zzt’s encampment was from beneath the black ice of Morgoth.

The rest of the party visited the town’s mayor, a half orc who granted them access to their potioners and weaponsmiths, as well as promised them her armies to aid in battle. They pulled their funds together and received the following items:

Oil of High Conquering (+2 to THAC0 to applied weapon) 3600gp
Potion of Black Dragon Breath 2800gp
Oil of Carnation (cures all non-magical diseases, immune to all forms of disease for 24 hrs) 900gp
Portion of Storm Giant Strength 2800gp
Liquid of Metal Fatigue (4 ap, causes metal to rust in 1d4 rounds, save v disintegration) 2400gp

The party regrouped and Vetnik contacted Laterius in order to transport.

+++++++++++++

On the outskirts of the barren, black wastes known as Morgoth, the party stood together with Laterius once more. Cresting over the icy horizon, plumes of dark smoke cut through the otherwise dull cement sky. The landscape was dismal and monochrome, only interrupted by briefs glimpses of blood red banners bearing the symbol of the Circle of Bones. Others were charcoal and bore a single X on them while the last few were more ornate in nature, built from the silken bulk of the giant spider. Those shredded banners flew highest and flapped in the wind, their web strands creating an almost specter-like effect over the battlefield. There was no music, only the sound of the various evils moving across thick black ice. Evils of all shape, size, and nature: from the combined armies of the Sun and Moon Elves; the orcs, ogres and giants wielding crude and massive weapons; the giant spiders and druegar; and finally, flanking the hordes, two dragons. More massive than any creature the party had ever come across in their adventures. One was slick and black, like a living shadow, while the other was more familiar to them. It was a massive blue dragon, whose throat seamed to glow from within with searing electricity.

Vetnik and Moira took each other’s hand for one last time before drawing their weapons. They turned to each other and for a moment, took in every last detail of each other’s face. Grum and Thom stretched their limbs, readied their weapons, and in a feat of twinness, cocked their heads at the same time. As Grunt began to gather the arcane energy used to wield Hank, Trisoll turned to Lyssa with a mix of helplessness and excitement.
“This is it!” Trisoll said, his adrenaline going and his breath heavy. “Everyone, listen, if we don’t make it back together, I just want you guys to know—“
“Save it,” Lyssa interrupted as she drew a small glass orb from her satchel. Inside the bottle, the dusty, cloudy blue liquid occasionally seemed to flicker with small bursts of light. She downed the strange potion and tossed the bottle over her shoulder. Her once glowing red eyes suddenly changed to electric blue. “Just save me that Blue Dragon.”

WORK IN PROGRESS…

The party arrived at Bar’doth Kek-taur, a secluded dwarven kingdom hidden deep in the mountains of Kellagha. Having safely guided the party into the the kingdom, the spirit of the dwarven cleric, Duinor, abandoned the body of the party’s cleric, Trisoll, and finally ascended from the Prime Material Plane into the afterlife. However, this self-exorcism left Trisoll in a catatonic state. The party was asked to stay the evening so that an event may be held in their honor, which they reluctantly agreed to. Trisoll was carted off to recuperate while the others split off into pairs and rest for the evening. Having a lengthy firsthand experience in dealing with possession, a sympathetic Lyssa rushes off to keep watch over Trisoll.

During the evening, the party was visited by royal attendants who came requesting to measurements of each member. When asked by Vetnik as to what they needed them for, they simply replied, “the Emperor’s gift, milord.” (Grum mused to his visiting attendant, “what, coffins?”) When an attendant came to visit Lyssa and Trisoll, Lyssa was immediately put on guard. With her signature arcane glowing red eyes, Lyssa frightened the attendant into fleeing from the room and ordered her to only return with healers in tow. Alone once more, Lyssa continued to watch over Trisoll as she combed through her spell book and magical items, looking for some way to wake Trisoll from his slumber. Using a mind scan, Lyssa found Trisoll’s psyche too weak to project his thoughts but could feel him slowly pulling together psychic strength.

The rest of the party took short rests and were offered new attire for their audience with the emperor — none of which fit since the clothes were dwarven in not only make, but size as well. Vetnik left Moira and went in search of Trisoll. A dwarven servant named Belek agreed to escort the barbarian to where his friend was being kept. The pair briefly discussed life in Bar’doth Kek-taur and Emperor Durgoth’s stern but benevolent rule before being reunited with his companions. Vetnik and Lyssa discussed what they could do for Trisoll to pull him out of his state (“Come back to me my friend,” Vetnik whispered to him with no reaction.) Their discussion over whether or not the dwarves of Bar’doth Kek-taur could be trusted was disrupted by another attendant, who relayed a summons from the Emperor. Lyssa refused, even against Vetnik’s urging and promise that he would carry Trisoll with them before the Emperor.
“I understand your action, and I appreciate you staying with him. Protocol demands otherwise. I’ll be back soon.”
Vetnik returns to Moira, who confides in her his fear for Trisoll as well as regret over not urging Lyssa to take her audience with the royal court.

The party came together in the great dining hall before the Emperor and his court of advisors and chancellors. The Emperor’s mouthpiece, Demarek Gordemn, summoned the royal attendants to court, the same who came to the measure the party, and they brought with them several suits of armor, all of which were made of or contain, real metal. Abigail’s was visibly moved when presented her first suit of iron platemail, while Moira was honored to receive a set of armor bearing the symbols of the sword (Starstrike) and shield (Bladebane) of her fathers. When it came time to Lyssa, Vetnik managed to convince Demarek to excuse her. Once gifts were all bestowed, the real feast began, the stoicism of the great hall was lifted as the Emperor ordered the heroes feast to begin. Back in Trisoll’s room, Lyssa could hear the carousing of men and women enjoying the finest in dwarven food and drink. Suddenly, Trisoll’s eyes burst open as he shot up off the gurney with a great exhale. Panicked at first, Trisoll searched the room for a familiar face and found Lyssa at his side, who tried to keep him calm as best as she could.
“What happened? Where is everyone else?”
“Presumably drunk by the sound of it. What do you remember?”
“I remember the pillar in Beoll-dur. Wait, are we still in Beoll-dur?”
“Not quite.”
“Not quite? What do you mean not quite!?”
“What else do you remember?”
“I remember the pillar made of crystal and then… then my head, hurting. Overcome with pain. And now, I’m here, with you, alone, in not-Beoll-dur. You said everyone is drunk?”
“We’re in an underground kingdom, dwarves—“
“Dwarves?!”
“Yes, lots of them, a whole mountain full. Back in Beoll-dur, you were taken—“
“Taken?!”
“Will you stop? Yes, you were possessed by the spirit of some old dwarven cleric. He guided us here to relative safety, and now everyone seems to be eating and drinking.”
Trisoll emerged off the table, his eyes bloodshot with frustration. Lyssa stepped aside, sympathetic to his anger, and slowly followed as he stomped out of the room and down towards the great hall to meet the others.

Trisoll approached the great hall and could see his friends and companions mixing it up with the dwarven royalty. He stood under the threshold and with unprecedented frustration, he cried out: “I AM SICK AND TIRED OF BEING USED!” The earth itself rumbled as he stood, for only a moment, but a moment that hushed the room. All eyes were on him. Emperor Durgoth whispered in Demarek’s ear as Vetnik did his best to calm down the angry cleric. Through Demarek, Emperor Durgoth summoned Trisoll over to explain himself. Durgoth is taken by Trisoll’s usual fiery disposition and makes a royal toast to his honor and brazenness! With Trisoll calmed, the party resumed with renewed fervor – both Moira and Thom were both victims of the strong dwarven ale. As Moira professes her love for Lyssa’s ascerbicness, Thom contemplates his new, metallic fingers while his brother, Grum, revealed that he in fact knew about the fingers but promised not to tell the others.

The party finds out that the kingdom’s resource of ore has been blocked off for weeks by some strange phenomenon down in the iron vaults: a large, floating orb of shifting Elemental energies blocking the main passage that no one in the kingdom has been able to dispel. The party agrees to investigate, and together with three of the emperor’s finest warriors, in exchange for a few platoons of dwarven warriors to assist the party in the battle at Morgoth. Lyssa and Trisoll confide in each other about their continued homesickness. Lyssa revealed though that her duty is to the party, but more importantly, herself, and if comes down to it, she’ll be willing to take down Barth if necessary. Trisoll pleaded with Lyssa to at least let him devise a plan with the others, especially, Moira, before signing Barth off to death.

The trio of metal-hungry xorn emerged from against the cave walls with tooth and claw drawn. The party dispatches them easily and they continue towards the opening of the vaults. There, the party comes face to face with the orb. The large mass swirls with colliding Elemental energies; fire, water, earth, and air flow across each other yet seem to remain unaffected. Lyssa consults the Eye of Modius and it’s revealed that the orb itself is made up of four Elementals who were forcibly taken from their planes and magically fused together to become a prison for something of great power. Grunt hands off his Arrows of Elemental Slaying to Grunt and shoots them into the orb. The arrows crash into the coils of fire and water, and the party watches as they evaporate, leaving only air and earth. The swirling combination of earth and air began to unravel, separate, and float down towards the party. The misty vapor and pieces of sand and rock began to take on their truth natures, forming separately into the bodies of both Air and Earth Elementals. As the orb of Elemental energy dispersed, it revealed to the party a fifth form, curled up into a ball and floating, a thin, humanoid man in fine, yet understandably dirtied, formal attire.

Lyssa recited a dispel magic spell from her scroll, but as the glowing letters lifted off the page, she was suddenly overcome with a wild surge. The arcane words that fluttered towards the mysterious elemental orb begin to merge and grow into one large humanoid mass of shimmering chaotic energy. Before the party stood a towering Dispel Magic Elemental, its body composed entirely of magical energies, the sinew of which flickered and flared as veins of wild magic collided into one another. The party prepared themselves for the worse, but watched as the Dispel Magic Elemental lumbered towards the orb of Elemental energy and slammed its energy fist against it. The Dispel Magic Elemental immediately dispersed and took with it the air elemental. The being in the center now freed, he comes to and the party watches as the mysterious figure warps the earth elemental into oblivion.

The party confronts a small patrol of duergars who are smuggling dwarven ore through a gate portal. The party slays all but one, who telepathically reveals that an army is growing in Morgoth, evil creatures of all make (from duergars to dragons) under the banners of the Ebon Rider, Kr’zzt, and the Circle of Bones.

The earth opened with a vortex of dirt and grass, and the party emerged from beneath the planet itself with Laterius. Back on the surface, they now stood at the great gates of a massive, enclosed city. While there was little they could see over the city walls, one structure in particular cut up into the sky and caught their attention: a large, towering castle resting at the top of a hill, not unlike Castle Zagyg in Greyhawk. This castle, however, appeared to be in fine condition. Together, the party prepared to enter Yggsburgh.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Having (literally) unseated the Salamander king, Searzul, from his throne beneath the halls of the ruined Beoll-dur and slain him, the party continued to make their way through the feverishly hot stronghold of the Peerless Legion in search of a way back up to the surface.

Despite their best efforts, the scouts and thieves of the party were unable to find any other access point in the throne room. It was the blue-blooded Vetnik who discovered a secret passageway out of the room though, which opened into a long, spiraling corridor cutting through the subterranean kingdom. (“There’s always a secret exit!”) 60 feet in, Grum and Grunt disarmed an undisclosed trap before continuing down the corridor that ended in a locked, untrapped door. Grum opened the door, revealing a room filled with jewels and treasures piled against the walls at least 10 inches high. Lyssa urged Moira to detect any evil while Grum looks over the storeroom with his Gem of Seeing and revealed that the treasures appeared authentic. As the Moira scanned the room, Thom reached into the pile of treasures and inadvertently set off an unseen trigger. An arcane gate opened and from it emerged three more Salamanders who proceeded to ambush the party. Both Grum and Moira were both slashed by their spears; the second ended up fumbling and injuring itself while engaged with Moira. The infernal presence of the creatures began to quickly warp and char the gold and jewels, and seeing the potential for chromatic ingredients to be damaged, Lyssa rushed to cool the room with an ice storm from her Wand of Frost, coating the room in blinding sleet. Grum fired off a pair of arrows, and Vetnik watched proudly as Moira deftly glided across the icy stone floor to cut into the Salamanders in retaliation. Both Trisoll and Thom chose to buff their companions from the corridor, bestowing blessings and banging out triumphant rhythms on war drums. Just as Abigail rushed into the room, glass longsword drawn, a Salamander lashed out with its tail, crushing her right shoulder with it. Moira shrugged off another of the Salamander’s spear blows while Abigail was left at the mercy of another Salamander, breaking her left leg. Vetnik slid across the sleet-covered floor, missing the first swing against Moira’s attacker, but as he neared Abigail, he drove his blade into the Salamander’s tail. Two of Grunt’s arcane arrows zipped into the room, colliding into the magma-hot skin of Abigail’s attackers. The mage hunter tried her best to summon the strength to swing her sword, but the pain of her injuries seemed too much to bear.

Vetnik ripped his blade from the Salamander’s tail and reached over and drove it into the Salamander Moira was defending herself against, much to her surprise. Grunt continued to fire off Hank and watched as the pale bolts exploded against the Salamander. In retaliation, Vetnik received a spear to the side, but he shrugged the blow off and continued on. Abigail struggled to get back to her feet but as she inched away from the Salamander, she felt the horrid pain of its heavy tail crash down against her left leg once against. Hearing Abigail’s cries of pain, Moira spun around and slashed at the Salamander but her form proved too loose and she missed. Trisoll called out to Moira, “Do you need me to heal you?”
“No! Abigail needs you!”
Trisoll sighed and begrudgingly rushed in to give Abigail one of his patented (albeit reluctant) healing hugs. The hug was half-hearted though, and only afforded Abigail a sliver of her health. Trisoll quickly retched himself from her, but as he turned to walk away, he saw a plaintive look in her eyes, one that silently asked for some kind of mercy. Thom put aside his drums and drew his longsword and cuts through the Salamander menacing Abigail, poking its lifeless body once with the tip of his blade with a shrug. Lyssa sheathed her Wand of Frost and as she approached Thom and Abigail, she opened her hand and let loose a flurry of magic missiles against the remaining Salamander. In retaliation, the Salamander began to intone a gate spell but before it could finish speaking the portal into existence, Grunt fired off two killing Hank-bolts.

The thieves in the party began to dig through the ice-covered treasures, rifling through cracked and damaged jewels to pocket the few pristine remains beneath. Vetnik and Moira sheathed their blades before he gifted her a potion of healing.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to tend to Abigail,” she said as she carressed Vetnik’s cheek before going. As Moira moved to join Abigail, she watched as Lyssa displayed, sternly, a once-in-a-lifetime show of kindness by gifting her half-sister a potion of healing. Abigail wiped her mouth and the sisters momentarily glared at each other in silence. Lyssa turned around, snapping her cloak as she walked past Moira and joined the thieves in raiding the treasure.

Vetnik was hesitant to load up any more treasure as the Bag of Holding was already weighted with the party’s earlier stash of treasures as well as the metal armor they were forced to conceal upon entering Kellagha. Grum scouted ahead and found another door, acid-trapped and locked, but managed to disarm and even salvage the bladder of acid for his own use. He opened the door to find a room identical to the previous, teeming with jewels and treasures. Vetnik advised the party to anticipate another ambush, and proposed that they trigger the gate by disturbing the treasure. They agree and while Grum scouts the corridor ahead with help of his Ring of Invisibility, Vetnik tossed a broken gem into the pile of treasure. Just as he suspected, as soon as the treasure was disturbed, a portal opened. Three Salamanders emptied into the room to find the archers of the party with their arrows notched, with Lyssa standing in the middle. She opened her palm and released a wave of wild magic that collided against the three demons. Two of the Salamanders watched as wild magic overcame their companion, paralyzing it in place. As the wild magic dissipated, the party watched the energy swirling around the room return to Lyssa, causing her to levitate off the ground against her will. The two Salamanders mobilized against the party, attempting to strike out at Grunt but both missed. Grunt in turn kept them at bay with the help of Hank. Abigail attempted to take up her blade once more but as she swung her blade, the pain of her shoulder proved too persistent. Thom took aim with his longbow and fired off a pair of arrows, both of which found purchase. Vetnik revealed to the party a talent for javelin throwing as he chucked a Javelin of Lightning into the room. As the javelin zipped into the room, its exterior was consumed by crackling energy before becoming a bolt of pure electricity, shooting through one of the Salamanders before disappearing and consuming a second.

Uncontrollably levitating, Lyssa opened her hands and released four magic missiles into the body of the paralyzed Salamander as Thom rushed into the room with his longsword drawn, stabbing into the still-smoking body of one of the Salamanders, felling it. Her eyes blood-shot with frustration, Abigail took up her sword once more and rushed in after and finished the paralyzed Salamander off with two killing slashes, cleaving it from neck to belly, spitting on its bifurcated torso. Lyssa pressed her hands against the roof of the room and directed the others below on which gems to pull for herself, but Thom reminded her that the hoard was a party find and would be split in due time. Once finished pillaging, Grum called out to the party, alerting them of the safety of the rest of the passage. They followed the sound of his boot steps down the still-winding corridor until coming upon an open and very large room. Inside rested a long table in the center surrounded by 13 chairs with large seats, presumably made to fit the legless Salamanders. Grum and Thom scouted the room for any hidden exits; Thom found a door and could hear the sound of slithering behind it. Upon opening it, they were greeted by a pair of Salamanders angered by the assassination of their king. The archers of the party released a flurry of arrows into the demons, attempting to draw them out into the more open room. After firing his first set of arrows, Grum tripped as he attempted to notch back two more arrows. Still fitful, Abigail limped in with blade unsheathed and managed to slay one of the Salamanders. The last Salamander managed to dodge both Thom and Grunt’s second round of arrows. Vetnik and Moira rushed in and together cut into the last Salamander. In return, the Salamander attempted to gate in reinforcements but failed. Grunt gave Hank a rest and jumped into melee using his broadsword, but it was Moira who slayed the last Salamander. The room itself was a large and rectangular decorated with intricate stone reliefs depicting crude Salamander conquests over man, the procession of which lead to an elaborate and large bed.

Taking the exit from the sleeping chamber, they followed the scouts down another corridor. As they progressed, they could feel the warmth inside intensify to the point of oppression. Those clad in armor struggled but pushed ahead. Not accustom to such heat, even the stoic Vetnik seemed shaky in the heat. The corridor lead to the single door, thicker than the others they had encountered. Thom could hear behind it the sound of steam and slow dripping, but could not bear to keep his ear to the door for long, as the thick stone was hot to the touch. They quickly opened it and found inside a room with walls coated in flowing lava that seemed to drip from the walls and coalesce into a large portal in the center of the room. The planar gash swirled with orange radiance, and the air around it seemed to shimmer like the hot air floating off of searing hot iron. Moira sensed no evil from it though, but the magic was potent. Drawn to the power, Lyssa approached and slid through the portal without warning. The twins shrugged and leaped in after, only to find Lyssa crouching on a solitary island of molten rock floating in a plane of endless glowing magma, and soon, all three immediately began to buckle under the weight of the incredible heat radiating from the pool beneath them. They quickly backed out of the portal, emptying into the room they were once in, which now by comparison seemed brisk and tepid. The rest of the party tended to them, their bodies flush and drenched in sweat, as if traversing the deserts for days without water.
“That wasn’t a great idea. Let’s keep moving,” quipped Lyssa, her throat yearning for water. Moira passed around the waterskin as they made their way out of the portal room and backtracked their way out of the dungeon. As they traveled back, small blobs of lava began to pool through the cracks in the stone floor, forming into small impish beings composed wholly of molten rock. The beings turned and hissed at the party, and with steaming breath, emptied out streams of lava from their eyes. Abigail screeched in pain as the lava burned her flesh and coated her wooden armor. As she crumbled to the ground, Trisoll reached out and cast control temperature over the area, cooling the hall down considerably. Through glowing pale eyes, Trisoll watched as the flesh of four of the creatures cooled and blackened before shattering.

Having scavenged what wealth was left undamaged in the room, the party once again readied themselves to move. A short discussion determines that though Searazul lies slain, the pillar containing the soul of the dwarven cleric Duinor still lays undiscovered. Abigail steels herself despite her recent misfortunes and loses herself in thought for a moment while Grum and Grunt resume their position at the front of the party as they begin to retrace their steps. Heading south through Searazul’s throne room, the party is struck by the fact that the King’s corpse is nowhere to be found. Moira, tapping into her knowledge of demonology, explains that even a minor power like Searazul cannot be forever destroyed on the Prime Material Plane and that his essence had no doubt retreated to the Abyss to reconstitute itself. Grum decides to head west at the juncture beyond the demon’s chambers, he and his rapidly improving pupil, Grunt checking for traps and secret doors along the way. A door to the north at the end of the corridor opens to a second such passageway, extending in either direction. The warrior thief spies a door on the opposite wall just twenty feet from their point of egress and heads to it. After Tom places an ear to the door and the lock mechanism is inspected by the rogue of little words, the passage is opened. A short hallway reveals two doors. The closest door is checked first and the bard indicates that he hears a sound reminiscent of liquid. Once entered, the room is revealed to contain a long pool of boiling oil. Across from the pool lays a narrow platform on which a pair of iron golems silently guard an ornate door on the east wall. A rock is tossed into the pool and a number of tentacles snake out of the blistering pool and thrash about, looking in vain for a foe to drag into the scalding pit. After some deliberation Tom assumes gaseous form and floats across the perilous basin. As he reaches the gilded door, the golems spring to life but are unable to stop the bard from passing through a small crack in the door. Behind it he finds a temple to the dwarven god, Moradin. Deciding not to defile the holy shrine, Tom returns to the group with his revelation. The party decides to move on.

The door to the north, though locked and trapped, proves no match for Grum’s fine manipulation of his thieves’ tools and is soon splayed open. Behind it lay a room lined with bookcases, with 3 free standing cases in the center. Upon first gaze, Lyssa darts into the room and begins searching the moldy tomes for anything useful. A number of codexes do indeed prove to be salvageable and imbued with magical power. The bard searches his memory for tales and clues that might prove to identify these enscorcelled pages and is able to piece together the names of several before the party picks up and moves back out into the larger corridor.

Carefully heading west, the party spies a door on the north wall sixty feet down the passage. Making their way to it, they find that the other side of the aperture emits a low hum of some sort while a violet glow creeps out from under the space at the foot of the door. Cautiously, Vetnik opens the door, Moira and Abigail flanking him. The entryway leads to a room that houses a sixty foot high, ten foot diameter crystal that glows with a magical luminescence. A voice issues from the pillar asking if the task is done, if the Salamander King lies dead. The party affirms that it is so and the voice introduces itself as the former dwarven priest, Duinor. Duinor first expresses surprise that both man and elf would endeavor to aid the dwarves before commending their bravery and tenacity. The party members are then told to approach the pillar one by one as the spirit of the crystal bestows gifts upon them. Once the grants are given, Duinor informs the party that Emperor Durgoth must be told of Beoll-Dur’s liberation. He tells them that the tunnels to Bar’doth Kek-Taur will be impassable to them without his help and in that moment, Trisoll clutches at his head in discomfort for a moment before he seems to recover. When the priest of Tritheron speaks next it is not his voice that issues forth. Duinor explains that he has possessed the free spirited cleric until the palace of the great undermountain city is reached. Duinor intones the words of ancient dwarven magic and the party sinks into and becomes one with the stone beneath their feet. After descending a short distance, the party finds itself in a large cavernous chamber. “It is here our journey begins”, explains the spirit wearing the flesh of the party’s dear friend. As the party rests and prepares themselves, Moira asks Duinor about his shock at the idea that man and elf might help the cause of the dwarves and he explains the story of “The Great Betrayal”. It seems that a hundred years ago, the orcish clans allied with the united tribes of giants to extinguish the light of dwarvenkind from Kellagha. The dwarves looked to their allies, mankind and the elves to assist them in repelling this dangerous coalition of foes, and man and elf, jealous of the wealth of their friends under the mountain, turned their backs on the Gore’denach hoping that they would be weakened or destroyed. The dwarven forces suffered devastating losses but prevailed despite their numbers. In the aftermath of that narrow victory, it was decided that all dwarves would return to the mountain, living above ground nevermore. Additionally, Emperor Durgoth ordered that all trade of metals with the surface be immediately and indefinitely suspended. This, Duinor says, is the reason that the party must be taken to an audience with the king. No man or elf has done deed one for the kingdom of the undermountain since this dark time. Moira’s thoughts drift to the Cortoxian acolytes on the surface, watched over by the Geldan exile Abraxos, and how she will communicate their destination to them…

WORK IN PROGRESS…

The party continued deeper into the ruins of Beoll-dur, still going on cryptic warning provided by the fallen metallic dwarf they encountered after finding “Dog Dick” McGirk’s hoard. While investigating, they came upon an old tome that told of the presence of infernal Salamanders that had overtaken Beoll-dur, led by their king Searazul. In an unusual display of leadership, Grunt took charge of scouting for the party and together they meandered through the halls.

They come upon a locked, untrapped door. Grum nods approvingly at his ward’s effortless lock picking. What they find behind is something they were not warned about. Inside, a corridor filled with a pile of armored skeletons rested. Grunt looks up and sees an opening in the roof above and determines that the pile of bodies must have been victims of a death drop trap. Beyond the pit was a narrow staircase descending into a 3rd level, illuminated only by the glow of red-hot magma burning from a large fissure scarring the walls. Thom and Grunt carefully affix a series of pitons to aid the party in getting down the steep and broken staircase. Those in the party wearing heavier armor start to feel encumbered by the severe heat emanating from the fissure.

At the base of the steps is another door. Thom presses his pointed ear against it and hears the sound of combat behind it: weapons crashing against each other accompanied by dry, alien grunts. Moira confirms the presence of demonic entities and readies herself. Grunt, after finding no traps, throws the door open to find two Salamanders engaged in mock combat using quarterstaffs. Abigail engages first, cutting into one of the salamanders with her glass blade. Grunt looses a pair of arcane arrows from “Hank”, one of which strikes. Lyssa stays out of harm’s way and begins to probe the injured Salamander with Mind Scan. Trisoll carefully imparts Resist Fire on Lyssa, Just as she shoos Trisoll away fearing that he might break her concentration, the pair of Salamanders attacks Lyssa. The first comes after her with a spear but Lyssa yanks the weapon from him and tosses it across the room. The second grabs Lyssa with its mighty tail and partially constricts her. Vetnik and Moira jump in to attempt to rescue her, cutting into the demon with glass longswords. Moira cuts through the Salamander’s torso, slaying it and freeing Lyssa from its constricting tail.

“Damnit, Moira! I had it.”
“I’m sure you did. You’re welcome!”

Thom stays to the back of the party, drumming for inspiration as Grum slashes (and misses) with Lyn & Slå. Grunt tries to shoot the second Salamander, but the demon wraps its tail around his foot, throwing his attack off. It lunges at Vetnik but misses. While focused on Vetnik, the Salamander slashed by Grum’s mythic daggers. Vetnik immediately follows with two more strikes of his sword, jamming his blade into the belly of the Salamander, eviscerating it spraying warm, lava-like blood all over. In the rubble, Thom and Lyssa find a rope of climbing and medallion of thought projection respectively.

They continue ahead and come upon a second door. Thom’s keen hearing detects the sound of four individuals behind. Learning from her previous encounter, Lyssa casts armor over herself. Grunt pushes the door open as quietly as possible, allowing the party to get the advantage. Moira is first into battle, using the heat and hatred of evil to help her deliver a debilitating blow to the first Salamander’s tail. Vetnik attacks a second Salamander while Grunt jumps in to support Moira, firing arcane arrows into her target’s tail, destroying it. Grum cuts into Vetnik’s target while his brother continues to drum for inspiration. Abigail jumps in and dogpiles Vetnik’s salamander, slaying it in the process before cutting into a fresh demon. Trisoll stands back and blesses the party while Lyssa takes on the final and hits it with her ghostly radiant Chillblade.

Grunt helps Abigail out by firing an arcane arrow into the Salamander’s right arm, breaking it and causing him to drop his spear. Thom puts his drums away and cuts into the demon while Vetnik moves onto Abigail’s Salamander, rushing it deathly focus. Lyssa follows up with a second attempt to stab with Chillblade but misses. Moira fells the 3rd Salamander, leaving the last one for Grunt and “Hank” to finish off. Vetnik takes one of the wooden spears for his own, while the thieves, Thom, and Lyssa search the corpses. Thom and Grum find two more ropes; Grunt finds a pair of Bracers of Defense which he gives to Lyssa (combined with her Dex grants her AC1); Lyssa finds a strange item, a large heavy digging tool resembling a 10’ long mattock. Thom determines it to be a Mattock of the Titan, which they choose to leave behind.

Grunt leads them south down a long, meandering hallway. A half hour into their walk, they decide to set up camp to heal, re-up on spells and identify the ropes (Thom determines them to be a Rope of Constriction and a Rope of Entanglement.) After resting, they continue to another door. Behind the door, Thom hears strange clanging but not that of battle. Grunt checks for traps and locks, neither of which he detects. They happen upon a solitary Salamander grunt moving equipment around. Lyssa urges them to not kill him so that they can extract information, but the Grum ignores her and plunges Lyn & Slå into him and causing a lightning bolt to burn the creature from the inside out. Vetnik knocks the demon out with the blunt of his sword. Vetnik finds a necklace hanging from its belt and pockets it. Lyssa and Moira pair up to wake the Salamander and Lyssa begins to Mind Scan it, searching for any clues as to what waits for them. She gets a general layout of the 3rd level, but before she can extract more information about Searazul, she is shut out. Vetnik beheads the demon and together the party moves on with a better understanding of the layout of the 3rd level, making their way to Searazul’s throne room. On the way, Thom identifies the necklace found to be a Necklace of Strangulation.

Continuing down the hall, they hear the distinct sound of footsteps following them. Grunt stops, realizing that the Salamanders have tails and therefore would not be the ones to create the sounds. Thom pinpoints the source of the footsteps: “These are our own footsteps echoing back at us.” Trisoll casts Silence 15’ over the party, allowing the party to move quietly.

“Sure, I can cast it, but what will our signal be in case you need to cast?”
Lyssa cocks her head and gives him the finger.
“Got it!”

The party silently continues down a winding series of hallways for about an hour before encountering another door. Thom hears nothing, and gives Grunt the greenlight to open. He does so, revealing an unlit room. Grunt takes his torch and tosses it into the center of the room. As the fire touches the ground, it reveals four inky black Shadows gathered together, all of which rush to attack the party. The first Shadow touches Moira and she feels her strength immediately sapped. A second Shadow attempts to strike Grunt but misses, but he falls prey to a third. Trisoll is the last to be attacked. Vetnik rushes in to defend both his partner and his best friend, splitting his hits between the two attacking Shadows. Grunt tries to fend off the Shadows attacking him but stumbles and falls. Lyssa draws her Wand of Frost and conjures a cone of cold, freezing a pair of the Shadows and destroying them. Abigail follows Vetnik and splits her attacks as well, killing the first but missing with the second. Thom extends his hands and casts burning hands, obliterating the final Shadow. Thom stumbles upon a secret door while the party searches the room for treasure. Grunt detects traps and just barely disarms a deadly acid trap. After disarming, he unlocks the door to reveal a gem and chip stash (12k gp, 16 whole gems, 10 pc jewelry, a Ring of Water Walking, Potion of Fire Resistance, Rod of Negation, a scroll with 4 spells and 3 ivory goat figurines.)

After successfully raiding the chamber, they move on and eventually come upon a large stone gate. Grunt tries to break in but is unsuccessful. Lyssa and Trisoll search their spells while Vetnik tries to pull open the structure. Vetnik asks Moira to help but she worries that she’s still drained from the Shadow attack. Trisoll steps forward and begins to cast stone shape while the couple pry open the doors, and they just barely manage to pry it open and a completely empty room and a corridor. They travel west up the corridor until coming upon another closed door. Grunt opens it up and immediately sees a trio of dazed hobgoblins transfixed by floating, glowing lights. Their presence seems to break the hobgoblins from their trance, and they immediately flee past the party. They choose to ignore the room and instead travel down the other hall, another winding corridor that opens into a double-wide hall ending in a door. His patience worn thin, Vetnik kicks the door down after Thom and Grunt confirm the door’s safety and finds 6 resting Salamanders. The party slays them (with Vetnik breaking the neck of one with his bare hands) and they move onto the throne room of Searazul, where they find him waiting, sitting upon his throne. Before he can react, Lyssa telekinetically yanks King Searazul right off his throne and drags him closer to the party. Grum breaks his left arm with an arcane arrow. He tries to flee, but Lyssa concentrates her telekinesis and binds him to the throne room floor. After several rounds, it is Moira who slays the demonic Salamander King. They find a Brazier of Sleep Smoke and a pair of Gauntlets of Ogre Power.

COMING SOON….

WORK IN PROGRESS…

The party flies and climbs into the canopy of the fallen Geldan Abraxos’s former tribe, the Mi’pa’ke. The kingdom is a series of covered floorless domed nests spread out through the canopy. Trisoll almost falls from the treetops but is caught and steadied by Moira. He reveals to her an uneasiness of heights. A Geldan warrior named Ahriman assists Vetnik getting into the royal court by picking him up and carrying him. The party is brought before the court of Mi’pa’ke, headed by an anthromorphic macaw Geldan named Emperor Alkanost. Thom acts as interpreter for the party. Abraxos urges the emperor and the rest of his court of an invasion from the Sun Elves. The court is wary of Abraxos and the party at first, but hears them out. Despite allowing them an audience, Abraxos is still deemed flightless and is cast out. Vetnik tries to reason with the emperor about the impending threat of the Sun Elves, which Alkanost scoffs at — at first. Alkanost’s royal druid, Nithail, casts some unknown spell while Moira steps up to offer her word in support of Vetnik. Jeramicht confirms her to be truthful, but just as that confirmation comes, the conference is cut short by an explosion in a nearby nest and the party rush out of the court to investigate.

Emperor Alkanost’s royal mage Jeramicht and a few honor guards surround and protect him while the rest of his court and the party is ejected from the emperor’s nest. Outside, the threat of Sun Elves is confirmed by Thom who sees a nearby nest ablaze and about a dozen to two dozen Sun Elves traversing the canopy towards them. He also spies a small cell in the midst of in fighting. Lyssa floats down and casts a chaos shield on herself. Grum draws two daggers and attempts to cut a pair of assassins down, but the Sun Elves prove too agile and dodge both attacks. Trisoll steels himself high in the trees and blesses the entire party. Abigail leaps through the trees and cuts into tow Sun Elves with her glass longsword. Inspired, Moira follows Abigail and cuts off the right arm of an assassin and forcing him to fall to his death; she cuts deep into a second assassin almost slaying him. Lyssa thrusts a concussive lance of disruption into a pair of oncoming assassins.

Off in the distance, a thin, pale elvish figure defends himself against a group of Sun Elves. Drawing his longbow, he disarms an assassin with an arrow into the arm and begins to rush towards the party. Grunt whips out Hank and fires off a pair of energy bolts and blasts a pair. Thom follows up with two arrows of his own and forces another elf out of the canopy. The Sun Elves pursue after the mysterious pale elf, firing arrows after him, but the pale elf dodges the arrows. The also set their sights on the largest of the group, Vetnik, but they just barely miss. Grunt proves just as agile as the assassins and dodges the arrows with ease. Thom is the first hit with arrows, but is fortunate as they barely graze him. Out of the darkness, two more arrows fly and make purchase into Lyssa. Her body seizes up and is overtaken by a paralyzing poison. Her mind still cognizant, she manages to keep up concentration and stay afloat while frozen. The Sun Elves do their best but fail to take down any Geldans; the Geldans retaliate furiously, hacking into their numbers with staves edged with kopesh blades.
Grum manages to snag another Sun Elves and slashes it with his bone dagger as the Geldans continue to zip through the canopy, cutting even more of the assassins down. Vetnik leaps in to attack another Sun Elf but misses, but slips and falls out of the canopy. Just as he begins to plummet to the earth, Ahriman swoops down and grabs him, saving him from falling. Abigail misses both of her attacks. Moira is more successful, cutting into two more assassins. The remaining Sun Elves continue forward, cutting into the mysterious pale ally. Another attempts to stab at Grunt but trips on a tree branch and falls stunned to the ground below (much to Grunt’s amusement.) Thom is blasted by two more arrows flying at maximum speed, while Lyssa, still incapacitated, becomes a hovering shooting target. The first arrow zips by, cutting through her shoulder. The second plants itself into her left leg. Unable to cry out in pain, her eyes tear up as they flare with burning arcane energy. Trisoll sees Lyssa floating helplessly and, summoning up all the courage he can, he leaps off a nearby branch and grabs hold of her. Grabbing on tight, he pulls out the arrow and concentrates on a blessing from Trithereon, which successfully courses through her body as the pair begin to descend slowly. The poison is purged from her body and Trisoll begs Lyssa to keep the both of them floating while he concentrates on a healing prayer. Several yards away, the pale elf blasts two more elves out of the treetops with his arrows. Thom aims his bow, firing into another Sun Elf and fells it. Grunt tries to take down two more assassins but misses.

The pale elf runs towards the party, firing another pair of elves but is struck by an arrow. He stumbles but manages to steady himself and continue fighting. He notices beneath him a sect of elvish sorcerers gathering around the base of the royal tree and watches as they set it ablaze with a series of fireballs. The Sun Elf archers continue to fire at the party. They miss Grum and Lyssa, but Trisoll is wounded by an arrow to the leg. He winces but grits his teeth and continues to pray to Trithereon, wrapping his arms tighter around Lyssa in the process. After almost falling, Vetnik steels himself. He picks up his blade and charges at two more assassins, cutting one of them down. Abigail and Moira continue to slice into the remaining assassins, of which three are visible. Grum follows up, shooting down the one Abigail slashed. Thom takes a pair of shots but doesn’t manage to land his arrows. While Lyssa and Trisoll continue to sink and struggle to stabilize themselves, Trisoll selflessly devotes his critical wound prayer to Lyssa. She looks down and sees the four elvish sorcerers surrounding the base of the royal tree. Her eyes aglow, she hisses and casts fireflow over the flames burning at the base of the tree. She manages to engulf two of them – though thanks to a wild surge, she attacks the two sorcerers she didn’t intend to.

The Geldans continue to fly through the canopy, cutting down the remaining archers. Vetnik cuts into his opponent and after felling it, watches as the pale elf comes into view as he almost slays another Sun Elf with his arrows. Lyssa continues to concentration on her fireflow spell and expands the flames. The sorcerers attempt to flee but all are overwhelmed by the waves of flames. After slaying them, Lyssa immediately extinguishes the fires. Lyssa turns her head around and sees the royal mage Jeramicht swooping down towards her. To her surprise, he addresses her in common, thanking her for putting out the flames. She accepts and asks the mage to carry Trisoll to safety. The trio flies back into the royal nest where Jeramicht heals Trisoll the best he can, closing up his wound. Back from the brink of near unconsciousness, Trisoll prays to Trithereon and heals himself a bit more. Grunt takes aim at one of the last Sun Elves but misses. Grum follows up with an arrow and almost fells it, but the assassin begins to sneak away. Moira charges after it but misses. Thom does his best to support his brother and kills the evading assassin. The remaining Sun Elves quickly unsheathe small vials and begin to down the contents. Three of them disappear from sight while another two dive down from the treetops and into the darkness below, floating as if effected by feather fall – but are unfortunately caught and torn to shreds by Geldan soldiers.

Other soliders swarm the pale elf but he immediately throws his hands up. In Geldan, he calls out to them. Vetnik steps in to protect them. They look at him curiously, thinking him a Moon elf, but he confesses to them that he is an albino Sun Elf. He also confesses that he has allied himself against the Sun Elves due to the love he has for a Geldan. Disgusted, the Geldan escorts the pale Sun Elf and the others back to court. Perched on his throne made of collected refuse, Alkanost addresses the Sun Elf in his native Jen’Ma’Karian tongue – much to the surprise of the party. The pale elf informs Alkanost that he is called Morgrave and that since boyhood, has not agreed with the stance taken by his people against the Geldan. As he came into manhood, he fell for a Geldan, a crow woman, and while the affection was not returned, it did little to dissuade him in his support of the Geldan. Alkanost buys the elf’s sincerity and he shows mercy on Morgrave. Thom translates to the others. For his duty to his kingdom, Alkanost awards Morgrave with an honorary title and sanctuary in Mi’pa’ke (much to the chagrin of Ahriman.)

Vetnik interjects and reminds Alkanost of why they have come to Kellagha. Lyssa relays Dablova’s vision to the audience of Geldan about the united armies of Sun and Moon elves under the banner of the Black Rider, which seems to shock the court. Alkanost even acknowledges a knowing of the Black Rider. Nithail confirms the tale told to be true. Alkanost informs the party of the Black Rider’s troops movements towards as he has had spies scoping out Morgoth. Emperor Alkanost excuses himself while Nithail gives the party a map of the northern ice lands. The Geldan flies those in the party back down to the ground (Ahriman makes a special effort to avoid flying Morgrave down and instead carries Abigail down instead.) Without a tribe to return to, Trisoll urges Morgrave to come with them and assist them on their quest to find the leader of the Circle of Bones.

The party decides to continue onwards towards the hoard before heading to Vaernyn. Moira and Thom inform Morgrave of the history of her brother and their reasons for coming to Kellagha. On the ride, Lyssa asks Morgrave more about his history, but is hesitant to reveal anything other than what he’s already admitted in court. In attempting to read his mind, Lyssa surges once more and inadvertently heals the party as a whole. She plays it off as a show of good faith though, and though Morgrave thanks her, he does let the party know that he will share more when he is ready.

On their guard shift, Moira confides in Vetnik that she thinks highly of Morgrave despite Abigail’s vocal distrust and knows him to be good intentioned. Eavesdropping, Morgrave lets them know that he would be more comfortable with a democratic vote keeping him in the party. The warriors agree to the vote, saying they will hold it in the morning (but that he has both their votes.)

While camping, Trisoll and Lyssa bond over the previous battle and how much they miss Greyhawk. At Lyssa’s urging, Trisoll confronts Abigail, waking her from her sleep, and continues to question Abigail as to why she specifically wanted to bed him. Their heated discussion wakes the others and with mounted pressure, Abigail reveals that she chose Trisoll because she knew he had affection towards her and thought him an easy means of bearing a child to be parented between her and her lover, Maja.

On the way to the hoard, the party ends up riding through foggy flatlands. Amidst the fog, they encounter a pair of wights. Trisoll successfully turns them and they retreat into a nearby cavern. Carrying out her holy duty, Moira charges after them and the others follow. They slay the pair, but another wight appears but is dealt with quickly.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

While picking the gems out of the muck, Abigail pulls out two of her stones of communication and speaks into them.

“Thank Paladine!” she exclaims, “I love you.”

Abi finds out that Maja’s sight has been fully restored and that she is safe. In addition, the Royal house of Borman has offered a regiment of men one thousand strong to assist in the bringing of Malia Dane to justice. Apparently, the Galdeen family had owed Maja a debt it now intends to repay.

Lyssa reveals to Abigail and the party her vision: Abigail and Maja together on the front lines against an unseen enemy on a battlefield of black ice. Abi tells them of the northern lands of Morgoth. Abigail agrees to send scouts to Morgoth, but warns that if Lyssa’s vision is false, she will strike back. Lyssa warns Abigail that if she puts any of her companions in danger, she’ll reprimand her with all of her magic.

They continue to ride to Varnyn and stop in a small hamlet called Swampstaff. At the local tavern, they stop what appears to be a theft of food in progress. The truth is revealed to be much stranger: the food was for a living dog that was where his penis should have been. Lyssa, Vetnik and Trisoll find out after chasing after the man that the man, nicknamed Dog Dick McGirk, was once an adventurer who, but had been put into retirement 7 years prior after his entire party was slaughtered by an evil warlock, was cursed as a sick reminder by having his penis replaced by a living dog. He pleads with the party to save him from his miserable situation. Lyssa calms the dog and steals some if its fur (for investigation on the curse and possible later use) while Trisoll prays to Trithereon to remove the curse. He’s successful and returns the aged hero to his former glory. As a reward, he gives Trisoll a key and the directions to his hoard that he abandoned after losing his last quest.

While the three of them dealt with the strange case of Dog Dick McGirk, a traveling performing troupe stopped at the tavern. One of the performers in particular, an acrobat, takes a fancy to Grum and the pair hit it off, trading drinks and thinly veiled innuendos. The rest of the party packs up and hits the road while Grum lets them know he’ll catch up while he enjoys an evening with the acrobat.

Grum returns to the group after his interlude and finds the party mostly asleep, save for his brother. While they take watch, a brutalized Geldan (bird-man) falls from the forest canopy above, its winged arms broken and hacked. It pleads for healing (via Thom’s comprehend languages) and Trisoll abide, after Moira checks it out for its lack of evil. He reveals himself as Abraxos and tells the party via Thom that he was attacked by assassins from the Jen’mar’ka (sun elves). Abigail informs them that the Geldan and Jen’mar’ka have been war for millennia, both claiming to have been the first race of Kellagha. The party puts it to a vote and they agree to help bring Abraxos back to its nest, knowing that the Jen’mar’ka were a part of the army being raised by the mysterious Black Rider from Dablova’s vision. Together with the help of fly spells, ointments, and agile climbing, they journey under the cover of night to return Abraxos to his nest and to stop the Jen’mar’ka assassins.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

“Our numbers only seem to be growing.”
“The arrival of our ‘fine and esteemed’ friends was not as observed as ours. Perhaps we go back to where you’re staying?”

“I have many loyal men. One of them, Forgus, is not too far away and he’s beyond suspicion,” Captain Borgellis suggested.
Moira nodded in confidence. “Then so be it. Show us the way!”
“I can take those of you who’ve been at court without arousing suspicion, but the rest of you,” Captain Borgellis paused as drunks began to wobble down the alleyway. Lowering his voice and leaning in, he continued, “Come in small groups. Tail us, but stick to the shadows, and no more than a pair at a time!”
With that, Captain Borgellis quickly lead the warriors of the party out of the slums and back towards more civilized parts of Garamondia, where they removed their hoods and played the role of tour guide and tourists. En route, Captain Borgellis showed off what his fine sovereign had established in his own name. Finely carved – if not just a bit garishly ornate – shields bearing Garamond’s coat of arms and monogrammed bricks lead up to the center of the city where the Baron’s estate stood, and off beside it, Garamond Gardens, which kept the Baron’s court suspended in a haze of fragrant ignorance to the rotting tenements that made up the outskirts of his barony. As the warriors wandered off towards Borgellis’ rendezvous point, the Black Brothers (and Grunt) followed yards behind, while Lyssa and Trisoll kept a safe vantage point following them.

Borgellis concluded the warriors’ tour at a small but well-maintained complex in a well-lit neighborhood that sat directly in between the gardens and the slums. The complex featured duplexs in block-long chunks, much in the same manner as Greyhawk (though more humble, and with much less in the way of metal finishings.) As the evening had drawn both moons out and higher into the air, only a few apartments kept their lights on. Borgellis blithely led the warriors to a larger apartment on the lower level, where he heartily knocked on the front door while continuing his spiel about the rapidly developing neighborhood they were currently in.

Large bald mustachioed man (presumably Forgus) leads them into a basement-level chamber. He waits upstairs while the others hatch their plot.

Trisoll opens up to Lyssa about his evening with Abigail, much to her discomfort. She writes it off, citing that he had been treated much in the same manner as he has treated women in the past.

Under the floor of Forgus’ home, the party reveals what happened at the garrison with the dragon as well as the details of their relationship as a traveling party.

Captain Borgellis turned his attention to Moira. “I saw it in your face, at dinner. Your expression told me everything. The principles you have for those in pain, for those under foot. Usually when Baron Garamond shows his favor, even the most iron-hearted knights and wary nobles give under the weight of his flattery. Not you though. This city’s pain was your pain at the feast, and though I could tell you and your friends were doing the best to put on a front, I knew. He has bled this city dry, and it’s time for his reign to come to an end. Please, help us!”

Borgellis reveals a map of the Baron’s elaborate estate. He and Vetnik begin to go over the layout of the estate and the roster of guards. He ensures Vetnik and company that he can have at least 13 men inside, but the rest are Garamond loyalists, whether due to selfishness or obligation. Vetnik proposes that one or more of the loyalists be taken out, whether for the night or off duty more permanently, but Borgellis insists that despite their allegiance, they are still under his command and he wouldn’t have them harmed unless necessary. Thom proposes to hire one of them to act as a guard. Borgellis agrees to allow one of them on the inside to shadow but urges that none can leave without arousing suspicion. Vetnik volunteers under the cover of diplomacy, observing foreign defense tactics.

While the men did their best to figure out a way to infiltrate the estate via the city guard, Lyssa spoke up from the shadowy edges of the basement war room. “Garamond, what are his vices?”
“Vices? His virtues number far less. Food, drink, hunting, gaming, you name it he’s dabbled in it!”
“What about women,” Lyssa asked Borgellis, sauntering out of the shadows and slowly pacing around the table.
“We have women, we have food and drink,” Thom offered.
Borgellis paused and looked down with a soured expression, shaking his head. “It repulses me to even say it out loud, but—“
“Speak it,” Lyssa commanded.
“He fancies… younger—“
“How young,” Lyssa continued to interrogate, wasting no time for dramatic pauses.
“I don’t want to hear this,” Vetnik cried out with a look of disgust at both Lyssa and Borgellis.
“I do! How young?”
Borgellis sighed and took a step away from the table. He lifted his hand off the table and brought it to his side. With another sigh he began to lower it down the length of his torso, stopping just below his hip. Lyssa and the others kept their eyes on him while Vetnik shook his head and groaned, made uneasy by the details. “Too young,” Borgellis hissed!
“So he doesn’t like women at all,” Thom noted.

Lyssa stopped just beside Trisoll, who nervously turned back to see Lyssa looming over him. “Trisoll, be a dear?”
Trisoll furrowed his brow, turning his face to meet Lyssa’s. With a slight lump in his throat, he replied, “um, sure.”

Without further warning, Lyssa placed the palm of her hand firmly against Trisoll’s chest. Staring out at the others, her eyes flared briefly with magical energy before that same scarlet energy suddenly began to crackle around her open hand, flickering before disappearing into the unsuspecting cleric’s torso. She stepped forward and released his chest from her grasp, and the party watched as Trisoll began to wince and jerk as the sparks of arcane energy seeped and disappeared into his body. Trisoll cupped his hand across his mouth, muffling a slight cough, but soon the coughing grew more and more intense. Trisoll ripped his hand away from his mouth and the party watched as dense plumes of opaque, crimson smoke poured out from his mouth and nostrils. Trisoll stood frozen and helpless as the smoke quickly swirled around the entirety of his body as the mage stepped forward, glancing at her work in motion. Soon his entire form was engulfed in it. The party watched in astonishment as he vanished from sight, replaced by a pillar of undulating smoke. Just as fast as the smoke had swallowed him, the Trisoll-sized plume shrunk down to a smaller height and thinner width. Lyssa waved her hand and summoned the crimson smoke into the palm of her hand, where it swirled and vanished in a tiny spark of energy. With the smoke cleared, a foreign body stood in place of the priest. It was that of a small girl, fair-featured and trembling with confusion. Her hair was long and chestnut brown and her face faintly smattered with ginger-colored freckles. Jade green eyes bulged from behind lineless lids, searching the room, pleading for clarity.

“Bloody brilliant,” Thom exclaimed, gawking at the adolescent girl standing before him!
“What the fuck are you doing,” Vetnik cried out, bracing himself in case he would need to handle Lyssa.
“You want to get through to a man like the Baron? You get him through what he lusts for most.”

Trisoll stands around, trying his best not to freak out. Letting Lyssa’s plan sink in, Thom polymorphs himself into a similarly aged young girl. This puts Trisoll at ease, and together they hatch a plan.

“Why me, Lyssa?”
“Because, you’re the only one of us with the ability to keep him quiet. When you silence him, Thom will then… silence him for good.”

The party waits until the following morning to begin picking daisies in the royal gardens. Abigail takes watch over the gardens atop a nearby complex, while the
“You do remember how to skip, don’t you,” Thom goads Trisoll, putting flowers in his companion’s wavy brown tresses. It takes mere minutes before the pair is approached by a tall, wiry man, whose oily features glisten in the early afternoon sun. He tells them the Baron wants a word with them, and the pair follows without hesitation (well, almost.)

Lyssa, placed under an invisibility spell by Thom prior to his own transformation, stakes out the Baron’s estate in anticipation for the girls’ arrival. Abigail darts from one rooftop to another with a better view of the Baron’s bedchamber. There, she signals to Grum and Grunt to take posts nearby should they be needed. Moira stays posted in the baron’s court inside the castle, keeping an open ear and watchful eye for any sign of struggle or danger while touring the grounds. Vetnik takes his post as shadow to one of Borgellis’ men, a guard named Threnn. There the pair makes soldier’s small talk, that is, until Peckish returns with two young girls in tow, leading them up to the Baron’s chambers. Vetnik notices that while most of the men turn a blind eye and do their best to hide their displeasure, Threnn is visibly more upset.

“What’s going on here?” Vetnik asked, watching as Peckish led the pair of young girls up the stairs to his floor.
“It’s really none of your business,” Threnn said with a stony tone.
Vetnik leaned in closer, keeping an eye out for other guards. “Come now.”
As another guard passed out of sight, Threnn’s stoic front began to come down. Biting his lip, he began to reveal, “The Baron has tastes that I find quite offensive,”
“If his tastes are what I think they are, then I’m glad you find them disagreeable.”
“Best to keep it to yourself, lad. Other men around here have big ears, bigger mouths and hungry pockets.” Threnn quickly huffed and puffed out his chest again. Just as quickly, the guard raised his wall back up before doing his round of the floor, leaving Vetnik’s side. Another guard silently took post next to Vetnik and the pair watched as the two girls were hurried down the hall to another set of stairs leading up to the bedchamber. Vetnik’s eyes met theirs and two differing glances were returned. “Traesie” smiled at Vetnik, winking an eye before returning her attention to the path before her; dragging behind her companion, “Trissie” looked up at Vetnik and continued to linger, her expression pained and uneasy.

Trissie and Traesie are escorted to the Baron’s estate by a homely servant named Peckish. He trades the “girls” off for payment and leaves them in the grubby clutches of Baron Garamond. Working as fast as he can to beat the finish of his polymorph self spell, Traesie is quick to tease and pursue the Baron, luring him into a state of calm before striking. Whilst Treasie sits upon the Baron’s uncovered knee, Trissie hurriedly casts silence over the bedchamber, not wanting to waste anymore time than needed. Taking the cue, Treasie lashes out at the Baron with his longsword-turned-daisy but stumbles off his lap. Confused, the Baron stands and immediately realizes he’s been silenced when trying to scold the girl.

Stumbling over the fumbled young assassin, Baron leaped up and rushed towards the chamber door mouthing cries for help. Trissie knew action had to be taken. As fast as her spindly little legs could carry her, she dove into the back of the Baron’s legs, sending him crashing to the ground. Like some strange, mimed battle scene, Trissie grappled the Baron and bound him by the legs between her thin, pale arms. The Baron flailed and hollered for help, but sound was absent with every cry and kick against the wooden floor. Trissie did her best but struggled to keep the portly Baron to the floor, but the overall physical repulsiveness did little to help in her efforts. The coarse yet sweaty of his leg bristled against her smooth cheek and tickled her nose. Using his weight against Trissie, the Baron began to roll himself on his back in an attempt to pin the child and escape. Just as Garamond spread himself open, Traesie took up her daisy once more and with an expert flick of her wrist, sent the flower straight through his putrid and pathetic nob. A geyser of the Baron’s blood began to spurt out, splashing across the floor and, more unfortunately, into Trissie’s hair. The Baron cupped himself but it did little to stop the torrent of blood from squirting between the spaces of his grubby digits. He attempted to lift himself off the ground and crawl towards the door, but the slick of blood beneath him only caused him to slip back down against the wooden floor. With haste, Trissie squirmed her way from out under the Baron and stood back, watching as Traesie slowly ripped the daisy from out of his now-mangled cock. Garamond continued to mime howls of excruciating pain, thrashing more wildly than before, as if made even more terrified by the silence. Outside his chamber he could hear the clicking of bootsteps, the changing of the guard. With one hand, he reached up to Treasie, who loomed over him, his fate now in the hands of what appeared to be his fondest indulgence. Even in those last moments, Garamond couldn’t help but do his best to sate his most base desires. As Traesie kneeled over him, aiming the stem of her daisy mere inches away from his face, the Baron, with one hand still clasped to his gored crotch, stretched out his other. He placed his shivering, bloody hand upon Traesie’s undeveloped chest and tugged at her dress, bearing and gritting his stained teeth as he did so. By reflex, Traesie snatched her flower back and plunged the stem of her daisy into his heaving breast. Treasie watched as Garamond’s face relaxed and slid into deathly placidness. The tension of his neck disappeared as the back of his head slumped to the floor, and small streams of blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, down his chins and into the folds of his neck.

With the Baron slain, Trissie and Traesie, both adorned in blood-covered dresses, look to each other for what to do next. Treasie motions to Trissie to stay by the body while she scopes out the front. As she cracks the door open, an unseen force pushes her back into the room. The door quickly shuts and the pair of girls look around, wondering what force has entered. Trissie drops silence over the room and whispers “who’s here?” Without warning, they feel something grab their shoulders and they’re immediately swept up in a wave of arcane energy, immediately teleported back to the inn.

After a short time, Borgellis goes to check on the Baron. Upon entering, he sees the ghastly murder scene. He takes up the Baron’s coronet, splashes some blood upon his sword, and returns. He gives a rousing speech to the men in his charge, informing them that he has slain the baron and ended his debauched and cruel reign. He tosses the bloodied coronet down the steps as his men erupt in cries of support, while Garamond’s loyalists remain hushed and reserved. Vetnik sighs relief, the perverse plan successfully realized, and after Borgellis’ speech, meets with the Guard Captain. He thanks Vetnik and tells him that while he can’t offer coin in reward, he will give him the service of his men should Vetnik need them.

he rushes back to meet with Moira and together they hurry back to the inn. Traesie returns to

“Though I did not agree with this approach, I cannot argue with its effectiveness. Who dealt the fatal blow?”
“The people of this city,” Thom replied with a bit of a wink.
“No, but who really put an end to him. It couldn’t have been Trisoll!”
“Well, I was the one who had the stomach enough to get close to him, but Trisoll’s role was integral as well.”
“Let me shake your hand then, Thom.”
“Of course.”
“A man like that is the worse kind of scum. I thank you for putting him under the sword.”
“Oh yes! Well, he was fully aware of his fate. We made it quick but not painless.”

Trisoll pleads with Lyssa at first to dispel the magic keeping him trapped in the body of a small girl. The twins poke fun, championing the possibilities of having a child decoy in their party who can also cast prayers. Trisoll then pleads with his fellow party members to convince Lyssa to drop the polymorph spell. Lyssa is resistant at first, coldly enjoying her handy work. Vetnik steps in and asks Lyssa himself.
“Please, Lyssa. Give Trisoll back his form?”
“Fine, because you asked.”
Lyssa waves her hand and the childlike form of Trissie evaporates into red smoke that coils into Lyssa’s palm, revealing the unbloodied and adult Trisoll. He grabs at his own crotch and after confirming his maleness, sighs a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Lyssa. Next time though, a little warning.”
“Let this week serve to remind you that girls aren’t playthings.”
“Point taken.”
Turning to Abigail, Lyssa fires a barb. “And speaking of lessons learned, perhaps this week could serve as lesson to you to, eh, Abigail?”
Taken aback by her tone, she turns to Lyssa. “Excuse me?”

The pair spar back and forth, with Lyssa calling out Abigail for possibly treacherous behavior and manipulation of Trisoll, much to the rest of the party’s surprise. After a few more barbs traded, and after Trisoll comes clean about their encounter, Abigail and Lyssa go in for a low blows:

“I can’t help it that no one wants to bed you!”
“At least I have two eyes! Can’t say the same for dear ol’ Maja, can we?”
“BITCH!” Abigail growls before bringing the back of her hand across Lyssa’s face. Lyssa buckles to the ground. Turning to the mage hunter with flaring red eyes, she extends her hand and the party watches as energy gathers in her hand before disappearing in a flashing spark of energy. Lyssa looks surprised, knowing her telekinetic spell has surged. Abigail storms out, leaving the rest of the party to discuss the current situation.

Vetnik clams up, upset by Trisoll’s unwillingness to discuss what happened with him first.

As the party retires for the evening in the rundown inn, Vetnik and Moira discuss what happened. She’s able to work through his icy façade and reasons that he feels slighted that Trisoll didn’t open up to him first. She reasons that Trisoll was probably scared of what he might think and that him not saying anything wasn’t a reflection on him directly, but she does urge Vetnik to open up more and be willing to understand that despite this, the two of them are still friends.

Lyssa visits Thom before retiring for the evening, and stumbles upon him writing a new song for the festivities in the morning. She opens up to him about her reasons for distrusting Abigail. She wonders why the warriors are so trusting of Abigail. She cites her own lineage as reason enough to distrust her, knowing that both of them having questionable moral and mental stability in their blood. Thom reasons that they’re impressed by her deeds of valor and the warrior’s ideology, which she has displayed.
“It isn’t that I particularly like Trisoll. I think he’s a pig, but he’s our pig. When he told me what happened, I felt strangely protective of him, even though he’s a dolt.”
Thom ends their conversation with “it’s not our blood that defines us, it’s our actions.”
“Fair enough. I’m going to get her back though,” Lyssa warns, rubbing her jaw.
“I’ll give you a hand if you need it.”

In the morning, the party wakes up well rested despite their humble arrangements. Before departing for the festivities, Lyssa consults the Eye of Modius. Her first vision is that of Abigail, who has rejoined the party after a short absence. They stand together on a battlefield of black ice. At Abigail’s side is her druid lover, Maja, with both eyes intact.

Borgellis has his color guard meet the party and guides them to the city square. The party sees that the partitions that kept the slums from the city’s more affluent center are already coming down and any trace of Garmond already lays in ruin. The townsfolk, poor and well-to-do alike, gather together to celebrate the rechristening of Garamondia as the new city of Freeland. Thom darts through the crowds, banging his drums and singing his latest song “Trissie and Traesie and The Baron’s Daisy”. Carts carrying casks of wine and ale are broken open while food from the baron’s pantry is freely distributed to all. Inoehie the Gnome acolyte stays behind to help establish Celestian’s worship in Freeland. Vetnik and Moira are both awarded the best wooden splint mail armor they can provide, free of charge. (AC 3). Trisoll watches as Peckish is led, bound and masked, to the gallows where he’s hung before an angry crowd. He winces but a strange sense of satisfaction rumbles just beneath his peace-and-love surface. As an aside, Thom finds out that there are nearby territories that are rumored to be occupied by nothing but werebeasts and roam freely due to the lack of silver in Kellagha. They get three more packhorses and stock up on supplies before heading back onto the road to Vearnen.

Three days into their trip, they enter a marsh at dusk where they encounter 15 Muckdwellers, who ambush them. The horde squirts jets of muddy water at the Black Brothers and Trisoll. Grum is temporarily blinded by the ambush, while Grunt and Abigail are bitten by the small, slimy annoyances. As Lyssa goes to spray a trio of Muckdwellers with her burning hands, a surge of telekinetic energy explodes from her hand before it bursts into jets of flames. She hears Abigail cry out and turns to see the mage hunter ripped from her horse and thrown into the mire below. The Muckdwellers rush to attack as Abigail rushes to her feet. Grunt whips out Hank and zaps two magical arrows into a pair of Muckdwellers, killing them. Moira hacks and slays two more Muckdwellers. Vetnik charges and cuts down one more Muckdwellers. Grum wipes the water from his eyes and fires two arrows into two more Muckdwellers just as his brother engulfs another pair with flames from his burning hands. Trisoll attempts to whack at a Muckdweller with his shillelagh, but misses. Thom draws his longsword but misses. The Muckdweller’s attack Grunt, biting into him with their small, pointed teeth. Vetnik yanks at the reigns of Clevene’ and cuts down two more Muckdwellers. Drawing her glass blade, Abigail attempts to strike but misses. Trisoll tries to hit at his target but the Muckdweller proves more nimble than he. Moira slays two more Muckdwellers, with Grum felling the last one with a pair of arrows. Thom dismounts, searches the grounds and happens upon a nearby lair filled with shiny things (type Q treasure.)

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Abigail reveals her last name (Greenray) is an anagram for her real last name, Ygranere. It’s discovered that she is Lyssa’s half sister, and a fellow child of Modius. The party decides not to share this revelation with Abigail.

The party head to Varnyn following the trail of the head of the Circle of Bones, Malia Dane. On the way, the group sets up camp overnight. Abigail seduces Trisoll on their watch, where she (without his permission) finishes him off and takes his seed into her, leaving Trisoll feeling confused.

Back on the road, the party comes upon an outpost being attacked by a red dragon. Using his Arrow of Dragon Slaying, Grum manages to take the dragon down with a single shot. The party is led to the nearby town of Garamondia as guests of honor of the town’s affable patriarch, Baron Garamond. Once in Garamondia, the party is disgusted by the conditions in which most of the populace live — hungry, filthy, and impoverished. A stark contrast to the Baron and his court, who are well-fed and wealthy.

The Baron offered the warriors of the party the finest dinner in his entire barony while the rest of the party, disgusted by the disparity of wealth, seek out an inn to rest at. As Moira leaves the feast, a guard passes her a note, which she tucks between her breasts. The remaining members of the party went through town surveying the destitution (they watched as a man scrubbed off “GARAMOND IS A WHORESON” a wall, his severed hand freshly bandaged and still moist with blood.) They come upon a hole in the wall inn and set up for the night, while the warriors remain as guests of the castle.

“This is repugnant. Deplorable,” Lyssa remarked as she peered out from the window looking down upon the shambling townsfolk. “Remind me why we didn’t just let that dragon raze this squalid hole of a city to the ground?”
“Looks to me like the people had little to do with the way things are done here. Seems like the Baron’s let this place go,” Trisoll replied. “He’s obviously the cause of much of this misery.”
“What’s a better fate: a quick death by dragon fire or a slow agonizing one under the boot of that fat, velvet-covered piece of shit?”
“Unfortunately, Lyssa,” Thom began to interject, “this isn’t the exception, it’s the norm. Most lands aren’t as liberal as Greyhawk.”
“I know,” Lyssa snarled back, backing away from the window and cozying up to a nearby fireplace (or what qualified as one in such a humble setting.) “I’m well versed in the customs of serfdom. Doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.”
“This does seem to be a bit heavy-handed and under balanced. Doesn’t mean we can’t do something nice for these people; maybe even offer a little payback? Perhaps while we’re here we can help set things right?”
Lyssa perked up at Thom’s proposal. She turned to him and saw that familiar mischievous smirk cross his face. Grum casually cleaned his nail beds with the tip of his dagger, nodding in support. Uneasiness crossed Trisoll’s face for a moment, as his eyes bounced from one party member to another, unsure of how this plan might unfold.
“Now, I’m not saying we can do both: find Kr’zzt and rule over a town, making new laws and such. Doesn’t mean we can’t root out some unsavory elements though! What do you have in mind?”
“I’m sure the Baron’s assets aren’t inaccessible. What is he without his money and his people to fund him?”
“Hm. Let’s go for a walk, perhaps we can find some cracks we can slip into.”

Back at the castle, Vetnik laid still in the oversized down-stuffed bed, covering himself in the woven quilts and furs of the barony. Despite his own nobile upbringings, his kingdom and the kingdoms he had visited across the barbarian empires paled in their ornateness. Even Greyhawk’s finest brothels felt considerably less ostentatious. The bedding was a stark contrast to his companions back at the inn, which consisted of little more than straw and feathers bound in soiled cotton on a warped wooden base. There, he waited on his back, almost uncomfortable by the decadence, for his lady to return to their shared chamber. Moira entered, quietly slipping in and quickly pushing and locking the door shut before rushing to their bed. As Vetnik sat up, Moira began to unfurl a small crumbled scrap of paper before him.

“What is it,” he asked.
“This was given to me by one of the guardsmen,” she replied, sitting beside him. The pair glanced down at the note, signed for by the Guard Captain himself, Pardron Borgellis.

“Garamond is corrupt. He needs to go.
Will you help?
Meet me at midnight in the slum.
Wear disguises.
- Pardron Borgellis”

“The Guard Captain?” Vetnik asked, his tone somewhere between wariness and composed. Moira crumbled up the note and placed it back between her breasts, nodding in confirmation as she did so. “We should fetch Abigail then. It’s almost time.”

As midnight neared, both halves of the party moved about the alleys of Garamondia. The streets and walkways leading up to the palace were a study in cleanliness compared to the dank, muck-crusted alleys that veined through the outer slums. No doubt the Baron had commissioned the paths he had to take to be spotless (or else!) The alleys in the slum were mostly unlit, the only light coming from the swill and whore houses that made up most of the evening business. Even the street lanterns here were spaced further apart, and even fewer had been lit. Hacking coughs and infant cries echoed in the night, while the dark silhouettes of suffering bodies writhed against the shadows, reaching out on occasion to tug at a cloak and beg for food or coin. Lyssa and Thom discussed strategy, with both thieves at the forefront and their cleric trailing closely behind, glancing sympathetically at those who crawled and teemed in the alleys in search of comfort.

“What sorts of poisons do you have,” Thom asked Lyssa.
“Belladonna, but only a couple shots.”
“Hmm. Perhaps I could pose as a performer, get close enough to the Baron and spike his wine?”
“Is he better off dead or under our control? I’ve got a domination spell that could set him right.”
“Sure, but do we want to make him a figure to revere or take him out of the picture? While I’m all for having a pocket baron, any charm spell won’t hold forever unless you plan on staying.”
As Lyssa continued to mull over her options, she noticed a trio of cloaked forms ducking into a nearby alley. While one of the figures was of average build, the other two had a larger presence to them, a broadness that seemed too poised to be wallowing in the slums at midnight. Lyssa kept her eyes on the trio and watched as they moved further into the alley. There was something familiar about the walk of the largest figure. Despite its hulking build, it moved lightly and considerately, looking behind and ahead before letting the other two figures move forward. It turned its head just slightly ‘round to check the alley before continuing deeper into the slum. It was then that Lyssa got confirmation.
“I’d know his big, lumbering form anywhere,” she remarked to herself, watching the figures disappear down another alley. Thom paused and turned to Lyssa. She nodded her head down in the direction of the alley where the figures disappeared. Thom subtly motioned to the others to follow him and together they sneaked off after them.

In mere moments, the Black Brothers were on their companions’ bootheels, with Lyssa and Trisoll sauntering up behind. “The plot thickens, eh?” Thom asked them aloud from behind. The trio whipped around, keeping their heads low until seeing the familiar faces of the rest of the party.
“Indeed,” a woman’s voice replied. Turning her hooded head to Thom, he could see the lips of their newest companion, concealed in the shadow of a large hood. The other two figures turned to greet Thom and the others. The pair quickly checked the alley for any other bodies before getting closer. Together they stayed silent and watched over the alley as Abigail continued.
“Moira received a note from the Guard Captain himself, requesting an audience with her tonight.”
“Do you all need back up,” Thom began to ask, “or are we better as shadows?”
“Better to stay close but not too close,” Moira replied softly. “We don’t know much about this Captain Borgellis yet. We first need to see if his motives are as benevolent as I hope them to be.”

Another figure appeared in the alley, cloaked just as the other warriors were. His face covered in a tightly-groomed beard with a red tattooed pattern decorating his cheek. The marking and grooming were familiar sights to Moira, who was first to approach the cloaked man.

“Captain?”
“Yes! Good of you to come, but I was not expecting you to be in such dense company.”
Thom stepped forward, bowing a bit while tugging down at the brim of his hood as if to tip his hat.
“Ho, captain! We are merely wandering merchants and performers, my companions and I. We met these fine warriors on the road to Garamondia. Watched them fell a red dragon we did!”
Borgellis’ turned his head up, inspecting Thom and the others with a narrowed glare. He soon turned that glare to Moira, who glanced back at him before turning to Vetnik.
“They were fine company to have on the road. We can assure you, they are good men, and just,” Vetnik proclaimed while tipping his hood back at Thom.

Captain Borgellis’ gaze relaxed as Thom finished his formal introduction. “Then I’m sure you’ve already seen the depths of poverty my people wallow in.”
“Clearly,” Vetnik chimed in.
“My other men, the ones from the garrison, they confirm that you slayed a dragon with a single arrow. It was a sign from the gods. My people’s desperate cries have been answered. You are their hope! What the Baron has taken from them must be returned to them.”
“Which is?”
“Everything. The food, the production—“
“What do you suggest?”
“Not all the men are loyal to him. Many of their families live in these slums.”
“If we get rid of him, who will ensure that a greater despot doesn’t take his place?”
“In my mother and father’s day, these slums were once places of trade, of proud artisans and makers. Since birth, I have only known these outskirts as they are, and they have only continued to plunge deeper into decay as I’ve grown older, as Garamond continues to gouge the remaining bits of hope from here. If you help us unseat Garamond, I will see to it myself that resources and wealth are redistributed. Evenly, fairly, as my forefathers intended.”

WORK IN PROGRESS…

After defending themselves against the slow-crawling danger of a grey ooze, the company from Greyhawk continue their journey through the underground passages beneath the abandoned village of Melgas.

They come upon a room locked by yet another stone door barred by one yet another complex lock. It’s a lock so complex that it proves to be too intricate for both of the party’s thieves (Grum and Grunt) to disarm.

“Do you have something like a knock spell memorized,” Grum asked his brother.
Thom sighed and shrugged his shoulder. “Lyssa, how about you?”

Lyssa rifled through her spellbook and thumbed quickly back and forth between the pages, muttering under her breath about the unstable torchlight. As she struggled to find an appropriate spell and the others gathered behind her, Abigail approached the door. A soft metal tick echoed gently through the chamber followed by the creek of the hinges of the stone door moving open.

“Now, is that what you were trying to do,” Abigail asked, looking back at Lyssa smugly.
Lyssa clapped her book shut and fired back, “I reserve my power for less vulgar displays…”
“Hmph. That took no display of power.”
“Thank you!” Vetnik interjected, looking to diffuse the catty banter.
“It’s no trouble. Good to know my talents are appreciated. I find it in my best interest not to play all my cards at once.”
“Smart of you not to,” Vetnik compliments.
“Nevertheless, the obstruction has been removed, do we wish to proceed,” Abigail asks.
“Um, yes. Scouts, take point!” Thom directs, curious as to how their Kellaghaian companion was able to dismantle the lock herself.

Grum and Grunt take their points and enter into through the door that empties into a 15ft. hallway. Along the way, Grum just barely catches sight of a small trigger in the floor. He reaches out his arm and blocks his ward from stepping on it and crouches to the ground to disarm it. It is a trigger for a gas trap that would have filled the hall with some unknown noxious gas.

They continue ahead and reach a fork. They continue onwards 30ft before coming across another fork. The scouts venture back to the main room and meet with the others, reporting back their findings. As Grum reports their findings, Abigail softly closes her eyes and slips into a state of deep concentration. Her breathing controlled, she stays silent for a moment. The others turn and watch, baited by the trance.

“West.” She whispers.
“Which West,” Thom begins to ask, “West North? West South?”
Abigail exhales with a sigh, opening her eyes again and shaking her head unknowingly.

The scouts turn to each other and discuss which direction to take for a moment, before settling on taking the SW path. They continue down it before coming upon another sturdy wooden door, unlocked. After Grum examines the door and finds no traps, Thom places his pointed ear against the door and holds it there for a couple beats. Nothing, at first, but just as he begins to pull his ear away, something catches him off guard. He presses his ear against the door again, this time at a different point closer to the ground. He can hear the sound of something shambling across the stone floor. A slow and labored shuffle. He raises his hand and signals that there is noise behind the door. He gently tugs at the door and realizes its swollen and stuck. He steps away and motions to Vetnik and Moira, pointing at the door. The pair nod and step to the front. Abigail, anticipating a fight, steps up to the front beside the warriors. Moira and Abigail give each other a look of support before each of the women draws their glass blades. Vetnik grips the handle of the door and with a single push, shoulders the door open.

The room beyond is large and rectangular, its floors decorated with alternating black and white painted stones (like that of a chess board.) Vetnik looks up from the floor just in time to see a pair of ragged corpses step out of the shadows into the radius of his torchlight. The ghouls are different from the ones encountered in the past. Their bodies appear preserved, their skin dried and tanned like leather. They look up to reveal thinly stretched skin receding from a horrid grimace. Their emaciated bodies are bound and draped in old linen wraps, each row of them painted with innumerable arcane symbols. Their dry, throaty hissing barely echoes throughout the chamber as they jerk towards the party, reaching out their death-black hands to grab. Jarred, Vetnik quickly stepped back and drew out his glass blade.

“MOVE,” Lyssa cried out to those on the frontlines! The three warriors turned back and saw Lyssa’s outstretched hand and the familiar red glow of magic in her blackened eyes. The party split down the middle, they watched as a small orb of swirling fire materializes in the palm of her hand and zips past them, exploding with an intense radius as it passes the party and enters the room. The mummies recoil at the burst of flame, but when the fire is absorbed back into the space, they remain, standing at the party.

“SSSSSSSAAAAAAA,” the mummies hiss in retaliation, their eyes and mouth burning with a flash of eerie green energy! While the fireball was potent, their undead resolve proves stronger than expected. Suddenly, the party hears the panicked shuffling of boots against the ground, fleeing from the scene. They turn and see Grunt running, Hank in hand, from the battle.

“FUCK THIS!” Grunt howls, turning tail.

Moira returns her attention to the undead before her and calls out to her patron. “In Cortox’s name, I turn thee!” The mummies howl once more, screeching with even more anger. With her prayer unanswered, she goes into direct action, swinging her glass blade twice. The creatures jerk their bodies at the waist away from the paladin’s sword, their loosely wrapped bodies betraying an unnatural agility. Thom continues to lurk in the back of the party, drumming for support. The noise only seems to drive the creatures into more of a frenzied state, as they rush the party head on. One attempts to grab at Grum but quickly steps back, evading its touch. Abigail is less fortunate, however. The second mummy grips her right knee and with all of its supernatural might, crushes in its hand, shattering the bones beneath.

Abigail retches herself from its grip, and falls to the ground gritting her teeth and cradling her leg. She quickly retrieves a wooden dagger from her artillery and places it between her teeth as she skids out of the room, back into the hall. Grum slinks past Abigail and enters into the room, ducking into the side shadows. Drawing his electric daggers, he angles himself behind them and goes in for the backstab with Lyn drawn. He sticks it the blade into the back of the mummy, in and out with quickness. While the others fend off the pair of undead, Trisoll races to the aid of the injured mage hunter.

“Please, let me—“
“Get your fucking head back in the fight,” Abigail barks at the cleric, spitting out her dagger while quickly digging into her pouches. He scrambles back into action, shaken by her tone, and shuts his eyes. He holds his holy symbol with shaky hands up to his chest and mutters a chant, blessing the party.
As Trisoll bestows the blessing, Abigail removes her hand from her wounded knee and finds the skin covered in black, oozing rot inching its way up her thigh. She retrieves a small jar filled with a thick, herb-green paste from her pouch. She tears away the blooded fabric surrounding her knee and scoops a hefty dollop onto the wound, frantically massaging it up and down the blackened area of infection.

Back in the room, Vetnik takes up arms and swipes his blade at the bodies of the mummies, cutting through their sigil-marked rags and tearing through the thin yet tough flesh of their bellies, shedding murky black sludge. From the hallway, Abigail notices the sound of drumming sounding near her suddenly stops. She looks up and sees a fiery hand begin to materialize above her, beginning with. As the hand releases a jet of flame, the glow from the jet illuminates the rematerialized body of Thom (much to her surprise.) The flame jet completely engulfs one of the mummies and they watch as its body collapses onto the ground. Flames from the burning hand whips at the second mummy, causing it to recoil. As it tries to save itself from the flames, Grum takes Lyn and Slå and sticks the thing in its belly before ending it’s un-life with a blade up through its jaw, severing whatever remains of a spinal cord.

Abigail calls out to Trisoll with a shivering command, “you, cleric!”
Trisoll quickly rushes to her side and begins to look over the salve-coated rot covering her knee. She nods at him, granting him the permission to lay hands on her. He does as he’s asked, and in his intimate way, wrapping his arms around her. His embrace his healing, and almost immediately she can feel the searing infection retreat. “Thank you for thinking of me, boy,” Abigail begins to whisper, “but in the heat of battle, do not take your eyes off of the enemy.”
“Oh, ok. I won’t,” Trisoll promises before releasing her from his healing hug. They look down and inspect the wound together. Both the bleeding and the rot have seemed to stop, but her bones remain broken. “We need to set your leg. Vetnik!”
While the others sack the room, Vetnik (accompanied by Moira) help tend to the wounded magehunter.

Trisoll kneels beside Vetnik and guides him through the geography of the wound. He shows the barbarian prince where and how best to use his strength to realign the bones.
Vetnik looks to Abigail and quips, “you may want that dagger again,” nodding to the wooden dagger beside her.
She quickly takes it up off the ground and grits it between her teeth once more as he places his hands around her leg. Abigail watches as Vetnik quickly jams the bones back into place as best he can. She seethes with tension as he does so, biting down harder into the dagger than she had been. A muffled popping sound signifies his success. Moira quickly hands over what bandages she can and Trisoll quickly wraps the area taught.
“Try to go easy on it from here on out,” Trisoll warmly suggests.
“Do you wish me to carry you?” Vetnik asks.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Abigail says, rebuffing his offer. “We should continue.”
“Don’t worry about her, I’ve got this.” Trisoll says, helping Abigail back to her feet.

In the corner of the room, Thom spies a sarcophagus, open and large enough for the two bodies to share. Its exterior is carved in deathly images and inlaid with runes matching the ones decorating the dressings of the mummies. A brass plaque is inlaid at the head of the coffin, upon which a relief is carved.

“Do you still feel evil in here,” Thom asks Moira.
Moira nods as they move towards the coffin together.
Grum searches the door of the sarcophagus for traps and finds none. Thom points out that there appears to be a small panel inside against the back. Grum examines it and it takes little time for him to deduce a trigger. Before Grum reaches in closer to disarm, the hurried footsteps of another enter the room. All turn to see Grunt standing in the threshold, his hood covering most of what must be an embarrassed expression across his face, as well as Hank down at his side.

“So pleased you could join us,” Grum says mockingly.
“Let’s never speak of what happened tonight.” Grunt replies.

Grum looks at the trapped panel and back at his ward. “Well, now that you’ve returned, how’s about you give this trap a try?”

Grunt sheaths his bow and complies without a word. He rushes up to the sarcophagus, he lifts his hood just enough to allow for better vision. He moves in and skillfully removes it. Removing a trigger pin, the panel opens to reveal a hidden compartment. He finds first a series of viles, each containing what appear to be thousands upon thousands of dully-colored spores. A diabolical trap that, had it not been so easily disarmed, would’ve released the spores onto any poor soul nearby, spreading its bacterial ruin. Beyond them, he finds tucked away a deck of handmade cards, a small metal flask, and a strange orb inlayed with foreign symbols. Thom looks them over in the torchlight while Lyssa rejoins the party, waving her hand across the objects. She alerts the party that all objects radiate magic.

“I’m not sure what the orb could be,” Thom begins, passing the orb to his brother. Opening the flask, a slight and clean scent escapes. Thom quickly takes a whif and reports, “but this flask appears to be a Philter of Feather Fall. And these cards are not merely playing cards, but a Deck of Chance.” Lyssa’s curiosity is visibly piqued, as she reaches out and grabs at the deck to examine more closely.
“You be careful with those things,” warns the bard. “From what I can recall from the Book of Marvelous Magic, those can do you just as much harm as they can good.”
“Just as long as they can’t do us harm, let her have the bloody things.” Vetnik chimes in.
Lyssa rolls her eyes at the barbarian and saunters over to the mummies’ bodies while Thom bestows the pfilter to Grunt and the mysterious orb to his brother. Lyssa severs and takes a mummy’s hand but finds nothing else on them beyond burned, rune covered rags. She pilfers through them trying to discern a meaning, but the symbols are foreign to her – no doubt some kind of necromantic spell to animate the dead. She tears a strip for later research.

WARNER’S COVENANT KILLED 17 GOBLINS HERE is scrawled across the eastern-most wall. There are four more exits in the room – three doors and an archway. Recalling Abigail’s earlier advisement, they continue through to door heading West. Neither noise nor trap is detected on this door. They find the wooden door just as swollen as the last door opened, if not moreso. Vetnik repeats and pushes his way through. Waiting for them is a short hallway with several archways lining the walls and a dead end, as well as a single door. Vetnik motions for Grum, who leads them down to check the halls.

The brothers examine the door according to protocol and hear nothing, nor are any traps found. The simple wooden door is swollen. Tiring of the warped doors, Vetnik takes the opportunity to take out his aggravation by kicking the door all the way in this time. The door falls to the ground and reveals unlit living quarters. Torchlight reveals furniture and chests smashed to pieces; bed linens and clothing litter the ground, shredded. Desks are opened, emptied, and overturned. Grum notices that the razing of the room appears to be recent, as no film of dust seems to cover the refuse. Bodies (and blood) are visibly absent. Across the room is a door and receded into the wall is another portcullis.

“Do these robes look familiar to you at all, Abigail,” Thom asks, poking at the ruins with the tip of his scabbard.
“Yes. These cloaks belonged to the cultists from the Circle. They’ve been torn to shreds, but I don’t see any blood.”
Grum takes a cue from Abigail and lifts his gem of seeing from out under his own tunic and begins to examine the room. He finds no sign of blood in the room either.

Thom and Vetnik move past portcullis and to the door. Thom barely places his ear against it before hearing the sound of something strange gurgling and grunting behind it. As Thom listens, his brother is quick to find a trap on the door. Grum disarms the trigger (that of another gas trap) and just as quickly unlocks the door. The pair back away and turn to each other and then the party.

“Warriors first, or do we try to get the ambush?” Thom asks.
“Moira and I will take the lead. Abigail, you ought to stay back.”
“I’ll be fine,” Abigail replies, attempting to steady herself against Trisoll. Realizing that her injury may prove a liability, she silently agrees to fall back behind the warriors and thieves, but is adamant about keeping in front of the spellcasters.

Just as Moira and Vetnik burst through the door, they enter to find… silence. As the party enters the room, the robed body of a young woman comes into sight. The torchlight flickers against the pool of blood congealing beneath her, ebbing from an almost-freshly sliced throat. Her eyes stare up towards the ceiling blankly while her arm lies lifeless over her head. A wooden mace lays just inches away from her hand. Abigail pushes past the thieves and warriors and surveys the body. The robe is identical to the shredded ones found on the floor of the living quarters they just arrived from. Beyond illuminated area, the twins notice something in the distance. Grum puts his gem of seeing back to his eye and it reveals a mound of gem chips piled up against the wall. As he passes the gem across the room, he sees three strange hulking forms pressed against the wall. Their bodies seem to camouflage against the stone brick of the room. He notes that these beings appear almost headless, their torsos coming to a slight point and decorated with three eyes surrounding the headless neck. Pressed against the wall, he notices their long, sinewy arms and the talons ending each finger. The strange forms of the creatures rest on three stout legs, thick, not unlike that of an elephant’s. Grum lets out a soft whistle and begins to back away towards the door, causing the others to slowly do the same while peering ignorantly into the dark perimeter.

“2 o’clock, 8 o’clock, and 10 o’clock.” Grum mentions, before backing out of the room.
“What is it?” Abigail asks as she begins to slide her blade from out of its scabbard.
“Against the wall, strange creatures. Headless with three arms and three legs.”
“I’ve heard stories about these creatures. Xorn they’re called. Neither fire nor frost are said to do harm their stonelike bodies.”
“That knocks out two of my elemental contributions” Lyssa moans.
“Wait, what if we smoke them out with fog. Send out blind fighters in to cut whatever these xorn are while they’re still in hiding and—“
Before Thom can finish, Trisoll interjects. “Wait. I’ve got it! When I say strike, I need you all to do so quickly and heavily.”
Thom looked at Trisoll, curious and intrigued by his confidence. The party steps aside and makes way for the cleric.

Trisoll enters the dark chamber, his heart racing. He takes a deep breath, clenching his holy symbol in hand. His eyes flooding with a soft white glow, he shuts them and releases a radius of faint white light that coats the walls of the room and the things that cling to the shadows. “NOW!” Trisoll cries out, and the party rushes in on his command. They enter and watch as the hard stone of the wall and the creatures begins to soften and drip, slowly transforming into dense mud.

Grunt rushes in with Hank drawn and rapidly fires off two energy bolts into the positions outlined previously by Grum. The first bolt strikes, causing one of the xorn to screech and step out of the shadows. The second arrow zips into the left arm of the thing, exploding in a burst of mud-flesh and crackling energy. Trisoll continues to concentrate his power on the walls of the room and begins to harden the mud back to large, jagged rocks of stone. The stone spikes pierce the backs of the remaining pair of xorn, forcing them off against the wall and towards the center of the room. Before they can swarm Trisoll, Vetnik rushes in with blade drawn, hacking at each of the beasts and keeping them at bay. From the doorway, Abigail retrieves a small orb from one of her pouches and tosses it to the far end of the room. Upon colliding with the floor, the orb busts open and unleashes a spray of small, metal shrapnel pieces, which fly and pierce the flesh of the lumbering xorn. Lyssa steps forward, revealing the thin wand of Lightning to unleash a forked lightning bolt from its metal-plated tip. The bolt surges through the body of one of the xorn and she watches as the top of its torso opens up to reveal a gaping maw rimmed with rows of jagged teeth and a large, bulbous tongue whipping wildly back and forth. With a bellowing cry, the strange earthen creature slumps to the ground with a great thud as the smell of charred earth fills the room. A second, thinner bolt surges forth from the wand and connects with a second nearby xorn, though its intensity paled to that of the first bolt. Grum quickly follows up with a pair of arrows from his longbow, firing both into the freshly electrocuted xorn. The first zips across the room and sticks firmly into the torso of the thing. The xorn reaches out with its trio of hands but fails to retch the arrow from out of its body. Before it can get a firm grasp, Grum lets loose a second arrow, pinning its hand to its own torso and slaying the beast. With one xorn standing, Thom leaps in with his longsword drawn and chops at the creature. The xorn manages to grab at Thom’s arm as he strikes and bites into it. Before it can dig its teeth too deep, Thom yanks his arm and sword away and regains his footing.

Trisoll opens his eyes and stumbles back, unable to keep the transmute spell. The melting hide of the xorn returns to its original, hardened form. Grunt takes aim at the last xorn standing and fires another pair of arrows. The creature howls as the first arrows collides into its belly with a show of sparks, while the second fizzles against the wall behind it. Moira dives in, cutting at the beast twice before it can seize her weapon. Abigail limps further into the room, raising her glass blade. She brings the blade down into its mouth and jams it deep into its throat. The xorn attempts to shut its mouth, but chokes on the blade before it can do so.

6750ep
9000sp

The party searches the body of the cultist under the supervision of Abigail, but find nothing on her. Lyssa examines the dead xorn and salvages a dead eye from one of the corpses. After collecting the horde of gem chips, they continue west until they come upon another fork with two archways. The scouts lead the party up the second, heading NE.

“Watch your step!” Grunt says sternly back to the others. He notices on the ground a fine wire stretched just inches above the floor, reaching from one wall to the other at the end of the hall. He follows the string up to the roof, where peaking out from the slits in the stone ceiling, he sees the faint glint of large metal blades meant to cleave any unfortunate soul who happens upon this hall into pieces. Grunt continues down the hall to find… nothing, a dead end. He motions tags his mentor and the pair return to join the party.

The scouts lead the party down the southern archway, which twists north and forks into a door and a second passageway. They approach the door first, checking for traps and noise. Neither is found, and the lock appears unused. Opening the door, the faint smell of extinguished flames waft from a nearby fireplace across the room at the east wall beside another door. The walls are smooth stone, undecorated except for the few torches fixed to the wall – one of the few chambers that the party has found to be illuminated. The floor is a spiral of black, polished marble tiles and in the center of the vortex. Grum enters and heads east to inspect the fireplace. Upon inspection, his senses are arrested by the foul stench of scorched meat. He takes a closer look, poking at a large blackened lump with his dagger. Turning the lump over, the sight and smell jar him.

“I found something.”

The rest of the party enters the silent room and sees Grum hunched around the fireplace, poking at it and visibily disgusted by something within.

“What is it?” Vetnik asks as he approaches.
“Looks to be a heart. Human sized,” he answers, reluctantly continuing to poke at the burned refuse. After knocking it away, he sees a mound of ash piled up deeper inside. He clears the mound of ash and reveals a medium sized chest set into the floor of the fireplace. Grum clears the lock of ashen remains and examines it for any possible traps. Finding none, he successfully picks the chest open. Inside it, he finds the following gems loose inside:

3 Aquarmarines
1 Black pearl
1 Chrysophase
2 Citrine
1 Coral
2 Deep blue spinels
1 Deep green spinel
1 Hematite
1 Golden yellow topaz
1 Jet
1 Malachite
1 Obsidian
1 Pink pearl
1 Rich purple corundum
1 Sordinyx
1 Star rose quartz
1 White pearl
1 Tourmaline

While Grum scoops the contents into his bag of holding, Thom presses ahead with Grunt, and the pair examines the door nearest to the fireplace. After hearing no sound and finding neither trap nor lock barring them from entering, Grunt opens the door to reveal a most macabre chamber. On the eastern wall is a gargantuan stone relief of a human skull; on the opposite side of the room, the wall is inlayed with a series of runes like those seen decorating the dressings of the mummies. They cast an eerie glow that tints the chamber blood red. In the southern corner are strange mounds of what appear at first glance to be freshly melted wax, the shine of which reflects in the crimson glow of the chamber. Opposite the blobs stands a tree, its roots reaching out over the tiled ground but not embedded into the floor. It’s bark is pristine save for a series of small yet numerous gashes across the trunk and limbs. High in the trunk of the tree, the scouts are able to make out what appears to be a hole, bored deep past the bark and leaking a dark fluid. Grum places his gloved fingertips to the liquid and inspects it in the red light. It’s dark and thinner than any sap he’s seen. Putting it to his nose, he takes one whiff and recognizes it.

“It’s blood,” he exclaims, “this tree is… bleeding!”

As he reaches for his gem of seeing to inspect the tree, Abigail cries out, frantically limping past the others towards the tree. “Maja?” she cries out, collapsing against the trunk. She begins to slap and swat at the bark, calling out the name of her missing lover. “Maja? Maja, I’m here! You’re safe now! Maja!”

The party watches as the branches and the leaves begin to shiver. The leaves flutter off the branches and as they descend, swirl around the tree. The bark quickly begins to peel itself back away from the body of the tree and absorb into itself, reveal at first the lithe arms of a woman. The unwrapping bark descends down to the roots, revealing more and more features of the woman. Her fair skin is seen marred by dirt, bruises and small, bloodied cuts; the leaves flutter down and change from green to red, crowning the woman with a head of fiery auburn hair. The wounded bark tears away to reveal a face, and where the wound is revealed as the woman’s eye socket. The bark and roots disappear and the woman collapses into Abigail’s waiting arms.
“What have they done to you,” Abigail asks the woman resting against her chest. She takes off her cloak and quickly drapes it over the woman’s body.

Abigail pleads with the healers of the party, the first show of vulnerability from the otherwise stern magehunter. “Trisoll, please! Please, help her!”
Trisoll and Moira both rush to the wounded druid, each pressing themselves against her shivering, cloaked body while chanting in the names of their patrons. As the pair prays for healing, Maja pleads with her lover. “Do not look upon me,” she whimpers, reaching to cover her still bleeding eye socket.
“I would love you if they had taken half of your face, now tell me who did this so I may exact my vengeance.”
“Her name is Malia, she was the leader of the Circle. She had taken my eye as punishment after a follower remarked a resemblance her and I, then took out of the eye of the follower and used both in some kind of ritual. She… she kept me here, bled with me knives and leeches, using my blood for whatever rites the Circle were carrying out.”
“What else happened here? We found one of the cultists with her throat cut open.”
“Malia, she—“ Maja continues, choking up as she recalls the memory, “she went on a rampage through the lair. After communing with a man, a night elf with an accent I’ve never heard before, Malia went mad and released the monsters they had been keeping down here to experiment upon. She unleashed them upon her followers. Those that weren’t slain by them she cut them down herself! ”
“So the creatures down here weren’t natives. They were prisoners?” Vetnik asks.
“Yes, just as I was. After Malia slew the first of her followers here she fled and in her absence I quickly changed myself into a tree in hopes that I could heal myself somehow and avoid any wandering monsters.”
Vetnik’s ears perk at the beginning of her description of the aforementioned night elf. Moira opens her eyes and lets Trisoll take over the healing. The pair of warriors look to each other, a sinking feeling of dread begins to weigh heavily down in their gut.
“Please, continue,” Moira beseeches the druid, taking Vetnik’s hand into hers.
“He was not here physically, but a projection of him. In it, he wore a suit of armor crafted from metal, black and decorated in strange runes. He was like no other night elf I’ve seen before. His eyes burned with a hatred when he spoke to Malia, but not hatred for her, but for something else. I’m not certain, I could not make out what they were discussing.”
Moira speaks up, asking Maja to confirm details of the night elf’s face. She begins to describe a face in particular: the slope of its brow, the part of its long, white hair, the hook of his nose and his devious grin. “Yes, yes that was him,” Maja confirms.
“You know this night elf,” Abigail asks, turning to Moira. Vetnik moves forward and whispers a name into her ear. “I do not know this name.”
“If it’s who I think Vetnik thinks it is, then we’re dealing with a very unpleasant character,” Thom chimes in.
“Explain,” Abigail barks, pressing Maja closer to herself.
“Where we come from, this night elf is called a Drow. He’s also known to be quite an arse.”
“He’s also very powerful.” Vetnik interjects.
“Well if he is aligned with Malia, he will die too.”
“They’ll all die, this I can assure you,” Vetnik says grimly.
“He was an agent for some nefarious deities long ago. We thought he no longer posed a threat until recently, but it appears he’s back up to his old tricks again.”
“Deities,” Abigail asks, shocked that Malia could be able to commune with an avatar.
“Who does the Circle worship?”
“Death. The Circle of Bones worships only that which destroys. They’re magi, necromancers who believe that through death they can gain power over the realm. I do not know who this Kr’zzt is or what his connection would be to them, but if he is in congress with Malia and the Circle, death may only be the beginning of what they have planned.”
“If it’s death he wants, it’s death he’ll get.” Vetnik snarls.
“Well, before that, perhaps we should inspect the rest of the lair, see if there aren’t any other clues or something as to what Kr’zzt may be up to.” Thom reasons.
“Is it not obvious? He’s trying to get back into Lolth’s favor!” Vetnik says aloud, announcing a name that foreign to Abigail and Maja .
“Sure, but she cast him out in a big way. Not to mention, I’m sure there are other death gods here,” Thom counters.
“Maybe he’s trying to get in higher graces with one of them? Who knows, maybe he’s looking to supplant Lolth by making allies of the dark forces here in Kellagha,” says Moira. “He is certainly brazen enough to try!”
“Hm. No doubt, the dark forces on our side of the Flanaess are wary to cross Lolth, maybe he thinks he can find allies here.” Thom continues to reason.
“Flanaess? Lolth? What in blazes are you going on about,” Abigail cries out.
“Oh, Flanaess? It’s regional, just what we call the planet.” Thom informs.

Vetnik wanders away from the group, frustrated by the seeming lack of urgency the party has, and attempts to cool his temper by searching through the remnants in the room. He comes across the strange, waxy blobs littering the floor. He jabs at one of them with the tip of his blade and as it he cuts through it, the blob oozes out a semi-clear viscous fluid. He kneels down for a closer look and finds that the strange slime is laced with pieces of hair. Using his sword, he cuts deeper into the mound and releases more of the ooze, thicker and murkier than that which ebbed before. A deathly scent shots up from the hole made, and before Vetnik cuts any deeper, he watches as small teeth lace the stream of slime, followed by a human eye. He realizes that these mounds are not mere wax, but jellied human remains. He chokes slightly on the scent and returns to the others.
“These… these things were once men? What kind of magic reduces a man to a mound?”
“Malia did this with a spell she received from this Drow you speak of.”
“It’s good craftsmanship, this spell,” Lyssa remarks coldly, kneeling down over the oozing mound, scooping up a portion of it into an empty flask. “Perhaps when we get somewhere more civilized, I can break down what kind of magic was able to do this.”
The party collectively shivers at the morbid sight before continuing to question Maja.

“Do you know where this Malia’s chambers are?”

Maja outstretches out her arm and points to the relief of the skull carved into the wall. “There.”
The scouts move to the skull and enter its mouth where they find a door. Though Grum fails, it is Grunt who manages to unlock the door. The door is odd in its make: with a lock at the base securing it to the floor, Grunt and Grum work together to slide the door up into the roof of the skull’s mouth. Behind it lays a 40ft hallway leading to a second, more traditional wooden door. The scouts call upon Vetnik to shoulder the door down, who obliges. They enter into what appears to be a magician’s laboratory. Every visible piece of equipment smashed and shattered on the ground. Tomes of magical texts shredded, burned, and doused with water. A pair of cultists lay dead on the ground covered in debris, their tunics marked by stab wounds and covered in blood. Thom finds a pile of scraps from a scroll, the runes of a foreign language still semi-visible, and pockets them for later inspection. They exit the room and return back to the main chamber.

“Out of duty, I will remain down here with you all as you wish, but I must get Maja out of here,” Abigail implores.
“Well, we can either clear out one of these rooms and set up a safe camp, or—“
Thom stops and begins to watch as Abigail retrieves a pair of identical stones from her belted pouches. Putting one to her ear and the other to her lips, she begins to speak. “We are beneath Melgas,” she begins, apparently holding a one-sided conversation. “We found Maja… yes, the Circle of Bones. All except Malia are slain. I need you to take her to safety. Meet us here, and make haste!”

“What about you,” Maja whimpers as Abigail lowers the stones from her face.
“You need not worry over me. I owe these people an incredible debt of gratitude. They helped me find you. If not for them, I— the woman who did this to you who must pay.”
“It was not just I, my love. Mandrake, he—“ Maja struggles to explain before breaking down into tears once more. “He too came here to rescue me, but… but Malia, he—“
“He taught me everything I know,” Abigail says, mourning the loss of her mentor. Snapping back to the present, she urges, “you must go with Perdal and Roiman. They will be here soon! They will keep you safe.”

Abigail lifts Maja up and adjusts the cloak draping her injured lover, making sure to secure her decency. While doing so, the sight of Maja’s injuries once again puts Abigail in an angered state. “Now, you all tell me everything you know about this Kr’zzt!”
“We will in due time. For now, we should look and see if there are any other clues to his whereabouts. I promise you’ll get your vengeance on the Circle. “
“You keep your word then, and I promise I will do whatever in my power to help you take down this Kr’zzt. Vengeance is my only recourse here, he and Malia’s blood will be shed.”
“Fair enough,” Thom begins, “but our quest is more than just mere vengeance.”

2:11

Abigail offers Lyssa the use of her communication stones in exchange for her debt to her being paid. Lyssa laughs the offer off, citing her own telepathic magic abilities. Angered, she gives them to Thom instead.

Thom reveals to Abigail the truth about their quest: that they come from Greyhawk and are on the hunt for Kr’zzt, with whom they have a history. Vetnik is displeased by this, and feeling slighted, backs out of the discussion. Lyssa continues to goad Abigail, telling her that while her vengeance may feel justified, it pales in comparison to the importance of their own quest for justice against Kr’zzt. Fed up, Trisoll silences the party. Lyssa teleports the party out of the chamber and returns them to the surface, where Abigail’s compatriots are waiting to take Maja. Abigail gives Maja her magic dampening amulet and releases her into the care of her friends. As the two lovers say their goodbyes, the party address the power struggles within the group. Vetnik lets the party know that if he wants them to be led by them, they ought to abide by his leadership. Thom agrees but argues that most of the party is made up of people who have issues with authority or aren’t disciplined in hierarchical structures the same way Vetnik is. They calm themselves down and Thom and Lyssa return to the lair to investigate more, but find little else beyond smashed equipment.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

The company arrives to the ruins of the small village of Melgas, where little of the former structures remain. Those that do are in disrepair, teaming with wild grass and mounds of ivy and moss. The forest has taken everything back. The only building that remains somewhat intact is a temple deeper into town.

Abigail says the Circle of Bones is a cabal of evil Magi and they are known to heavily trap their lairs, and she’s been tracking them since her lover’s disappearance.

“I have no interest or claim to anything you find in Melgas, my treasure is Maja and Maja alone.” Abi
“How sentimental.” Lys

The acolytes once again stay behind with the horses and supplies outside of the temple ruins, setting up camp in a nearby abandoned home.

Abigail finds a trap door among the rubble in the ruined foyer of the temple. The Brothers Black DOP. Grum successfully disarms the trap door, removing a small latch which seems to be a trigger for a flammable trap. While arranging marching order, Abigail begins to march ahead, but Grum reasons with her that he’s a seasoned scout and he and his ward (Grunt) will lead the party down into the depths of the church. They empty into a narrow hall several feet below the floor of the temple. All the humans light their churches, save for the apparently human Abigail.

Further into the hall around a corner, Grum finds a stone door sealed with a particularly sturdy and intricate-looking lock, and sends Grunt for Thom. The three convene on the door ahead of the party, where Thom casts invisibility over himself out of sight from the others. The twins DOP and find neither noise nor trap. Grum fails to unlock, but Grunt is successful. After opening, he retrieves the others.

The door empties into a large room filled with an acrid stench. The room is barren, save for two portculuses, a wooden door and stone door, and the only thing that decorates the wall are cryptic words : JORN LIES HERE, SLAIN BY A BASILISK. Suddenly, two giant salamanders drop from the ceiling, surprising Abigail and Vetnik. It strikes but misses Vetnik, but the other connects a bite into Abigail. Thom begins to drum as battle ensues. Moira slashes twice at the salamander attacking her companion, cutting it once. The monster continues to snap at Vetnik, grazing his arm with his teeth. The other bites into Abigail a second time. Vetnik retaliates and grievously wounds his attacker. Trisoll rushes to defend Abigail and smashes the salamander with his shelalegh. Lyssa opens her hand and releases three magic missiles and slays the salamander attacking Vetnik. Grum leaps from the shadows and backstabs with Lyn and Slå, felling the second salamander. The smell of suddenly charred flesh piques Abigai’s curiosity, but Grum is quick to conceal his daggers.

Grum and Grunt split up and both peak into one of the raised portculus and find nothing 30 ft in. The thieves then move onto the stone door and finds no traps. Before opening, Thom puts his ear to the crack of the door, and after hearing no noise, they move onto the wooden door. They find neither traps nor lock, but do find it swollen and stuck shut. Thom listens and hears no noise. Vetnik offers to help pry the door open and succeeds. Behind it, they find another dark, short hallway leading to a fork.

The scouts go back to the stone door and enter into a narrow, long room. As they enter, the door knocks against a pile of empty bottles, which clang together and echo throughout the room. Two more salamanders slither down from the ceiling and attack Grunt, biting into his leg. Thom sounds the drums of battle, alerting and buffing his companions. Grum charges at the amphibian with Lyn and Slå again. Grunt fires with Hank, landing an energy arrow. Both Grum and Grunt are bitten before the others rush in. As Vetnik rushes in and slashes, he misses and fumbles his glass sword from out of his hand and falls to the ground. Jarred, Moira misses with the first swipe but deftly lands with the second swipe of her blade. Trisoll whacks at one with his shillelagh and fells the beast attacking Grum. Grum and Trisoll share respectful glances before Grum leaps and jams his blades into the remaining salamander, slaying it. Vetnik stands, dusting himself, avoiding eye contact with the others (embarrassed by his fumble.) Moira discretely comforts him while the others sack the room. All that appears to remain are a series of deteriorating tapestries. While sifting through the glass bottles, Trisoll finds a stone ring. Lyssa attempts to snatch it away from Trisoll but he proves too quick. He smugly saunters away from the others and quietly calls out to Thom. Thom, still unseen, tugs at Trisoll’s tunic, notifiying him of his presence. Trisoll opens his hand and shows off the ring, asking for identification. Thom casts identify and reveals that it’s a ring of Wind Warding.

The party moves through the southern door. Twins DOP and find it safe, unlocked but stuck. Vetnik pushes the door clean open, revealing a short hall. They head north to another door, which is unlocked and untrapped. It’s a wooden door of strange make; it appears to slide up into the frame. The party regroups before opening. As they enter into the room, a low rattling noise can be heard echoing in the room. Like stone slowly scraping together, without rhythm or reason. Vetnik enters first and looks up to the ceiling and in the glow of the torch light, he sees a pair of gargoyles turn their heads around and dive down towards the party. Vetnik rushes in, torch in one hand and sword in the other. As Vetnik rushes in, the thieves enter clinging to the shadows while the others follow behind the barbarian. The gargoyles fly and evade Vetnik, rushing the others. Abigail and Moira attack the same gargoyle. Abigail barely gets a hit in with glass sword, but Moira gets a solid hit in, cutting through the stony skin of the gargoyle to sever its right arm, covering her blade in moss-colored blood. Even without an arm, the gargoyle is still determined. Trisoll bangs it with his shillelagh but the gargoyle continues to be unfazed. Vetnik attacks the able-bodied gargoyle, bashing it with his torch before cutting into with his sword. Despite missing a limb, the gargoyle lashes out and carves into her with his talons before slashing and biting at Trisoll. Grum retaliates with Lyn and Slå and jams his dagger into the left leg of the creature, breaking it at the knee. The aftershock of the electrical blade surges through the gargoyle and fells it. Lyssa fires a metal-tipped arrow at the last gargoyle standing. The beast dodges it and the sound of metal against the stone wall tings and echoes. Grunt backs her up with Hank and fires off a pair of energy arrows, both of which land and explode against the stone skin of the gargoyle, felling it.

As the brothers investigate the treasure mound of gem chips, Lyssa goes to retrieve her arrow.

“A peculiar sound from that arrow of yours. What’s its make?” Abi
Lyssa glares, but before she can respond, Grum chimes in. “Fire treated glass.”
“Do you mind if I inspect them? They seem weighted differently.”
“I do, actually.” Lys
“You have something to hide?”
“Only as much as you.”
“I’m an open book.”
“Speaking of books,” Lyssa says before crouching back down to investigate a pile of old and ruined tomes.

Abigail purses her lips and brushes the cold mage off. Trisoll intervenes, attempting to slyly cozy up to the magehunter. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, but pay Lyssa no mind. She means no harm, usually. If you want to vent though, or anything, let me know, I’d—“
“Get away from me. Now, cleric. “
Trisoll backs away, hands up and proverbial tale between his legs.

900pp
9000sp

Lyssa finds the books all completely unsalvageable, destroyed intentionally by fire and water.

Thom scouts one of the small archways while his brother investigates the other, western archway, while Grunt collects chips. The party reconvene after finding two hallways, and decide to follow into Thom’s archway. They head down the hall until coming upon another stone door bound by a complex lock. Grum successfully dismantles it and opens into a giant room. A foul odor hits their collective noses and the scouts notice the room’s floor littered with broken arrows. Thom glances around the room and he spots something move on the stone wall. What appears to be wet stone is revealed to be a slowly moving grey ooze creeping towards the party. Grum quickly fires off a pair of arrows into the translucent body of the ooze, but still it continues to slither further. Moira runs and slashes into the ooze with her glass blade. Vetnik follows suit and with a second blow, the ooze suddenly begins to separate, dissolving down the wall and onto the ground into a motionless puddle. Thom pushes past the others and begins to rifle through a mound of treasure.

900pp
2250gp

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Immediately after tossing the room, Thom breaks his invisibility in the room tossed and catches up with Abigail. He calls out to Banshee and asks her to tail Jerendin while he catches up with Abigail and the rest of the party. Lyssa via her familiar obliges and send the owl after.

Thom informs Abigail that Jerendin lied, much to Abigail’s dismay.

“Melgas? I know where the ruins are, but why would he say Piraqua? I need to contact… Yes, I have allies I can send to Piraqua, but will you accompany me to Melgas?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I can’t believe I let him live. Elven filth! I’m going to ride back to see if I can trail any leftover magicks, catch his trail.”

She rides back to the tossed room in the Sludge while Thom races back to the Inn.

Thom petitions Lyssa via Banshee to trail Jerendin and she obliges out of respect for him. When he shows up, they discuss.

“I’m not asking you to become her ally, but we need as many contacts in this realm as possible.”
“We don’t know much about this world. The things we think we know don’t seem quite right. I agree with Thom. I know you find her abrasive but she’s our only other contact here.”
“If you assist me with this, I’m willing to exact revenge on Abigail you think you deserve for her disrespect” Thom whispers to Lyssa. Lyssa gives a slight smirk, but only briefly before she escapes into Banshee’s mind.
“Hahaha, you two angry peas in an angry pod!” Trisoll jokes.
“Ugh, away from me with your tired idioms!”

Abigail returns in foul spirits. She laments to Vetnik, “I was too late, Jerendin made good on his escape.” Vetnik makes 30 sp (eq) for serving as bouncer and remains downstairs as the rest of the team discusses what to do about Jerenden.

Though Banshee’s eyes, Lyssa sees Jerendin polymorph into a deer and gallop off into the woods. Suddenly, as Banshee exceeds the range of contact, Lyssa begins to feel a dull, droning pain. Lyssa watches as Jerendin returns to form by the river. He takes out a small box, intones a spell over it and transforms it into a small boat. He sets sail NW down the river.

Abigail joins the others upstairs, and tells Trisoll to shut up after his greeting.

Lyssa knocks Abigail’s door and she sees Abigail’s hand on her sword. “What do you want, witch?”
“From you? Not much. But I have something you want.”
“What?”
“The whereabouts of your friend, the spurgist.”
“Where? Tell me! What do you want?”
“What do you have to offer?”
“I have already offered your friends my cache of weapons.“
”What do you have to offer me more specifically?”
“I have… many connections throughout the realm, many resources.”
“How vague.”
“Out with it!”
Lyssa begins to eye Abigail’s amulet. Abigail tucks the trinket away and grips her sword.
“Because I’m in the company of such good people, I will give you what you seek. Before I give you this information, you will promise me a favor.”
“Fine.”
“An oath. Swear it on that which is most sacred to you.”
“I swear it on Maja’s life. I will do what you ask, just tell me!”
“The spurgist you hunt changed into a deer and back, and is already at a river. He has conjured a craft and has set sail NW. “
“Thank you. You have not given me your name.”
Lyssa glares before spinning ‘round and staggering back to the common room. Abigail huffs but brushes it off before gathering her things.

Trisoll commands Strom to “pay up” when Lyssa returns to the room. Moira and Lyssa connect discreetly, healing the mage from both the cut dealt by Abigail and the damage endured pushing herself too far in Banshee’s mind. Abigail immediately gets to work on contacting her allies and getting a trail back on Jerendin.

Night falls and most of the party (save for Vetnik) retires for the evening. Abigail returns after a few hours and begins to speak with Vetnik.

“Why are you still up?’
“I need to earn coin, er, chips somehow?”
“We can take some contracts along the way?”
“Let’s discuss this more when neither of us are dead tired.”
“Fair enough.”

Abigail meets the others in the morning, more subdued this time. Thom drops strength on he and his brother.

Moira moans to Vetnik. “You never came to bed last night.”
“I had to stay up last night.”
“You’re so selfless.”
“You can rest while I ride today. I’ll lash Clevene to me.”

Abigail nods to Lyssa, which Lyssa responds with a cool reception. She asks if the party has gotten acquainted with the weapons she has gifted them.
“How do you think I stayed awake last night?” Vetnik replies, twirling a glass sword.

Vetnik, Moira, Grum receive glass swords. Thom gets bone swords. Lyssa and Trisoll get wooden daggers.

“Try not to poke your eye out.” Lys to Tri

Thom also proposes to make Lyssa throwing daggers out of dead/fossilized wood found along the way.

The party sets off, with Abigail riding point and Spitfire 300ft up and ½ mile ahead while Banshee does the same at the rear. Strom stays behind and lets Wous take control of the Acolytes traveling.

9 hours into the ride, they see a camp of a boy and a man at the side of the road tending to a fire. As they ride past, Lyssa does them an act of proposed kindness by casting Alter Normal Flames, increasing the campfire.

“What kind of spurgist casts for no chip?” The father asks suspiciously, shielding the boy.
“No spurgist friend, we ask no fee of you!” Thom reassures.
“What do you want? We seek safe passage through the wood, and I’m not well armed. We’re all alone out here.”
“Of course, sir.“ Moira says. She looks back to the others and mouths “the boy”.
“As much as my companion is quick to say yes, is there a reason you cannot pass?” Vetnik asks.

Lyssa sees via Banshee 6 men riding with wooden weapons on horseback. She begins to Mind Scan the boy and initially gets his fear but is shut out of his mind the second round.

“Who are these men? Why do you fear they’ll take you?”
“He’s just a boy! Leave him alone!”
“You have one more minute to talk before they catch up.”

Thom asks Abigail if she’ll dampen his magic, and she informs that she wills the dampening effect of her amulet. He thinks of creating Leomund’s Tiny Hut over Lyssa, Moira, Abigail and the travelers while the rest of them deal with the riders.

Men ride up. “Have you seen a man and a boy?”
“No sir, we’ve been all alone on this road so far.” Thom lies.
“The boy is wanted for murder!”
“How can a boy commit murder?”
“There’s evil in him. Born evil, gonna die evil. Tell us if you’ve seen him!”
“They’ve continued down the road, just passed us.” Thom
The officers are skeptical but pass.

Lyssa tries to coax the boy into talking but fails. Abigail steps forward and growls for him to answer. The boy weeps “I didn’t mean to!”
“What’s he talking about?”
“My boy… he, he killed two of his little playmates. It was an accident, but I don’t think it was!”
“Don’t cry, daddy.” The boy says. Lyssa notices the boy makes weeping sounds but no tears wet his cheeks.

After the riders disappear, Vetnik enters and sees the father weeping with his son trying to console him.

Moira confirms to Lyssa that she sensed no other entity in him and that the evil inside was human in nature. Lyssa returns to the hut as the rest of the party gets back on their horses. Thom sneaks off and follows her. She confides with the boy that she too was grateful for a supportive parent but that her evils were committed under duress from outside forces, and that what he did was ultimately brutish. She sighs and casts Fireflow on the campfire, sicking the living flame on the boy. The father leaps in front and the pair is engulfed in fire. Lyssa is stunned when Thom enters from behind and slits the throats of the boy and father.

“Why did you do that?”
“I no god to offend. The boy had no chance of a life of light without his father, and losing the boy would’ve only driven the father to dark. The world needs balance. It’s over now. Let’s go.”

Vetnik argues that Thom should’ve taken the boy on as his ward and shown him the error of his ways. “Work him until the evil is purged or let him die.”
“There must be balance. There can be no light without dark.”

Several hours later, Spitfire sees Orc like humanoids the size of Ogres. Abigail informs them that they are Orogs.

Vetnik, Moira, Abigail and the Twins vote to slay the beasts and stay on the road.
Wous + Acolytes & Trisoll want to flee.
Lyssa casts the deciding vote to circle around them to avoid the Orogs and head off the road into the woods.
Trisoll casts Pass Without Trace and Hallucinatory Forest to help ensure their travel is safe. The party is wholly impressed with his ability to think on the fly, showing growth. The curve around the camp of Orogs and realize it’s a nest of at least 60 that they could’ve have walked into.

The second hour through the forest, the twins sense a number of creatures high in the trees. They begin to dive down and the party sees them: a dozen egg shaped creatures covered in black fur and razor sharp wings, a rat tail with a spur, and a bulging eye making up most of its body. They are a flock of Eyewings (11).

Inochi is first to act, casting bless over the party. Grunt takes out Hank and fires a pair of arrows, both of which strike at flying targets. As a Eyewing explodes, the viscous blue fluid splashes Lyssa and causes -2. Lyssa feels the burn and quickly wipes away the goo. Grum fires off two arrows with the longbow and drops one. Moira howls at the creatures and cuts through one of the Eyewings, cutting it in half. Aela casts protection from evil on Vetnik. Abigail pulls out her glass sword and is extremely well trained with it, cutting into the air with fluidity. She strikes and cuts one down and avoids and avoids any splash back. Lyssa raises her hand and incinerates a pair of Eyewings with a jet of burning hands. The remaining Eyewings zip down and the first strikes at Inochi with the ocular goo. She dodges the squirt. Gish is the second to be targeted and is shot by the eye poison though, and succumbs to the poison. He shrieks and Aela cries out for her brother. A third Eyewing strikes at Gish and covers him in more poison. Aela watches helplessly as Gish cries out in pain, but he continues to hang on. Grunt is next to be attacked but his hood provides coverage. Moira is the last to be hit by the poison but shrugs off the pain, avoiding the poisonous effect. Gish casts cure light wounds on himself, bringing him away from the brink. Vetnik slashes into the air. Thom fires off a wooden arrow and slays another Eyewing. Trisoll casts Light on the eye of one of the Eyewing and watches as it spirals to the ground.

Vetnik thrusts his sword into the air and stabs at one of the Eyewing, and with his second action, bring his sword to the ground and stabs through the blinded Eyewing. While swinging, he gets more accustom to the ease of the glass sword. Wous rides over to the last Eyewing, flapping around on the ground, and crushes it beneath the hoof of his steed.

“Do you find these often in the wood, Abigail?” Moira
“Yes, they frequent the forests at night.”
“What else do we have to fear out here?” Vetnik
“Let’s pray we don’t encounter a demon bear. I suggest we get out of the forest and make camp.”

Abigail leads them out of the wood and back towards the road. Aela scolds her brother about being more careful while casting cure light wounds.

During Aela and Gish’s watch, Aela wake the party frantically after Gish disappears. Grunt spots tracks, 8 legged ones.
“What has 8 legs?” Thom
“Spiders.” Lyssa
“Do you have spiders large enough to take a man?” Vetnik to Abigail
“Yes. Let’s hope he was taken by one with paralyzing venom and not one that kills.”

Wous goes to comfort Aela, but she pushes him away. Aela goes to Grunt for consolation. He protests at first but warms to her after seeing her pleading look, but only briefly before cutting her off.

Thom cuts a pair of bodies down from webs suspended in the trees. Vetnik rides up and catches in perfect time. The clamor of his hooves awakens a giant spider. It is a different breed of spiders though than the ones they’ve encountered before, with bony plates and sharp ridges on its legs. (Sword Spiders). Grunt hits it with energy arrows and while it doesn’t do any visible damage, it doesn’t shake the creature. Trisoll casts ‘speak with animal’ and communes with it:

“Spiders! Give us the man and we will leave you without further harm.”
“You take from us. Our food. Ours!”
“We leave you the deer, this one is ours! We mean you no harm.”

While Trisoll pleads with the spiders, Aela begins to cut her brother free. Wous asks Vetnik what to do and he advises him to wait.

Abigail doesn’t wait though and rushes towards the spider, cutting into it.
“So much for diplomacy” Lyssa quips.

Vetnik sighs and rides behind, charging with his own glass sword. The first swing connects and shakes him, but the second swing is unsteady, tripping up but not falling. Wous strikes out with his shillelagh.

Aela shrieks in fury and conjures a flaming sword, and rushes forward but misses in her fury. Grum sneak attacks admist the chaos and sneak attacks with a glass sword through the lower abdomen, spilling its innards.

“Make haste, before more arrive!” Grum cries out and together they race off before any more spiders can arrive. Gish pleads with Aela to forgive him.

“No one goes anywhere without another!” Thom commands.

The last shift is taken by Trisoll. He sees a group of squirrels rummaging through their things, but instead of shooing them off, he communes with them. They warn him to stay safe in the camp.

In the morning, they set off with two new squirrel companions (Fodo and Bogo). After 8 hours of travel, Wous spies something in the grass. He calls out to Abigail.

“It’s a head.” Abigail
“Of?” Thom
“Hard to tell. Humanoid.” Abi

Thom parks up by Abigail and inspects the head. He takes a stick and turns it over and as it rolls over, it has a featureless face, flesh pulled over shapes. Suddenly its flesh shrinks around the skull beneath and it takes on Thom’s face. Strange, milky wings grow out of the side of its head and it flaps away.

“I’m not sure what that is, but that’s not good.”
Grunt attempts to fire, but misses. Grum fires it but when he hits the arrow bounces off harmlessly. Lyssa tries to hit with two metal tipped arrows before attempting to cast Hold Monster. All attempt fail. Frustrated, Thom casts Ice Storm on the fleeing head but the head continues to zip through. Grunt rushes in to take two more shots with Hank and fells it. The head falls, faceless and wingless.

Thom asks Moira and Trisoll to be mindful of nearby undead. Lyssa Mind Scans the thing and finds it devoid of sentience and once Grunt says he wants nothing to do with it, Lyssa puts it in a sack for later exploration.

An hour later, they come upon the ruins of Melgas.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Group figures out how to conceal metals. They bag the armor and coins into two sacks and Vetnik applies two dusts of disappearance. They agree that once they reach the edge of Corrin that they’ll place the sacks with the demihuman acolytes into Leomund’s Tiny Hut (c/o Thom).

4 hours into their travel, they take a break from their ride to enjoy some lunch. In that hour, they finish setting up camp and as they wrap, Gish spots something in the distance. A building of some kind, overrun with the ivy of ruin, complete with a dilapidated tower. Lyssa sends her owl, Banshee, out to scout ahead and it sees clearly that they are the ruins of a short guard tower. A portion of the roof has caved in and inside is a skeleton amidst the rubble. Lyssa commands it to check the corpse and Banshee pries a strange wand from its hand. Banshee delivers the wand to her mistress and Lyssa casts detect magic and it tests positive. She petitions Thom to identify and he reveals that it is a wand of lightning. Lyssa pockets it, despite worries from the rest of the group as to where it was found.

Wand of Lightning has 89 charges.

Thom reveals and Lyssa thanks both him and Banshee (moreso the latter, she seems to be more affectionate towards her animal companion.) Suddenly, Lyssa notices a hovering orb of light levitating from the tower and begins to quickly float down towards the party.

Inohie casts bless over the party immediately. Trisoll ponders on what the light could be while Moira retrieves Starstrike out of the invisible bag. As the light nears, Lyssa notes that the shape begins to take on a humanoid shape. Lyssa attempts to cast hold monster over it, but it resists. Lyssa commands Trisoll to banish the being as it forms a hand creeping out towards her. Trisoll beseeches Trithereon and they watch as the shape returns to its original orb shape and retreats back to the keep.

They get back on the road. Hour 6 the party sees a row of shadows pass over their head. They look up and see a trio of Geldans (bird men) flying through the sky. The bird men clearly see them but have no interest. They zip over their heads and jet off into the distance.

The rest of the journey is uneventful. On the cusp of the forest, they see a hill beyond. At points in the clearing, they see 12 ft high walls closing the gaps. Gates in the center of each clearing and towers that peak above the walls. Thom sets up Leomund’s Tiny Hut and places 5 of the 6 acolytes and their metal goods. Vetnik and Moira venture into the city of Corrin unarmed – save for Vetnik’s sword, which he places in his bag of holding. Thom offers to take Moira’s sword and conceals it. Moira is hesitant, not wanting to leave behind her father’s shield. Vetnik talks her down and she concedes. Lyssa and Trisoll pocket their rings and brooches. Grunt agrees to stay behind to watch over the loot (despite having to babysit the acolytes.)

They near the gates and notice the gates themselves crafted from wood and stone. Thom and Vetnik lead the party pass the city gates. They see a church to Beory housed in a large tree. Lyssa suggests that they check the church out first to see if there’s a Way of the World inside (as precaution just in case things pop off.) The group agrees to split up: Lyssa and Trisoll go to the church while the others split off in search of a market or exchange.

Twins head SW, the couple heads SE, Grunt heads west, Strom heads east, Trisoll and Lyssa head to the Church.

The twins pass Thethe’s Philters, a potion shop. To the right is the constable’s office and jail. They’re heading directly to an inn called The Sage’s Cellar. Thom notices everything is written in slightly altered common. Thom tunes his ears to try and detect certain dialects and notices it is slightly altered. He hears a man’s voice most loudly, advertising Simon’s Strolling Salamundi (a meat cart.) They also notice a church to Mystra. They decide to go to Trueshaft’s Bowery. They are greeted by a beautiful brunette and introduces herself as Idaya Trueshaft.

“What do I owe myself the visit of such handsome gentlemen?” She says flirting (a male voice exhales from the back in protest)
“You are Trueshaft?” Thom asks.

They notice that all the weapons are crafted out of wood and glass-tipped arrows, “hardened in the traditional manner” she informs with a wink.

Thom asks if she’d like to buy his longbow. She studies every inch of it. He informs her that it came from the far, far East. She offers 15 glass eyes and 2 emerald chips for them, and reveals 15 small, round polished marble like gems and two smooth chips of raw emerald.

A good-looking, one-eyed blonde man steps out of the back and it’s revealed that he is the chief weaponsmith. Idaya shows the twins to a small case underneath the counter and reveals the contents, an arrow with a metal arrowhead.

“How much do you value that as?”
“50 ruby chips it cost me!”

After selling his bow, Idaya offers the twins a chance for a little shoot off which both oblige to. Another member of staff, Bettina, rushes out into the back lot and sets up bolts and targets. Thom fires first and makes target (barely). Grum takes a shot and shows his brother up.

“I see who the true bowman is in the family.” Idaya jokes before showing them both up and firing a bolt straight into the bullseye with near perfect form.

At the church of Beory, Trisoll and Lyssa find it decorated in a similar fashion as the one in Greyhawk. They are greeted by an acolyte. Lyssa is quiet and allows Trisoll to speak on their behalf.

“This is a church of Beory, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, my dad, Zemilay Lyks, you may’ve heard of him—“
“No. I’m not familiar.”
“Oh. Strange. Do you have a Ways of the World here?”
“I… Pardon me? Are you well sir?”
“Oh, uh”

Lyssa tugs his tunic and motions to the door.

“Where do we go now?”

South they see Thethe’s Philters. To the west they see constables. To the east they see a residential area of visible affluence. They head into the potion shop and meet Thethe, an unusual looking being who appears to be Drow. The sight of a dark skinned elf shakes Trisoll. Thethe looks up from the beaker he’s tinkering with and welcomes them warmly.

“Ummm… hi. I’m Trisoll and this is…” Trisoll turns to Lyssa to confirm identity.
“You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“I’m from Bertall, yes, but I’ve been here for many years”

He reveals himself as Bath’da’krah (Night Elf). He’s crafting an oil of disenchantment. He asks what Lyssa knows of potions and magic, and after some back and forth, he questions whether or not she is a “spurgist”. Wanting to blend in, she confirms while not truly understanding the term. He reveals that a spurgist is a sellspell, one who casts their magicks for a cost.

Lyssa and Thethe arrange to barter: Lyssa offers up foreign potion ingredients for customized potions, oils, and poisons and in exchange, he retains a portion of them for his own archives.

Vetnik and Moira head SE and pass Thethe’s Philter and Trueshaft Bowery followed by a strange religious institution. Written in common it says: TEMPLE OF PALADINE. The pair look to each other, both confused. Beyond that they see The Badger’s Inn.

On their way back to the front gate, Vetnik and Moira run into Trisoll and Lyssa outside of the Philtery.

Lyssa notices a man attempting to cast a spell with concealed hands. He is trailed by a woman with silver hair. He disappears and she curses, slamming a hard glass sword from hilt to tip down onto the ground. Vetnik and Trisoll trail the woman while Lyssa and Moira follow slowly behind.

Inside the pub, Vetnik and Trisoll introduce themselves to the silver haired warrior who reveals herself rather tersely as Abigail Greenray. As Vetnik and Abigail continue to discuss why Abigail was trailing the magic user, Trisoll fetches the pair of women from outside.

Once inside, Vetnik notices Abigail tense up at the sight of the cloaked Lyssa. She confronts her, sensing magical energy radiating from her.

“And who is this?”
“She is our companion.”
“She reeks of magic.”
Lyssa approaches, ready to defend her honor.

“What are you? Magi or Spurgist?”
In an attempt to blend in, Lyssa recalled the Spurgist being mentioned by Thethe and replies as such. Abigail quickly draws her blade and, despite protesting from Vetnik and the others, pushes through to strike at Lyssa. Lyssa attempts to subdue her with a quick levitation spell, and while it appears to work at first (lifting her inches off of the ground), the party watches as the amulet around her neck glows and seems to absorb the magic cast upon her. Dropping back to her feet, Abigail swings her glass sword at Lyssa after revealing herself as a magehunter. In a fit of retaliation, she whips out her Blackmoor mechanical dagger and fires. She realizes her mistake too late and fires it, missing the target. Vetnik rushes in and blows sleep dust into the face of the magehunter. Lyssa watches as a swarm of men try to retrieve her metal blade from off the ground, and thinking fast, she casts Alternate Reality and takes the party back in time just before she revealed the metal dagger. She stops herself but in doing so, she is slashed by Abigail’s glass sword.

-12hp for Lyssa
- Fireball is lost temporarily

Lyssa urges Vetnik to hit her with the dust, he does so (confused that he was already planning on doing so) and she succumbs to the sleep. Vetnik quickly carries her off and the others follow behind, much to a confused audience of bar patrons.

The twins come upon Fallon’s Stable and Woodshop. Adjacent to it is 8 stables, several of which are occupied. Inside, wooden armor and weapons are being crafted. Grum has a bone dagger crafted and the pair set off to find the others. After leaving the woodshop, they come upon the rest of the party gathered together around an unconscious Abigail. Lyssa panics, feeling one of her spells literally ripped from her mind. She casts Strength upon herself in an attempt to wrest the sword from Abigail to break it, but Vetnik proves stronger still and keeps her at bay. The commotion causes Abigail to come to, who wakes with equal anger. Both women appear to have a similar stubbornness about them. Despite this, cooler heads prevail. They agree to help Abigail track down the mage, now known as Jerinden Korvach, and she assures Lyssa that her magic will return to her once rested (though if she could, she’d cut the magic straight out of her if she had the chance.) Abigail reveals that the man she was pursuing had a hand in the disappearance of her lover, Maja, and that he is involved with a nefarious organization known as the Circle of Bones.

The party + Abigail return to the Badger’s Inn for a night of rest. All enjoy a dinner and drinks, and Trisoll probes Abigail for more information on the ways of the new world (the breakdown of currency especially). Thom and Lyssa discuss ways to make money and Thom advises that if she wants to sell any of her metal arrowheads, she needs to do so smartly as to not draw suspicion to her and the group. Abigail offers to loan the party a small cache of weapons if they help to find Jerendin, a Moon elf. She alerts them to the dense part of town, the Rockston neighborhood (aka The Sludge). Grum agrees to go with Abigail ISO the Moon elf. The pair set off, while Lyssa sends Banshee to trail them. Unbeknownst to Abigail, Thom also trails the party under the spell of invisibility.

After a couple hours, Grum finds the spurgist due to his vanity (his refusal to remove his magical rings, of which he wears many.) They corner him into his safe house after dispelling the magical ward guarding him from them. Abigail subdues him and threatens to mate with him before turning him over to the Sun elves if he refuses to cooperate. Pleading, Jerendin gives up the land that the Circle is: Piraqua. She releases him with the promise that, if found to be lying, she will unleash all manner of violent revenge against him.

“He has violated the terms of his contract by revealing the Circle’s location. There is no way he would go back to them. It would mean death. So, fuck him!”

After Abigail and Grum leave, Thom tosses the rest of the shack and finds a communication from the Circle citing a different city as their base of operations: Melgas. He also finds 12 gp (eq) 12 sp (eq) 13 cp (eq).

WORK IN PROGRESS…

The Heaven’s Heart hovered in an open, now-cloudless sky above an ocean new and vast. The water’s shimmering surface was dotted with several small isles, with a larger coast off in the distance. All those on board (save the Spelljammer’s pilot, Travaren) stood together on the ship’s upper deck, arrested by the quiet beauty of it all – even the grass on the lands below seemed stained in the indigo hue that blanketed the sky. The only heavenly bodies that cut through the monochrome skyline were the stars that clustered and flickered above, all of which were dwarfed but the three moons that glowed. One carried with it a faint, similar silver light that those from Oerth seemed familiar with, but the other two were marvelous and unknown. The missionaries whispered amongst themselves, pointing out the constellations they knew and pondering about those they didn’t. Their wonder was infectious to a degree: Moira kept Vetnik’s hand in hers and they scanned the heavens together, with Moira pointing out constellations to him she knew herself while wondering out loud what the others could represent; Grum paced the deck in order to get better sense of where North could be while Trisoll blithely followed, his eyes fixed on the sky. Feelingly mysteriously rejuvenated, Thom quickly pulled out his sketchbook and began to fluidly map out of the three-mooned sky and the islands beneath him on paper. Grunt remained disinterested but noticed from beneath the edge of his hood the occasional glances Aela (the half-Elf missionary) kept sending him.

As Thom glanced frenetically from page to landscape and back, he noticed Lyssa leaning against the edge of the deck. He continued to observe her as he sketched and watched as she succumbed to a peculiar daze. He paused from sketching and watched as her posture became more fluid and relaxed, with even her usually tense countenance relaxing as she leaned her head back up towards the sky. It was almost as if she could hear music that no one else could, a song that seemed to lure her upwards. Thom felt the space around Lyssa rumble with magical vibrations and watched as her body was overcome with an aura of red energy. Without warning, she jetted off into the sky in a streak of crimson light with more speed and power than either she or her companions had seen from her before. As she soared higher, the aura around her began to take on a spherical shape. A mile above the Spelljammer, Thom and the others watched as the aura exploded into an undulating rhythm of radiant red fields that cycled from the mage’s body. Thom was captivated by the unique sight and began to sketch the shapes she saw glowing up him. He watched as the fields began to flicker, faster and faster and faster, until all of a sudden they vibrated so wildly that they released a siren’s pitch so piercing that it cut into the ears of all who could hear below.

Thom was first to be subdued by the sound as the screech drilled its way into his sensitive half-Elven ears. He dropped his journal and crayons onto the deck and fell to his knees, clasping his gloved hands over his ears while cursing the sound. The screeching was unyielding and soon the entire party was covering their ears in a panic, shouting at both Lyssa and each other for an end to it. Moira watched as the acolytes huddled together to protect themselves. On the opposite side, Captain Durbin struggled to inch his way across the deck to aid his crew of Gnomes, all three of whom lay writhing on the deck overcome by the sonic assault. Grum seemed to manage the sound better than most (certainly better than his brother was). With his ears covered, he rushed beside Trisoll.

“DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO MAKE THIS STOP?” Grum shouted, making sure to mouth and enunciate every word pointedly for the partially deafened cleric.

Trisoll frantically nodded his head before bowing it, closing his eyes in an attempt to concentrate. Grum watched as Trisoll muttered a prayer he couldn’t decipher, turning his attention back and forth from him and his suffering brother. Suddenly, the siren stopped. The air was quiet once more. Trisoll and Grum cautiously unclasped their ears in unison and looked to each other.

“It worked!” Trisoll exclaimed. He noticed though, that as his mouth moved, the words failed to escape his throat. Trisoll looked up to the sky and watched as Lyssa continued to float above them, the sphere of violent magical energy now calm around her.

Grum, meanwhile, rushed to his brother’s side and helped him unclasp his ears. He saw in his brother’s eyes the welling of painful tears and bloodshot vessels – but took care not to point it out. He simply patted his brother on the back before he took up his brother’s journal and crayon. Thom watched as Grum flipped the page and quickly scribbled a note down to him: ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? Thom nodded his head before reaching out for his journal.

WHAT HAPPENED? Thom asked in conté.

Grum snapped his fingers and pointed them at Trisoll, who was now helping the others to their feet along with Moira and Vetnik. Thom and Grum confronted the cleric, pointing at Thom’s note. Trisoll pantomimed out the following: he had prayed to Trithereon to silence Lyssa and, in doing so, blanketed her with a field of silence that was now afflicting them as well. The trio of men looked up and watched Lyssa hover above them, oblivious to the torment she had wrought upon them just moments prior. Trisoll placed his fingers in his mouth as if to whistle up to her but before blowing, he remembered the prayer that had been answered, and wiped his spit-tipped fingers off onto his tunic.

They were at an impasse. They could not call out to their companion without breaking the prayer, but doing so would surely release the horrid sound upon them again. Rejoined with Grunt, Moira and Vetnik, the party looked on deck for things that could get the dazed mage’s attention. Grunt even drew Hank and offered up an unerring arrow as an option. It was an option Moira was quick to dismiss, however. Thom guided a crayon between his fingers as he struggled to come up with a way to get the mage’s attention. Then, it hit him; in between his fingers, he snapped the crayon in two. He tucked one half of it away in his pocket and readied to throw the other half. He glared up at his companion, stood back, and launched it into the air. The conté half torpedoed up into the air, shot straight through Lyssa’s radiating sphere and landed against the mage’s brow. The collision jolted Lyssa back into consciousness. Her eyes burst open to reveal an intense, fiery glow as she scanned the area around her. Looking beneath, she saw her companions staring up at her with pained, frustrated expressions. As she began to mouth a reply, she too realized she had been silenced. She caressed her throat and struggled to release a sound, panicked by the loss of her voice.

Thom flipped the page of his journal, retrieved the half of his crayon, and quickly scribed a note in big, blocky lettering. It commanded:

STOP FLYING

Lyssa took a moment to read the short and terse note. As she did, she could feel the currents of magical energy expanding and contracting around her in ways she couldn’t control. The symptoms of a wild surge, no doubt.

Lyssa drops the fly spell and torpedoes towards the deck of the ship. Vetnik and Grum rush to catch her and both insure a safe landing.

“Does this happen often?” Strom to Moira.
“Often? No. Seldom, perhaps,” she responds.

The party discusses their connection to the magic. Thom reveals he feels a stronger connection but is fine otherwise. Lyssa, on the other hand, continues to display a relaxed blitheness that’s out of character for her. Thom takes note of her relaxed demeanor and attributes this daze of hers to something in the new world. Trithereon fells nothing. Grombor urges every one to strap in below deck.

The land is lush, with blue-tinted fields of tall grass. The air is fresh and sweet, with the sound of birds chirping. Jarbo skitter away as the Spelljammer descends. Vetnik sees a small, bespectacled man run through the grass, looking up at the ship in absolute wonder. In his hand is a glass beaker, which drops to the ground.

Once on the ground, Vetnik notices he looks much like a Gnome, but more refined. Grombor skittishly urges the party off of the ship. Lyssa stumbles toward the cockpit and observes as Travaran struggles with his star maps, unconcerned with outside distractions.

Vetnik and Moira are the first to touch the new land. The mysterious man falls to the ground in marvel. His eyes dart around, glancing at the party’s belts.

“Are you gods? Kings? Is this your queen?”
“Perhaps one day, but—“
“Where did you get all that metal?”
“Sir, please steady yourself.”

“My name is Albar Daxif. I saw you fly in from the tower. You’re not kings, not gods?”
“We might be,” Lyssa muttered under her breath jokingly – a characteristic she was never predisposed to.
“Come, take that off. Hide all those things!”
“You mean my armor?”
“Yes. You don’t understand. I’ve never seen so much metal—you invite great peril if anyone sees that!”

Walking through the overgrown plains towards the tower, a quilled coyote snacks on running jarbo, dragging its squeaking body into the night shadow of the bush.

Heading northeast, they come upon an observatory tower built into the side of a hill. He leads them up to a door that opens up with a series of keys for every lock.

“Welcome to Daxif Tower!”

Lyssa questions the man about elves in Kellagha. She and Vetnik coerce the man to take some of Dablova’s Serenity by way of Grunt. Once calm, he and Vetnik begin to discuss his identity: an alchemist and astrologer.

Jen’mar’kah (sun elves, warriors)
Bri’ja’kah (moon elves, scholars)
Geldans (bird men)

After lengthy discussions, analyzing the vision Dablova imparted onto the group, Albar assists in setting up camp for them. Strom and Wous insist on staying up to keep watch. The male gnome (in an attempt to impress the female gnome). Lyssa overheards Aela fawn over Grunt to the female Gnome (which disgusts Lyssa).

Once Aela realizes Grunt has a shift, she is eager to volunteer to take watch with him.

Before shifts begin, Lyssa and Strom argue over the semantics of their mission and she calls them out for blindly going along with the church’s orders without even realizing a church had already been established in Kellagha already. Moira is tickled by Lyssa’s candor, feeling similarly confrontational towards the church as of late.

Trisoll and Wous take first shift and get chummy. Trisoll assures Wous that Lyssa means he and his crew no particular harm. Wous confides in Trisoll that he wasn’t a respected dwarf and sought out Cortox as a means for a new life. No incident.

Grunt and Aela take next shift. Grunt sits in silence, picking at the dirt with an arrow. Aela scoots beside him. “Well stranger, we have a shift together. How fortuitous.”
“Whatever.”
“Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not angry, I’m indifferent.”
“Do you not like… women?”
“I don’t like anybody!”
“Release the anger. Give in to love…” Aela leans in to kiss him but before she can press her lips against him, they hear the rustling of a pack of six large wolves with jet black fur. Aela spots them first with her nightvision.

“Something is coming!” Aela cried out, using the disturbance as a means to grab hold of Grunt. Grunt struggled to release himself of her at first, but noticed something about the movement in the bush. It was a disturbance far too large to be a mere flock of jarbo. Grunt pivoted around to wake the others while also positioning Aela in front to use her back as a shield if necessary.

As the others slowly began to rise from their sleep, Grunt noticed the light from the fire reflect on several small sets of eyes that cut through the grass and reflected the light of the fire back at them, disappearing and reappearing several times over. Grunt had seen this same behavior in other animals. They were being scouted, circled, sized-up as a meal. Suddenly, the rustling of the bushes in front of Grunt stopped and the gaze of wandering eyes could be seen no more. Grunt and the others held their breaths, suspended by the unknown and half-alertness. All of a sudden, Aela squeezed her arms tight around Grunt’s neck as she let out a yelp.

“By Cortox, what are they?” Aela shuddered. Grunt turned his head around; he could see the shadows of three beasts slink out of the bush towards the edge of the camp, the torchlight glowing against their glassy amber eyes. Grunt could barely make out the blackened shapes.
“What do you see?” Grunt whispered.
“Black!”Aela relayed back, burying herself deeper into Grunt’s shoulder. “Black like dire wolves, but their fur’s—“

Before she could finish detailing the strange creatures’ to Grunt, a pair of beasts made themselves known to the party by leaping up out of the bush to attack. What emerged was a foreign and horrific sight: indeed, they were as big and black as dire wolves, but lining their fur were rows of long ebony spines that laid against their bodies. As Aela shrieked, Thom quickly drew his longsword from out of his scabbard and slashed away at the pair of leaping things across their bellies. Unarmored, Moira drew Starstrike and quickly rushed to Thom’s aid. In her rush, the first of her swings missed, but the second cut into one of the beasts, keeping it at bay for a moment. Trisoll scoured the campsite only half-awake, frantically chanting for a blessing to blanket the party with as they battled the strange pseudo-wolves. Lyssa shot up out of her sleeping bag and extended her hand outward towards the oncoming beasts. She aimed her hand and concentrated on sending the magic in her body through her fingers to release a series of magic missiles. Her intent proved weaker than her control however as Lyssa felt the rush of energy surge through her entire body and expand outwards uncontrollably. Lyssa put her hand in front and could see an aura surrounding her arm made of waves of translucent, multi-colored energy. Her signature bolts of energy coursed through the shimmering waves. Lyssa was transfixed by the effect and watched as the waves of energy snuffed out and absorbed her crimson signatures. It was an effect she had never seen before, and one that only lasted a moment. She looked out and saw a pause overtake the camp-turned-battleground. Sparkling wisps of red energy briefly fluttered around the mouths and throats of both friend and foe alike before billowing up the noses and mouths of those engaged in battle — unbeknownst to anyone but herself.

Thom momentarily had eyes on his magical companion and watched as the prismatic field surrounding her shimmer and flicker before disappearing. He had little time to ponder the strange effect though, as his observation was interrupted by a sudden and intense compulsion bubbling his throat. The bubbling erupted from his mouth in an endless and exhausting series of hiccups! He did his best to steel himself but could not contain the compulsion. His eyes scanned the campground and he noticed that he was not alone. Not only were his companions overcome with the same affliction, but the attacking pack of beasts were as well, barely able contain themselves from yelping! Everyone, that was, except Lyssa, who stood stoically in observation.

Vetnik, unable to compose himself, quickly scanned the campground just as Thom had done and noticed the same. Still overcome with uncontrollable hiccupping, he scowled back at Lyssa before rushing at the leader of the pack with his blade drawn, drawing blood from two of the beasts. Grunt struggled to maintain his aim with Hank, overcome by not only his magical compulsion, but with the hiccupping half-Elf Aela clinging to him for protection. He fired off two arrows but neither found their targets. The inability to breath from the onslaught of hiccups only seemed to anger the pack of beasts more. After being fired at by Grunt, one of the wolflike creatures lunged at the scout. Just as its front paws touched back down upon the ground, the beast seemed to choke on its own hiccup and stumble to the ground beside Grunt. A second creature leaped over its pack member’s body and charged at Wous, but the SPECIES proved more nimble than expected darting out of the creature’s way in the knick of time. As Thom dodged a third beast, an injured fourth sought revenge against its attacker: Moira! From behind her it attacked, and just as she spun around to defend herself, the beast cinched its jaws into the paladin’s inner elbow. As she bent her arm to squeeze the beast into the headlock, she watched as several smaller, finer black quills burst from its furry muzzle and burrowed through her sleeve into her skin before retreating back into the creature’s skull. Strom took up his axe and attempted to cut the creature down, but before he could land a blow, a second creature leaped up and sunk its fangs into the SPECIES hand. Before allowing it to launch its quills into his arm, Strom quickly kicked the beast back. Both he and the creature shook off the respective attacks before staring each other down. The creature appeared to almost grin at Strom, as if knowing something wicked. Strom dared to take a step closer and as he did, the beast barked before bolting. A second creature darted across the party’s sleeping bags towards Moira (who was still reeling from the bite in her arm). Strom watched as the beast pounced onto Moira’s back and clamped down upon her shoulder with its frothing jaws. Its bite was followed with the emergence of rows of fine, black spines that pierced the flesh of her back. Moira seized up in instant pain, but before she could cry out for aid, her body sunk to the ground. Her glassy-eyed expression was frozen in panic as the pseudo-wolf stood upon her back, triumphantly howling before gnawing at the wound it had left while the second beast circled her paralyzed body. Vetnik rushed to his love, determined that nothing would come between them. He stomped across the campsite, XXXXXXXXXX. As another beast leaped up and attempted to attack, Vetnik grabbed the feral hound by its throat and tossed it across the campsite like a disobedient pup. As Vetnik charged ahead, both Wous and Grum set their sights on the apparent leader of the pack. Fine strands of silver fur shot through its ink-black coat, denoting its age, while its size seemed to dwarf the other five beasts in his pack. Wous vainly swiped at the pack leader but the hiccups that afflicted him also seemed to disrupt his aim. Grum was a much more seasoned shot however, drawing his longbow and firing a pair of arrows into the grizzly beast’s hide! The howl of the pack leader snapped Lyssa out of her momentary daze. She watched the wisps of red magic escape the maw of the pack leader as it cried out in pain, wisps that soon multiplied as they escaped the mouths and noses of those around her and evaporated into the air above.

With the curse apparently lifted, Lyssa shook off the lingering effects of the wild surge and refocused her energies. She immediately thrust her hand forward and from her fingertips exploded two magic missiles. Before Vetnik could fell the beasts tormenting his lover, Lyssa’s magic missiles torpedoed past him and collided into the bodies of the creatures, leaving behind two smoking corpses. Vetnik glared back at Lyssa and huffed (no doubt perturbed by the prevalent wild surges she had been subjecting the party to since arriving in Kellagha). He had more important matters at hand though, and quickly tossed aside the corpses of the slain pseudo-wolves before taking Moira up into his arms. Trisoll, now fully alert, stood to attention with his staff in hand. He did his best to swipe at the beasts but they proved too swift to hit for him. Wous took up his hammer once more and did his best to bring it down upon the head of the pack leader. The beast, in an arrogant display of agility, merely sidestepped out of the way of Wous’ swing and watched as the hammer collided into the dirt beside him. The pack leader fixed its gaze onto Wous and snarled, but before he could snap at the acolyte, he saw the shimmer of silver cut through his field of vision followed by the sting of a cut across the side of its neck. Before the pack leader could turn its head ‘round, he felt a second stinging pressure surge down the side of its body. Its expression was suspended much in the same way Moira’s had been: wide, glassy eyes and mouth agape in shock. The feeling was fleeting, as Thom quickly yanked his silver longsword from out of its belly. Its eyes freely rolled back into its skull as it tipped over onto the ground, a thin trail of oozing viscera stringing from belly to blade. Thom quickly wiped the blood from his sword on the quilled hide of the slain pack leader before dashing back to the campsite with the others.

Upon seeing their leader gored, a trio of pseudo-wolves wised up and began to make their retreat back into the dark bush. Grum, still upset that his rest had been disturbed, drew back two more arrows and fired them off as they fled. Whether or not they hit he could not tell, but he hoped it would send the message that neither he nor his friends were easy prey. Taking a page from his master, Grunt began to draw his own bow and prepared to knock a pair of arrows. Just as he raised Hank to eye level, a shriek of joy came from behind, shattering his concentration:

“You saved me!” It was Aela, tearful and melodramatic with gratitude. She continued, “my brave, hooded hero!”

Before he could dart out of the way, or even sheath his bow, he felt her thin, willowy arms wrap around his chest from behind with unexpected strength.
“Unhand me, girl!” Grunt hissed as he tried to wriggle out of her grasp. Using the tail end of Hank, he managed to pry her arms open enough for him to force himself out of her embrace. Dusting himself off, he glanced at her from under the safety of his hood. She stood there, eyes wide with adoration.
“What?” he asked, careful not to look up at her. She said nothing in response, but he watched as her mouth tightened with a smile.

Vetnik kept his sword on the ground beside him as he tended to Moira’s frozen body. The paralysis that took hold of her was as swift as it was potent. After turning her body over, Vetnik noticed that Moira’s breathing had become exceedingly strained within a matter of minutes. Vetnik feared that the poison had already begun to make its way into her lungs where it would paralyze her lungs, stopping her breathing altogether. Strom quickly rushed over without provocation and dropped to his knees to examine the fallen paladin. Vetnik held tight to her hand as Strom lifted her head gently up off of the ground and placed it in his lap. He gently examined the bites to the arms and shoulder as Vetnik continued to reassuringly massage her hand, muttering to her softly that everything would “be alright, just hang on.”

“Moira!” a familiar voice cried out in shock. Both men lifted their eyes away from Moira to see Lyssa standing at a safe distance from the three bodies huddled together. Before probing any further, Lyssa searched the faces of both Vetnik and Strom for permission. They said nothing in reply, but the look in their eyes was mutual in its expression. Immediately, she could tell her presence was unwanted. Though eager to help her friend, Lyssa knew Vetnik’s temperament far too well. For Moira’s sake, she fired only a frustrated glance back at her companions before retreating back to the others, who were busy doing some examinations of their own. As Lyssa stomped away, Vetnik and Strom resumed caring for Moira. Vetnik kept her hand in his as Strom closed his eyes and lowered his head down towards hers. Softly he began to beseech Cortox to guide His Paladin back to health.

The others took stock of the foreign corpses that now littered their campsite. Despite having never seen them before, Grunt examined the beasts with the same efficacy as he would a regular wolf. His scout’s intuition guided him through the anatomy of the beasts, which was not too dissimilar to the wolves found on Oerth. He did take notice of two startling differences though, as he explored the large wounds left by Thom’s longsword: nuanced musculature that seemed to will the quills into action through reflex alone, and the source of the poison itself. In the throat of the slain pack leader he found rows of small, fleshy sacs threaded together with blackened webs of veins, all of which contained the paralyzing venom. Though most had been mangled by Thom in this beast, Grunt was still able to navigate the circulatory system that carried the venom through the body and up through the quills.

“Nasty beasts!” Grunt huffed as he continued his examination of the pack leader.
“Anything we can use?” Lyssa asked flatly from a few feet away, kneeling beside one of the beasts she had slain. He turned his head to face her, but before he could answer, he watched as Lyssa unsheathed one of her many daggers. Focused, she began to flay the pseudo-wolf’s hide, pulling out quills from its flesh and pocketing them for uses unspoken.
“Well,” Grunt began as he stood and stepped away from the corpse to watch Lyssa butcher hers. “The venom sacs on this one are shot to shit thanks to Thom. But we might be able to salvage from the others.”
“Where are they?”
Grunt kneeled down once more XXXXXXX
Thom and Grum wandered over and watched as Lyssa harvested the body of the creature. If their venom was strong enough to paralyze someone as strong as Moira, then surely they might be able to use the poison to their own advantage. The brothers kneeled down beside the last corpse and together began to pick it clean. With surgical precision, Thom sliced into the body of the beast and began to remove the venom sac while Grum diligently plucked what quills, claws and teeth he could.

It had been almost a half hour since Strom sat down to pray the poison out of Moira. The others had finished taking what they could from the beasts and now sat and watched, waiting for some sign of better health from Moira. The audience of friends and acolytes were tensely suspended in their anticipation. The missionaries sat together holding hands, muttering to themselves a prayer to Cortox while they watched Strom chant his own healing prayer. Behind the missionaries the rest of the party stood and watched with their blades and bows in hand should anything else try to interrupt the sanctity of the campsite. The night was still and quiet again. So still that even the birds and bugs that chirped so freely before were now silent, almost as if silent in hushed anticipation. The missionaries leaned in for news of their clergy members’ fate.

She comes to and stares him in his ice blue eyes.
“You saved me.”
He places an amulet of Protection v. Scrying into her palm.
“Why? Do you think he’ll come for me?”

The Black brothers take their shift and it’s uneventful.

“We cannot explore this new world unarmored. If earlier tonight was any indication of the sort of beasts we can expect to encounter here—“
Vetnik paused and looked to Moira, who began to arch herself forward, pulling her knees closer to her chest as if clamming up into a more secure position. Vetnik pressed his hand gently upon the base of her spine and slowly slid it up and down the length of her back in soothing, comforting strokes.
“What are we going to do?”
“Perhaps Lyssa has a spell,” Moira began to ponder. Before she could finish her sentence, she took notice of Vetnik’s discomfort with the idea and let the thought trail off.
“Lyssa? Bah! I haven’t witnessed her surge in weeks, but the moment we arrive here in Kellagha she seems to lose all control again.”
“You and I both know her powers don’t work the way other magic users do.”
“All the same, her magic put all of us at great risk tonight on more than one occasion. I won’t let that happen again. We will figure something out.”

Moira looked up at the sky and could see that the sky had begun to brighten ever so slightly. Dawn was presumably only an hour away, and with it would hopefully come some semblance of rest for both her and Vetnik.

“I should wake her. It’s almost time for her to take watch.”
“Perhaps it’s better that I stay up.”
“No, come. You need to rest too.”

Moira rose to her feet first before taking Vetnik’s hand into hers. They stood and crept back to their bedding together, but not before nudging Lyssa and Strom up from their sleep to take up the next watch. Making their way back to their sleeping bags, they realized their bodies were quiet. They were no longer a cacophony of rustling metal, and the lack of the familiar sound seemed to chill them similarly. The security of iron was now a liability in Kellagha. As they lay beside each other, Moira curved into the same shape as Vetnik, Moira and Vetnik tightened the embrace between them before shutting their eyes.

Strom and Lyssa make no effort to speak with each other during their watch. They welcome dawn and Strom is quick to wake the others, eager to have less intimidating company. Albar comes down from the tower and brings them hot tea. The party recounts their night and Albar informs them that what they encountered were venomous beasts known as quillwolves. He bids them safe travels on their way to Coren.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

The party works together to see if they can put the Spelljammer upright but are unable to dislodge the front leg from the earth as the night gets colder. None of the party knows much about the deserts. As night blankets the desert, the party takes refuge inside of the ship. The acolytes go around and heal the party. Trisoll tells Lyssa that he doesn’t have access to his prayers.

“Praise Cortox!” Aela says to Grunt. “Do you feel better, sir?”
“Whatever.”
“Your gruffness betrays a kindness.”

Vetnik paces outside with a torch. As granules of sand pass through the torch they create sparks of greenish hue. He looks to the star-covered sky and sees two moons high in the air, but both the moon and the stars do nothing to penetrate the vast blackness of the desert beyond. Vetnik sets off towards the darkness away from the Heaven’s Heart. He is unbothered by the cold but finds walking through the sandy surface difficult to navigate.

Pushing forward, the wind whips up harder and harder. The sands almost begin to pelt Vetnik 40ft away from the ship. He turns around and sloughs back to the ship but before he makes it back, the torch is blown out. The winds subdue him, and as he turns his head sideways, he sees a sidewinder cut through the dust cloud. At the forefront, he sees two wispy openings in the sand.

“SOMETHING’S COMING!” Vetnik calls out. As he cries out, the spiral smashes down to the earth far from Vetnik. As it crashes into the ground, Vortex rushes back towards the ship. He approaches towards the torch-lit crash site and sees Moira in the distance.

“Follow the sound of my voice!”
“I’m close!”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know! Something in the sand!”

Vetnik rushes to Moira and as the pair hurry back to the ship, the winds pick up and begin to beat down upon the crashed ship. Grombor and Strom join the party in facing off against the living sandstorm. Vetnik stares in strange vortex down and in his hesitation, the sand cyclone strikes at the knight with a funnel of spinning sand. The cyclone lifts him into the air. While caught in the cyclone, Vetnik attempts to strike twice but misses.

Strom attempts to conjure a dust devil, and enchants the dust into a 1ft tall cyclone. The mindless, pathetic thing charges at the monstrous cyclone and crashes into it. Grum pulls out his longbow and fires off two arrows; the first arrow penetrates the sand and he watches as it gets spit out, broken. Gromdor charges at the vortex with a double-bladed axe but misses. Trisoll attempts to bless the party but his prayer remains unanswered. Grunt is next and, with Hank used as a regular bow, he fires off a pair of arrows. Moira sees that Strom’s spells have worked, so she whispers a prayer to Cortox before hoisting her sword up and charging. She pierces the whirling surface of the thing. Thom follows her lead and charges with a longsword and short sword. After being struck, the cloud dust flees in retreat. (Dust Quasi-Elemental).

The Cortoxian priests surround the injured Vetnik and together heal him back to health. Together the party takes refuge inside The Heaven’s Heart. The rest of the night is uneventful. The metal and wood create a chilly cabin, so the party huddles together for warmth.

As the sun begins to rise, the desert heats up quickly. Moira and Vetnik quickly remove their armor as the others take off any extraneous uniform. Vetnik climbs on top of the ship as the sun rises and scans the desert horizon. Travaran confronts Lyssa.
“Please help me understand this so we may understand.”
Lyssa explains the ritual the Mages’ Guild performed in the desert, the destruction of the Eye of Null.

After being confronted, Lyssa reveals the details of her conversation to Thom.
“We should scout closer to dusk.” Thom recommends. “And once we get out of here, I’m giving the guild a piece of my mind!”

Vetnik catches a glint in the sand. He calls out below to the gnomes and party members doing their best to dig the front leg out of the earth. “I see something ahead!”

Lyssa and Grunt work to repair the leg. The gnomes bark at Grunt in Gnomish before realizing he doesn’t speak their language. With Grunt’s carpentry skills, they work together repair the broken leg. After repairing the leg, Lyssa helps to develop a pully system to yank the up out of the earth. After completion, they request Vetnik, Wous, Strom, Grombor, Grum, the trio of Gnomes, and Moira’s help to pull the rope.

Together, the party struggles to bring the Spelljammer up out of the earth. The supporting structure built by Grunt takes the brunt of the impact and together the ship is set back upright.

After cheering, the Dwarven captain brings them back to reality.
“Can you ask Cortox to make this thing fly?” Grum jokes to the acolytes.

Lyssa and a pair of the gnomes head out towards the glint. It is a shard of broken, iridescent glass. Lyssa stops and yells out to the others. “You were right!”

Thom summons Spitfire and has him pick up the shard and drop it before the party. Lyssa freaks out and backs away from the others while Grunt handles it. As they discuss what to do, Trisoll emerges from the ship and alerts the others of a band of 9 Thri-Kreen closing in on all sides of the ship. Grum and Grunt duck into the shadow cast by the ship while Vetnik sprinkles a dust of disappearing over himself before sprinkling it over Thom. Vetnik sneaks towards the band of scavengers and watches as they’re intrigued by the insectoid ship, clicking to each other in excitment.

Grunt eyes the leader of the pack from beneath the ship and calls a shot to hit the leader in the face. He lands the arrow into the Thri-Kreen’s face and watches as the arrow burrows through its head and fells the creature. Seeing the victory, Grum leaps from the shadows and stabs at one of the Thri-Kreen, cutting through its exoskeleton. He jams his second dagger into the creature’s skull and destroys it. Thom begins to sound the drums of battle, which only confuses the Thri-Kreen. Vetnik strikes quickly with two hits, felling a third beast.

Trisoll and Lyssa rush up to the deck of the ship. Vetnik slashes at another Thri-Kreen, delivering another crushing blow. Grum picks another target and stabs at a second Thri-Kreen with Lyn. He breaks the creature’s leg, shedding torrents of blackened green blood! Thom continues to drum while Moira admires her man at work, swooning over his barbarian from the safety of the bridge. Grunt fires a pair of arrows into another Thri-Kreen. The remaining Thri-Kreen strike back set their sights first onto Grum. It swings with two of its four arms and hits before sinking its poisonous mandibles into Grum’s shoulder. Thankfully, he resists against the paralyzing effects. A second Thri-Kreen attacks the unarmored Vetnik in the same manner. He is punched three times but is nimble enough to miss its bite. Grunt is attached, punched twice before being bitten. The party watches as he slumps to the ground, overtaken by paralyzation. Thom breaks from drumming and returns to visibility to strike at the Thri-Kreen, felling the injured one.

Thom quickly lunges at a fresh Thri-Kreen with his blades, stabbing at him twice and injuring it. Grum rushes after an untouched Thri-Kreen and fires off two arrows with focused accuracy. From above, Trisoll calls out: “I see dust in the distance!” Moira strains her eyes to see what’s in the distance. Lyssa shoots an arrow from up top into the Thri-Kreen biting into Grunt. Vetnik charges at a Thri-Kreen and cuts into it before hacking off its right leg, slaying it. One of the last the Thri-Kreen lashes out at Grum but Grum dances around the attacker, evading all of its attacks. The other Thri-Kreen stumbles in attacking Vetnik.

Trisoll squints and sees centaurs rushing down towards the fray. Thom takes on his brother’s attacker and cuts it down with two lightning fast strikes. Vetnik takes on the last of the Thri-Kreen and jams his blade into its thorax. Vetnik saunters over to the last Thri-Kreen and steps upon his neck, cracking it.

Just as Vetnik lifts Grunt off the ground over his shoulder, the centaurs ride up and thank them for killing the beasts. One centaur hands Vetnik a vial of liquid (smells like reeking fungal mess) and he pours it into Grunt’s mouth. Grunt begins feels his muscles begin to relax. Vetnik lowers Grunt back to the ground and introduces himself to the head of the pack.
“I am Vetnik Talthraudii.”
“Quill. We thank you again for dealing with these pests!”

Vetnik notices the centaurs look different, with golden olive skin and draped in ornamental sashes. “This is Belam, Coutan, and this is Trisoll.”
“Wait, what?” Trisoll says.
“My name is Trisoll.”
“Holy… my name is Trisoll too!”
“Our names are not the same” the centaur says with disdain. “We are nothing alike.”
“Why were you after them?”
“They’ve been raiding villages throughout the Dry Steppes. You’ve done us a great service. What is this great thing?”
Captain Drubin steps in defensively.

The party shows Quill the shard and explains what brought their ship down.

Thom and Lyssa flank Belam a mile outside of the area of effect until they’re awashed in their magic once more. Belam sits on the ground while Lyssa casts Mind Scan over him and digs through to pull imagery of Kanak. Belam gallops away with their request to fetch the others. They eventually see only the core party cross the horizon and close in. Vetnik and Moira lug their heavy metal armor in packs on their back. Lyssa casts Teleport and the party links arms and are engulfed in a radius of sparkling red energy before emerging before the strange village of Kanak. They take standard formation and head into the village.

They find a merchant who is ownership of indentured servants. Moira uses her feminine wiles to woo the merchant into lowering his prices for 50 hired hands. Disgusted by the merchant and the conditions he keeps his property in, Lyssa attempts to charm him but is kept out of his head by a charmed amulet. The party settles on a price and rent 50 servants before purchasing 8 trunks of wood. Together, they spend 12 days crossing the desert back to the Spelljammer. On the fourth day the party spot a pack of buzzards circling and trailing above them. The sixth day they encounter sand rats but watch as they scurry off. On the 12th day, they come upon the camp of centaurs outside of the ship. They roll up and Lyssa rallies the servants and the gnomes together to push the ship onto the planks of wood. Together they push and pull the ship across the sand. A few minor setbacks open the party up to an attack. Something from the sand touches one of the workers and forces him to fall to the sand asleep. Lyssa urges the servants to keep working while the party fends off the creature. The monster (a human figure made entirely of sand) swipes at another worker but misses. Vetnik’s aura of bravery steels the morale of nearby workers. Vetnik charges ahead with sword drawn and slashes twice. The creature makes no sound or show of pain. Thom drums for bonuses while Lyssa fires off her projectile dagger. The blade sticks but as the creature moves, the blade falls to the ground. Moira slashes at the thing with Starstrike with destructive fury and watches as the blows turns the shape back into loose sand. Vetnik violently shakes the worker back to wake.

After defeating the sandman, they see the ships wings glow a green hue. Travaren begins to hover to the cheers of the crowd. Lyssa donates 1000gp to the crew with the condition they buy their freedom from their masters. They openly revere her, which makes her uncomfortable. They give her Geshtai’s blessing in Baklunish and watch as the crew boards the Heaven’s Heart. They wave and cheer enthusiastically as the Spelljammer jets off back up into the sky.

The crew flies above the Drawmij Ocean, seeing the endless horizon of water. The ship propels faster and faster, per Travaren’s impatience, and the crew goes under deck. The horizon continues for three days, across 600 miles of monotonous seascape. Suddenly, a figure appears in front of the ship with ebon skin, with coils of air writhing around him. He stares into the ship with unblinking eyes burning with white light.
“You are to stop! You are approaching a protected area.”
“Can you help us? We are in search of Kellagha.”
“Who are ye?”
“My name is not important. You’ve intruded on the lands of the Wind Dukes.”

Thom and he make a deal and he reveals his name to him: Vaastri.

They beseech the man to let them pass. He turns to them and says he senses valor in them. He parts the veil and reveals the hidden land on the other side of the world, with three moons hanging in the sky.

Lyssa feels the connection to the magical energies of the realm saturate her in ways they never had back in Greyhawk. Thom feels a similar feeling but with less intensity. The acolytes hold hands and stare out into space, their eyes sparkling with marvel. Even Moira gasps at the sight of the three large moons. Vetnik stands beside her and feels Moira reach down and grip his hand tight with excitement.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Semi Precious – Smoky Quartz (80gp)
Fancy – Aquamarine (flawed, 140gp)
Gem – Black Sapphire (10k gp)
Gem – Star Ruby (flawed, 4000gp)
Gem – Emerald (large, 7000gp)
Jewels – Necklace (Black Sapphire, 6 Black Opals) (11k gp)
Ornamental – Eye Agate (20gp)

4030gp each
1000gp for 2 scales

TWO WEEKS

VETNIK:
Vetnik gets word from his mother in his father’s voice. They tell him that they’re thinking of him every day. They urge him to return home when all is accomplished. He also receives the jawbone that was given to his father by Lyks after being taken from Kr’zzt’s corpse. Receives 3 powders: Sleep, Disappearing, Revealing.

Vetnik shows Lyks the jawbone. When Lyks touches the jawbone, he feels the tingling of a dark force shoot through him like thousands of spiders up and down his spine. “I will find you,” Lyks mutters before putting it in a case with his vial of Drow skin.

Vetnik arranges to meet with Vortis while Moira is at service. The pair meet and Vetnik offers him a bottle of Lyks’ wine.

GRUNT:
Finishes paying off his home.

Fashions a new suit of blue dragon-lined leather armor.

GRUM:
Shops around for strange and dangerous aquatic creatures to outfit his underground moat.

Hangs out with the Red Nails and establishes a stronger relationship with them. Courts them as new followers.

THOM:
Begins to gather followers to oversee the building of the Black Fort while he travels to Kellagha.

Lactile approaches Thom during the two weeks and tells him that he “doesn’t have the dexterity he used to have. My history, my knowledge is sharp but I can no longer play. I can no longer be Bardmaster. I want to offer you as a nomination to oversee the tutoring of young students.”
“As long as the education mostly includes swordplay and drumming, sure I can be their teacher.”
“Shape the guild how you will, but I will share my knowledge and history if you do take me up on this offer. Be my hands.”

During the two weeks, the board of Bards shows almost unanimous positivity towards the decision to take over for Lactile. The bards-in-training are excited to receive a fresh, younger take on the craft.

“I hope I’m still around for when you return to take the mantle!”

Thom also spends time working on new weapons uses the pieces of Blue Dragon they harvested.

LYSSA:
Ebeviria informs that the guild has reorganized into a council for the sake of democracy. She is a councilwoman. All attempts to put Glarius into suspension fail due to the shrapnel embedded in his skull. The shard of the Eye renders all magic items and potions null. She gains access to deeper magics known to Ebeviria.

She visits Violetta who has bonded with the two girls from Pek. She informs her mother that she will be leaving but will try to keep in touch. She fetches the Eye and leaves but is called murderer as she leaves the house.

Blue quartz (50gp) x 2 (sapphire)
Onyx (80gp) x 3 (onyx)

TRISOLL:
Spends time with his father. Tells his father that he’s jealous he’s not a twin and doesn’t have a sibling to call his own.

MOIRA:
Spends time with Vetnik and shares her enthusiasm with going to find Barth. Spends a little time at the church.

Night before they’re set to depart, Moira visits Vetnik at Pimpleton Manor. She comes armorless. Burbis greets her frantically and allows her in. Moira finally gives it up and guides Vetnik to take her.

---

Vortis and Violetta show up to Pimpleton to see the party off. No big meal awaits the party due to George’s absence. Vetnik swears to Vortis to keep his daughter safe.

Violetta escorts the party to the church of Cortox to the church’s hangar in Gasgal Park. Inside they see a massive, dragonfly shaped ship. Two men man the crew, a frantic dwarf and slender, tall elf.

“This is The Heaven’s Heart. I am Travaran, I assume you are to be our passengers?”

The party and six acolytes board the Spelljammer and are introduced to the other captain, the frantic dwarf with his crew of 3 gnomes.

Thom sketches from the cabins below deck while Lyssa hangs close by, feeling uneasy about the travel.

During the third hour, those on deck see a bunch of streaking multicolored lights zipping around the ship. They swirl around those on deck, and after awhile, they break away and shoot away from the ship with great speed.

The sun slowly began to set as The Heaven’s Heart continued westward towards the vast Dramidj Ocean. Those on deck watched as the sun slowly fell into the horizon from above, a rare sight for most of those on board. The sky had a strange, new coloring unfamiliar to them, only visible to those who occupied the clouds. The wind coursing through their hair, the parties marveled in united silence, absorbing the journey towards what they all once believed was the edge of the world.

Below deck, Lyssa sat quietly beside Thom, whose attention was split between his sketchbook and the view of the mountains view from the window of their cabin. The sunset created dramatic shadows and highlights over the vast mountain range that seemed to push Thom to sketch more and more intently. Lyssa occasionally glanced up from studying from her spell book to enjoy the view below – and even took a moment to watch her companion sketch with renewed excitement. It was a moment of peace that all on board seemed more than willing to surrender to.

“Do you know what mountain range that is?” Lyssa asked Thom. “The one we’re flying above?”
Thom peered over the edge of his sketchbook for a moment before returning to his drawing. “We’re heading west, I believe. My guess is the Crystalmist Mountains.”
Lyssa continued to stare at the crags below. The name of the mountain range sparked something vague in Lyssa, but the memory was far too shapeless to recall. She put it in the back of her mind and continued to enjoy the view as best she could, watching as The Heaven’s Heart passed beyond the seemingly endless mountain range into flatlands and deserts.

Back on the upper deck, Grunt kept to himself towards the stern of the Spelljammer, away from the rest of his party and the awe-struck missionaries. The captivating beauty of the skyscape was inescapable even him, and for a moment, Grunt seemed to be at peace. That peace was fleeting, though, as he heard the sound of footsteps creep up behind him.

“Pardon me,” a gentle woman’s voice squeaked from behind.
Grunt’s nostrils flared as he huffed at the intrusion. He crossed his arms and rested them on the edge, slumping down away from the approaching woman. The woman parked up right beside Grunt, apparently oblivious to the thief’s body language. Her approach was polite but naïve; two qualities Grunt seemed to have no time for.
“It’s beautiful out there, isn’t it?” She was Aela, the half-elf missionary.
Grunt said nothing in return.
“Cortox’s majesty is truly endless!” Aela continued after an awkward pause. Grunt remained silent. His silence only seemed to provoke Aela more. She turned to face him and began again, with even more invasive enthusiasm. “Don’t you agree?”
Grunt slowly began to turn to face her, but before he could bark her away, a disturbance interrupted. Grunt and Aela braced themselves against the edge of the deck as the Spelljammer began to rock suddenly and violently. Those closer to the mainmast also braced themselves and looked to the skies in search of ambushes or disturbances.

Down in the bridge, Travaran struggled to keep the Spelljammer steady. He could feel his magical connection to the rest of the ship begin to flicker in and out of control. The golden helm that surrounded his head with a cool, green glow also flickered. Despite his best efforts, Travaran could feel something keeping his mind from the rest of his vessel. Staring at the horizon, he pushed himself into more intense depths of concentration but the more he pushed, the more he could feel his power being snuffed out. All of a sudden, the turbulence that overcame the ship stopped. Travaran watched from the cockpit as the horizon began to tilt. He threw up the unpowered helm and called out to those above deck: “Brace yourselves!”

Those on deck watched as the glowing green wings of the Heaven’s Heart faded in and out. Captain Durbin knew the signs of a magical outage and raced to gather his crew together.

“Men! Get to the bridge! Everyone else, get below deck!”

Amidst the panic, Lyssa tucked herself away and began to focus on casting a recently acquired spell, one that could surely suspend the airship from crashing to the ground. He closed her eyes and pressed her hands against the hull of the Spelljammer, concentrating on channeling her own magical energies. Despite her best efforts though, she could feel something blocking her from exercising her power. As the Spelljammer continued to fall, Lyssa could feel a pressure overcome her, stifling her ability to release her magical energies.

“Lyssa, if you have anything to help, now is the time to use it!” Thom shouted, doing his best to brace himself.
“I’m trying! I’m trying! Something’s wrong, I can’t—“

The Heaven’s Heart began to torpedo down towards the flat, dry earth. Those on board did their best to prepare themselves and huddled together below deck. It was too late though. The Heaven’s Heart was a heavy vehicle (the size of a galleon) that had suddenly been stripped of the mystical supports that kept it afloat. Travaran watched as the Spelljammer spiraled towards the earth. He jumped up out of his seat and rushed out of the bridge, calling the trio of Gnomish crew members to follow. They abandoned the bridge and rushed towards the cabins as the Heaven’s Heart smashed into the ground. The iron legs of the Spelljammer took the brunt of the impact and scraped through the dry earth. Despite it’s fine metal craftsmanship, the earth and intensity of impact proved too much for one of the legs. The Heaven’s Heart jerked forward and sent those below deck tumbling through their cabins violently. The Spelljammer had landed, its leg twisted, its body angled towards the ground. The passengers and crew took a moment to dust themselves off and get their bearings. Even Vetnik felt the aches and pains of the crash. He and Moira were first to act, helping the missionaries to their feet and out of the Spelljammer. The others straggled out, taking with them whatever weapons of theirs they could find as precaution. Outside, Captain Durbin was quick to rally up his men and together they rushed around, totaling up the damage. Travaran rubbed his head and looked around, astounded by the sudden extinguishing of his magic.

Lyssa looked out into the darkened desert. Above them the stars began to sparkle as the last traces of sunlight began to fall beneath the horizon. As she stared out into the wide-open space of the desert, she too felt something snuff out her connection to the magical currents of the earth. It was an immediate and suffocating feeling that triggered a more distinct trauma.

“No! No! Nonono!” she howled into the dusk. She spun around and rushed towards the Dwarven captain of The Heaven’s Heart. “Do you know what you have done?”
“What? What are ye goin’ on about, girl? Don’t ye go accusin’ me of foul things!”
Lyssa did little to hide her frustration from the others. She kicked the broken, iron leg of the Heaven’s Heart and stomped away from the ship and its captain before stumbling away from the party. The mage was soon wrought was visible panic as she stared out into the desert. Lyssa began to pace with excited breathing, unable to form a coherent response. The disconnection from her powers was jarring and sudden.

“What’s her problem now?” Grunt muttered to the others.

The others simply watched from a distance, unsure of what to make of her tantrum. That is, until Vetnik recalled something: a story Lyssa had shared with the party several weeks prior.

“This must be where it happened?” Vetnik answered back cryptically, staring off into the encroaching darkness of the desert. Grunt and the others looked at him, perplexed.
“Where what happened?” Moira asked as she took her lover’s side.
“The Dry Steppes, beyond the Crystalmist Mountains. This is where the Mages’ Guild tried to destroy the Eye of Null. That has to be why the Spelljammer fell from the sky.” Vetnik looked out beyond Lyssa and scanned the flatlands and the black silhouettes of the mountains faintly cutting through the night sky. “Whatever the mages did here has raped the land of its magic.”

A sharp chill came over the party. The darkness slowly began to give way to the desert cold as well as the dread of the unknown. What terrors would a night in the vast Dry Steppes hold for the party – and without magic, they wondered, how they might ever make it out alive?

Thom put his hand upon the handle of his blade and sighed. “Nine hells.”

WORK IN PROGRESS…

First to wake are Vetnik, Grunt and Moira. Moira spends her morning to speak with Vetnik in Grynoth. Grunt leaves the hut first to go scout the surrounding woods and freshen up.

“I couldn’t sleep knowing we might be able to save Barth. How my father died thinking it was his fault, I need to see this through to end to vindicate him.”
“I will be right by your side.”

Thom wakes up later and sees Moira leave to go on a short walk through the village. He goes out in search of an appraiser to determine the cost and type of the seven gems found in the Stone Giant cave. He jots down the costs and goes back to their hut to discuss the split between Lyssa. The pair come to an agreement: Lyssa will pay for what gems she needs/can afford and will leave whatever she can’t buy/doesn’t need to be sold. She also offers up her pair of blue dragon scales to Thom and the party as barter – whether they choose to sell or use in armor making is up to them.

Vetnik shakes Trisoll awake and the pair goes out in search of breakfast, leaving an exhausted-looking Grum by his lonesome in the hut. He finally wakes on his own after the others leave. He heads to what appears to be a small bazaar and sees a few witches working as weapon smiths. He is allowed to purchase from them Arrows of Slaying for 250gp an arrow. He has the witches enchant them to be effective in slaying Dragons (x2), Undead (x2), Giants (x2) and Fighters (x2).

Grunt returns to the center of the village and runs into Grum at the weapon smithers. He follows his teacher’s cue and purchases Arrows of Slaying for himself: Dragon (x1), Undead (x1), Giant (x1), Elemental (x1). With new arrows in tow, they spy Vetnik and Trisoll indulging in nourishing yet strange breakfast fare communally with several of the local witches. An attendant of Dablova’s comes to their spot and greets the men before requesting Trisoll personally to meet with her master. Trisoll gathers a bowl with the last of his food and rushes off with the attendant, confused as to why she wants an audience with only him. Vetnik and the others watch as he’s taken away and see the other witches still staring at them curiously. They finish up the rest of their meal and quickly return to their hut to meet with the others.

Later in the morning, a group of attendants come to the party’s hut to escort them to Dablova’s hut. They abide and go with; they return to Dablova’s hut and find her only in the company of Trisoll, Ukuduma, and Moloko. Dablova stands to greet the others and notices Thom enter first in his visible form. She remarks about his deep blue cloak and reveals that, underneath her own vestments, she too wears a similar navy blue robe embroidered with stars – only hers are metal and decorate the outside.

“I know you have been sketching Thom, for yourself. I trust these drawings will stay that way. Your parents were trusted allies, but it is a matter of great discretion that you keep them to yourself.”
Thom does her one better and tears the pages neatly from his sketchbook and hands them to her, an act that makes her beam with gratitude. She leans in and informs him that this act will be rewarded with another spell of his choice, all he has to do is ask.

While addressing Thom, she waves Grum through and asks about their parents. She reveals she’s tried to contact them but has not been able to reach out.
“Father wished to return an item to an old friend, who happened to be on a different plane.” Thom informs.
“Ah, so he left the Prime Material?”
“We assume as much.”
“They’re fine” Grum remarks.

As the party continues to empty into her chambers, Dablova remarks on Vetnik’s strength and valor as a cavalier. She also compliments him on how courteous he’s been since his stay in Grynoth and apologizes for the curiosity of her people but notes that they still have an apprehension towards seeing warriors in Grynoth after being subjected to abuses from decades past at the hands of traveling warriors.

“While your father may be abiding by the cold customs of his people, I know his true heart and how deeply he cares for you and wants you to do well.”

Vetnik bows before her and thanks for her the warm regards. Dablova smiles softly before moving down the line to Grunt. She reveals to him that she senses a sort of sadness to him, some kind of longing. She asks if he would like for her to search his mind for any potential source for this depression (his past, his homeland, etc.) but he scoffs. She doesn’t press further but reminds him that her calmative isn’t available outside of Grynoth.

She moves to Lyssa and hands off a scroll very matter of fact like. Before releasing the scroll to her, she reminds her that the scroll is very powerful and if she wishes to tap into that kind of organic power not found in guilds and universities, she has an invite to study with her coven.

Finally, she comes to Moira. She takes both of the paladin’s hands into her own and leans in. She whispers to her (Thom eavesdropping as clear as day):

“I have but one question. Your father, Drayden, did he ever get that tattoo he promised for me?”
“He did. It’s the symbol of an owl. He told me stories of you, and though you had your differences, he told me that you were there when he needed you most.”

Dablova nods and smiles before thanking the party for coming. She wishes them well and tells them that finding Barth is as important to her as it is to them. She welcomes her attendants and chains their magic to hers. Dablova says one last goodbye and the witches begin to chant and intone a teleportation spell that sends the entire party back to the gates of Greyhawk.

As the party ride into town discussing the best possible way to get to Kellagah. They wonder whether or not it’s best to follow Dablova’s advice on going back to Blackmoor through the Hell Mouth or if there are any other means of getting there, perhaps by crossing the Great Oceans. Vetnik suggests that they try a means of transport that Lyks had told them about: Spelljamming. He urges Moira to reach out to the Church of Cortox, whom are said to have two in their own keep.

“I am not in the best place with the church right now, Vetnik. I don’t know if they’d even entertain such an idea, let along having it come from me.”
“It has to be better than anything called the Hell Mouth,” Grunt grumbles.
“He has a point, we don’t know what lies in the Hollow World.” Thom supports.
“They may ask a boon of me, especially since I’ve been so neglectful in my duties.”
“Everyone has a price,” Vetnik assures cooly. “Besides, I plan on having many adventures in our lives.”
Moira smiles, feeling reassured that Vetnik feels confident in this mission to get her brother back.

The party rides through town and arrives at Pimpleton Manor. Outside, the yards look unattended to. No one answers the door when knocked, so Vetnik and Trisoll enter unannounced. Inside, they find the house unlit with the exception of faint light from his study. Only the smell of Lyks’ burning pipe lingers in the air. They head to the study where Vetnik knocks. Lyks barks at Burbis to open the door for them and he does so. The party finds Burbis to be polite let visibly tired, a stark contrast to Lyks who barely acknowledges the party’s return. Burbis offers to make them some Gnomish lunch (consisting of found vole and boiling veggies.) Grunt and Thom shrug and accept; Burbis leaves the study to prepare a meal while the others fill in Lyks on what they found in Grynoth.

“Uncle Lyks, you need some help here while George is away.”
“I can take care of it myself!” Lyks fires back at Moira with a low, exasperated tone.
“Master Lyks, we’d be more than happy to pay for some servants to come help out around here, or at least to give George a hand when he returns.”
Lyks does his best to cut the pair off and change the subject. “What did you find out—“
“Uncle, this home is too big. Let us help George at least. Alright? Please, you cannot live like this”
Before Lyks can protest further, Trisoll urges his father reconsider. He hugs his father and Lyks relaxs. “I missed you, boy. “

The party sits at Lyks table and begin to recount what happened at the coven.
“What did you find out? How is she?”
“Dablova?” Trisoll begins, “I mean… she’s different than the stories I remember hearing about her when I was younger.”
As Trisoll recounts his interaction with her, Lyks stares at Moira, reading her for any trace of change in emotions.
“She’s very nice. She was really hospitable. A little odd, but…”
“And what else?”
“Well, she said she saw Barth.”
Lyks watches as Moira inhales deeply at the sound of her brother’s name.
“She saw him in some strange land she called Kellagha. Do you know it?”
“No.”
“She says it’s on the other side of the world.”
“I’ve been from coast to coast, but have never been across the Great Oceans.”
“She said the ‘best’ way to get there was through a place called the Hell Mouth, which we found in Blackmoor. But—“
“Out with it, boy.”
“Well, Vetnik had an interesting idea. You know about those Cortoxian ships—“
“Spelljammers, yes. You want one of those?”
“Yes! I mean, to us, it just seems like a safer option than going through something called the Hell Mouth.”
Lyks ponders on the idea for a moment. “I’m sure it would only take a donation.”
“But the church is growing and thriving. I don’t know how willing they would be to donate one to us. They’d perhaps be willing to drop us off on their own quest, but—“
“Given the circumstances, I’ll go down and talk to them myself!”

Lyks staggers up using his staff to balance. Moira quickly jumps out of her seat to support him. He calls out to Gibbs, his bear mount, to ready himself for a ride. Moira agrees to come along with him. Lyks urges that his son escort them as well, but Trisoll reminds his father that he’s not the best when speaking to diplomatic types. Thom requests a bottle of Lyks’ nicest vintage, and before Lyks can protest, he reveals to the druid that he is in possession of a Philter of Persuasiveness, which he explains he’ll spike the wine with if necessary.

“Only as a last resort,” Thom says with a wink.

The thieves depart on their own while the others head to the Church. Lyssa takes off as well and heads to see Ebeviria at the University to get the latest on Glarius’ condition as well as to tell Ebeviria about the magic she saw in Grynoth. On the way to the church of Cortox, Lyks explains his own experience with piloting a Spelljammer. How, through use of a magical helm, he was able to telepathically pilot the ship through the skies.

At the church, Moira heads the party and leads them inside – all except Trisoll, who waits outside with Gibbs. An acolyte greets her and she replies, “Please tell Jemmen that I am here to see him.”
“My apologies, Lady Steelshaper, but he is presently very busy. I can arrange an appointment for later when he is more free—“
Lyks speaks up from the back of the party and approaches, his wooden staff clanging against the marble floor. “Then tell him Zemilay Lyks would like a word with him.”
“I’m sorry, Druid. But as I said, Jemmen is not free for an audience right now so—“
Moira leans in and begins to intimidate. “What is your name?”
“I—“
“We are here on a mission of the utmost importance. You know my name and you know what weight it carries here.”
“Yes, yes I do… I’ll go check again.”
“Very good.” Lyks grumbles.

After 7 minutes, Jemmen (older, balder and bearded) steps out to greet the party with varying degrees of warmth.
“Ah, Zemilay Lyks, and Moira Steelshaper, the paladin. I was told you needed to speak with me with the great urgency?”
“Do you have time to sit with us?” Lyks asks.
“My servants seem to this matter is a priority for me. Eh, Moira?”
Moira stares blankly back at Jemmen, silent.
“You have my ear. Come.” Jemme says before leading them to his chambers.

Lyks sits down while the others back him, across from Jemmen. He requests, on behalf of the Champions of the Stars, if they may ascertain one of the church’s Spelljammers. Jemmen sighs.
“You wish to use one of our Spelljammers? For what purpose?”
“There is a great evil lurking on the other side of the planet. In a land called Kellagah. My heroes, they need to go there.”
“And this is the responsibility of the church how? You understand my vehicles are involved in commerce and missionary work.”
“Then spread the good god’s message on the other side of the world!”
“The other side of the world? There is nothing there.”
“No, there is.”
“There is, and if you lend us your Spelljammer we can prove it to you!”
As the two men’s discussion grows more and more heated, Thom interjects. “Do you know what it would be, for you to spearhead the first mission to the other side of the world? And for it to be in Cortox’s name no less!”
“This could be nothing more than a goose chase based on rumor.”
“Then all you will have lost is time.”
“And use of our ship. I fail to see how we are to gain from this. As an added plus, you bring with you our illustrious Paladin who has been all but absent from her duties as a sword of this church.”
“You do not need to bring her into this. Do you forget who her father is?” Lyks fires back with wine-soaked anger. “Do you forget what he did for this church? What I have done for this bloody church? I helped give you your god back, show some gratitude!”
Jemmen, as well as the others, sit back and let Lyks vent and watch with mouths agape.
“Do you forget that I was there?”
“And we are grateful—“
“I don’t think you are. If not for the Steelshaper girl’s fathers, or myself, you would be without a lord and savior! Spare me your excuses! I think this is a small favor to ask and if it’s a question of your precious Spelljammer, I have more than enough funds and resources at my disposal to make sure it returns to you in one solid, shining piece!”
“What good is it for a church that looks to celestial bodies as divine to only explore half of the celestial body it exists on?” Thom reasons with a calmer tone.

Lyks leans across the table and stares Jemmen down with an intense glare. He hisses at the priest: “There is an evil brewing across the Great Oceans, an evil I don’t anticipate will stay hidden for very long until we do something about it. We! As myself, my friends, and my children have done and continue to do for generations. You should be grateful—“
“I should be grateful?!” Jemmen blasts back, offended.
“Yes, grateful. Grateful that we would put our necks on the line to defend this land from something none of us can truly comprehend!”
“You come into my church and speak to me as if you would a child—”
“Because you reason like a child! I am far older and have been doing this since before you knew who Cortox was! I have a name in this town and a duty to uphold.”
“As do I, Grand Druid. To protect the word of Cortox and those that follow it. I would expect a man of your station would have a better understanding of protocol!”

The two men pause while the others watch with held breath. The air left behind from the tense exchange begins to cool after a few moments. Lyks does his best to cool his temper before beginning again.
“I think you should hear me out, Jemmen. What we are trying to do is stop something terrible from destroying everything you and I hold dear.”
“I should listen to you? You, who brings before me this paladin who seems to have forgotten her own station and duties? You, who keeps the company of murderers and thieves and lauds them as heroes? I know what company you keep, Zemilay Lyks.
Moira steps forward before Lyks can respond. “And what has the church done for me, Jemmen? Every time I step outside of this city I see death and suffering because of religion gone wrong!”
“I’ve known a lot of the leaders before you, Jemmen. You ought to step back and see what you’re doing for this church.”
“I was chosen by Parthis Marren himself! It was upon his passing that I took his mantle. I will be very frank with you, I do not appreciate the way I’ve been spoken to in this church. Especially if you are to ask a favor of me! I do not forget what you have done for Corox, Zemilay Lyks, but I cannot bend to the whims of all of those who have done good by our church. I do not know what the church of Beory allows, but this is behavior the church of Cortox does not permit! This is not how it is done.”

“Do you know how many lives you could save?” Lyks asks.
“You will listen to me now, Lyks. I will offer you the use of one of our Spelljammers under two conditions. The first: you lead a band of missionaries there to spread the good word on the other side.”
“Fair enough. The second?”
“Moira Steelshaper is to stay here in our company. She has much to duties to fulfill to the church and they shall be taken care of.”
Moira jumps up and slams her fist down upon the front of the desk beside Lyks.

“No! I must go, this is for my brother! I cannot stay behind, I will not let you do this!”
“Your brother is not a part of this church. You are a paladin of this church, you must fulfill your duties. The word is final.”

Moira pauses, her nostrils flaring with heat and anger. Before Jemmen can continue to negotiate the terms of usage with Lyks, Moira quickly tears the badge of Cortox from her armor and slams it down on the desk in front of Jemmen. The priest looks up to her and sees her standing there, her chin up and defiant.

“What are you doing?!” Vetnik asks, rushing to Moira’s side. Moira continues to stare down Jemmen.
“No. I will not abandon my brother. Not for this church, not for anyone. I will find my own way there and bring my brother back myself if I have to!”
“You would throw this all away?!” Jemmen says, taken aback by her brazenness. They stare each other down for a few moments longer until Jemmen hangs his head.

“I have been a fool. Moira, I’ll sanction you to be a part of the missionary team. Take back your badge.”

Moira quickly does as she’s told, whispering thanks to her leader. Jemmen reveals that he will have a Spelljammer ready for them in two weeks time. Lyks nods and thanks him for coming to his senses and arranges for a donation to be made to the church (1000gp). The men shake hands and Moira bows before Jemmen in gratitude before the party departs. Lyks hands off a bottle of his wine (free of Thom’s philter) as a peace offering.

“This is how you negotiate like a diplomat, Druid. I understand your passion. I– “
“Enjoy it. Thank you for your time. ”

Back at home, a courier delivers a parcel care of the prestigious House (XXXXX) as payment for helping to capture the fugitive assassin G’aldem M’lek. Inside waiting for them are 2000pp. (285pp per person).

At the Thieves’ Guild, Grum goes to see Thurman, who is eager to speak with Grum regarding his recent adventures as well as informing him about the state of the Red Nails. Thurman proposes to Grum that, should he wish to take on any more charges, that he feels the remaining, loyal Red Nails could use a new leader (Asteria, Orlande, and Marit).

WORK IN PROGRESS…

After slaying the erinyes, the party realizes they’re 2/3 the way to their destination, westward towards Gorsend. Cleaning up the mess, Vetnik goes to the convent noticing that Moira has been away. Moira hears Vetnik approaching and steels herself. When seeing him, she loosens up.

“Look what this has wrought. Why? I don’t understand!”
“You’re asking questions that men have asked for many years. This is war.”
“These women sought nothing but to express their faith and they paid with their lives.”
“Is that not what devotion is?”
“Does it make it worth it?”

“I’m letting my father down!”
“You’re letting neither of your fathers down. These are experiences we grow from. Life isn’t easy.”

The pair hug and Vetnik comforts her before excusing Moira. She asks Vetnik for his shield to break the ground.

She returns to the party to tell the others that all inside are dead. Grunt comments “How many holes do they need?”
“How can you be so insensitive?”

Trisoll and Moira speak in private.

The unseen servants help to drag the bodies out and push the dirt out of the holes. Moira says a prayer to both Cortox and Cuthbert. The party scans the convent for signs of a ritual that might have summoned the erinyes. Grum finds a secret panel via his gem of seeing that opens up to a consecrated altar for the Lolth. Vetnik and Grum have a moment.

“Maybe it’s another clue.”

Vetnik smashes the altar furiously, annoyed that the creature of myth is making a return to their lives.

Trisoll and Moira return in better spirits. Once hearing of Lolth’s altar, Trisoll urges that the convent be burned to the ground. Before burning, Grum finds a pair of fancy gems: 2 crimson garnets. Grum gives them over to Lyssa per their agreement. The party leaves and Lyssa casts Wall of Fire inside the convent, setting it ablaze.

While the church burns, Vetnik notices Moloko circling above and heads northwest. He points it out to Grum and Grum & Grunt lead the pack.

Vetnik asks if Trisoll is ok. “Yeah. I’m not happy about seeing Moira seeing like this. She’s the best one of us.”
“Thank you for talking with her.”

Grum locks onto Moloko and the party rides in its direction. The first hour back on the road, the party sees a trio of men fleeing from a small path off the main road to the main road with shovels, picks, and sacks.

“What d’ya make of that?” Grunt
“We’ll talk to the cavalier about this.” Grum says, waving Vetnik over.

The trio of men pay no mind to the party and try to zip past them.

“What do you want?”
“What’re you running from?” Ve
“None of your business!”
“What’re you up to?” Mo

Both knights spy the equipment of graverobbers. Vetnik rides after them and yanks the leader by the collar.

“If I put you down it’ll be to smash you back into the ground.”

The men drop their gear and empty their pockets.

“We didn’t get anything!”

Vetnik tosses him to the ground while Thom slips away to investigate down the smaller path. He finds at the center of a medium sized glade a freshly built mausoleum. As Thom checks it he sees several desiccated corpses dressed in rags emerge from the mausoleum to tend to the grounds, polishing the stone and trimming the grass. Thom continues to watch as they light the lanterns in front and once done with their duties, all but two return to the crypt while the rest stand guard.

After not hearing from Thom, Grum/Grunt sneak off to find him. As Grum moves, he crunches a branch beneath his feet, which tickles Grunt. Both melt into the shadows and come upon Thom’s vantage point. The brothers call out to each to other in secret. They triangulate and meet up and Thom explains to them what he saw. Thom asks the thieves to stay while he reports to the group.

The party moves into the brush on horseback. The thieves and the dead can hear them, but do nothing. Vetnik spots shield of heraldry and deduces the mausoleum belongs to a minor Lord. Thom uses local history and deduces it to belong to House Bathis and that the tomb belongs to Ogar Bathis. The Bathis family is rumored to have been involved in cult activity but it was never confirmed.

Lyssa attempts to throw a rock at the tomb but fails. Lyssa tries a second time and it hits the door. The dead do not react but the door slides open and two servants come out and scrub the scuff off the door before returning inside.

Thom invisibly heads towards the door. He picks up no further clues about the tomb. Standing inches away from the door. Neither corpse guard takes notice of him. One is a human, the other an elf. Thom pushes the door open with his longbow with little resistance. Both servants turn to the center and say, in dry husky voices, command Thom to stop. Thom tries to climb up the mausoleum and sees the corpses draw their old, rusted weapons. Thom jumps down and climbs up a nearby tree. He sees them return to their original formation, weapons sheathed.

Vetnik and Trisoll confront the guards. Trisoll tries to turn and finds that his turn undead doesn’t work on them. The party decides to leave the mausoleum, leaving the Crypt Servants to tend to their master’s tomb.

Second hour the party comes across two stone giants who have just killed cattle from a nearby farm and are dragging back to their lair. Thom opens up by drumming to hit, buffing the party. The pair of giants rushes the party with cattle corpse in hand. Vetnik rides towards them and slashes each of them with his longsword. Grum sends forth two arrows into one of the giants; first makes it but second doesn’t. Thom moves into striking range while drumming for the party to hit. As he drums, the giants attack. Vetnik is bludgeoned by one of the giants with a cattle’s corpse. The second giant picks up a giant bolder and hurls it at Grum, Grunt and Moira. Grum and Moira are both hit.

“Why are we doing this again?!” Grunt shouts.

Moira dusts herself off and charges at one of the giants, unleashing two blows against it. The first cuts but with the second, Starstrike causes major bleeding via hacking at his right leg. Trisoll runs forward and rushes to heal Grum. From the back of the party, Lyssa casts Phantasmal Killer on the unwounded giant. Grunt fires off two bolts from Hank, first misses but the second lands.

After healing Grum for a bit, Trisoll blesses the entirety of the party. The giants attack a second time. The first giant clubs Vetnik again with his cattle corpse but Moira just barely evades her attacker. Vetnik picks himself up off the ground and rushes to both of the giants again, cutting one of the giant’s injured legs. Moira sees Vetnik’s opponent weakened and charges at it. The first attack misses but slays with a second blow. From the back of the party, Lyssa watches a shadowy figure slash into the second giant and the party watches as the giant shrieks and falls to the ground, dead of fright.

Thom sends his familiar Spitfire to scout ahead in the direction of the giant’s lair. He returns to Thom and clucks the coordinates of the giant’s cave. Before they depart, Lyssa searches the corpses of the slain giants and collects 1000gp and 3 gems (precious aquamarine, fancy jet black gem, precious amber) on the male she’s killed. Finding nothing on the female giant, Lyssa carves out one of her eyes for later use in rituals. Trisoll heals Vetnik twice but is unable to recover all of his Hp.

Thom approached Lyssa as she finished rifling raiding the corpse she had psychically slain. He watched her unseen, for a moment, as she pocketed the trio of precious gems.

“Lyssa!”

The bard’s disembodied voice rattled the eager Lyssa. She darted her eyes around looking for some trace of her companion.

“You know the rules.”
“Yes, but it was my kill! Take the coin, just let me keep the gems.”
“You know we make most of our coin from finding gemstones. You don’t even have enough of your share to cover what these would fetch us.”
“You don’t know what I’ve got saved!”

“Fine, but at least let me have a cut from the jet stone when we return to Greyhawk.”

“I’ve never seen you take it like that before!” Moira remarked to Vetnik.

Moira comes over and shows concern over Vetnik’s condition. Vetnik shrugs it off but thanks Moira anyway for her concern before getting back on his horse. Thom scouts ahead with Grum and Grunt but not before casting strength over he and his brother. Inside the cave they see two infant giants writhing in a nest. Grunt goes takes the lead, pulls out his broadsword, and cuts the throats of the infant giants.

“They would’ve just died a slower death,” Grunt remarks, wiping the blood from his sword.

Thom and Grum find more gold (x3000) and 7 gems (XXXXXX) as well as a shield (Thom identifies it as +3 shield, which he gifts to Vetnik.) Moira carries both Starstrike and Blade’s Bane (her father’s shield).

The third hour of the ride is uneventful. They see Moloko circling above and watch him dive down through a standalone portal. The party finds themselves in an open clearing. They see Moloko dive down and past them and fade away into the horizon. They get close and they can feel something repel them. Suddenly the feeling begins to subside and they see a shimmering. Behind the veil they see on the perimeter several witches and warlocks maintaining a master spell.

They enter the village, which is humble — almost primitive — in nature. They see witches, warlocks and their familiars. In the center is a grander, more oval hut. The people are at first very surprised and backs off from the party. Moloko flies slowly and perches himself in front of the elongated hut. Vetnik walks up the small hill and sees attendants at either side of the hut. They allow the party to pass and inside and see a congress of 12 witches, a central figure with a figure beside her whose stature dwarfs even Vetnik’s.

The party is weirded out as to why they’ve been called to the hidden coven, headed by the eccentric Dablova. She tells them that she is an old friend of their parents’ and has been watching them since childhood. She offers them her special calmative (Serenity) which all but Lyssa enjoy – Grunt believes he’s even slick enough to sneak some into his waterskin – as well as potent healing for all those struck down by the giants on the way to Grynoth. After lounging about and enjoying the bohemian ambience, they continue to question why they were asked here.

Dablova excuses all in the party except Moira (much to rest of the party’s confusion) with whom she shares a vision she had of her twin brother. She tells her that she saw her brother Barth as a man, clad in black ebon armor atop an unfamiliar lizard mount. Around him were armies of Elves with skin of gold, alabaster, and sable wielding weapons of wood and stone. Wherever he was had an aura of evil to it that she could not discern the source of. She doesn’t reveal that she is her birth mother but instead gives Moira a scroll case with a small medallion attached to the end of it. Inside, she reveals, is a powerful Magic Jar scroll (lvl 14) that she must keep safe and use only if necessary: either in trapping Kr’zzt’s essence or trapping Barth’s soul in order to purify it before putting it back into his body. She excuses Moira to join with the rest of the party and together they take in the rest of the village, enjoying a fresh bath and some time to take in the mysterious Grynoth. Moira relays her talk with Dablova to the twins and Vetnik while Trisoll and Lyssa tour the grounds, remarking how intimidated they are by the new and different ways they see magic being applied.

As the party is away, Dablova has a moment with her familiar. She reveals to him that she did not reveal her full identity to Moira as there are more pressing matters on her daughter’s mind that she must to focus on without the distraction of revelation, but when the time is right, she will reveal herself to her. She then communes with the spirits using a vision spell. Dablova sacrifices her only two artifacts from raising the Steelshaper children and asks them two questions: where is Barth and what is the best way to get to him? The spirits take her offerings and return with two answers: a place called Kellagha on the other side of the world that is accessible via the Hellmouth in Blackmoor.

Once the party returns, Dablova shares her revelations with the party (without mentioning what went into getting them.) For their difficult journey, each member of the party is rewarded with special oils and potions:

All: Ointment of Flying (allows user to fly for 24 hours, 1 application)
Thom: Potion of Polymorph Self, free spell from Dablova’s spell book (undecided), 2 seeds for Gourd of Travel
Grum: Potion of Speed
Vetnik: Potion of Heroism (Super-Heroism if he’s above level 10)
Moira: Potion of Stone Giant Strength, Lvl 14 Scroll for Magic Jar + Phylactery (in secret)
Trisoll: Potion of Plant Control
Grunt: Potion of Climbing
Lyssa: Oil of Etherealness, Lvl 14 Scroll of (undecided)

After gifting the party with their potions and spells, Dablova offers a hut to them for the evening or to teleport them directly back to Greyhawk should they wish. The party agrees to stay the night in relative safety and relaxation, enjoying more food and Serenity and taking in the culture.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Moira sat up in her bed with her face a mess of sweat and panicked tears, her legs curled and pressed to her chest. She looked through the thin, silken drapes of her bedroom window to the sky and watched as it brightened from its deepest blue into fading indigo. The bleeding of dawn washed over and soothed her back into the waking world.

“Daddy,” she whispered to herself.

Once the rising of the sun shocked her back into reality, Moira quickly opened herself and leaped off her bed. She rushed out of her bedroom down the hall towards her father’s room, where even behind the closed door, she could hear him draw nasally snore after snore. She paused at his door and rested both her knuckles and brow gently against it. A flash of early childhood memory flooded her vision: she remembered her and her twin brother rushing in early in the morning as children to wake both of their fathers. Despite his buttoned-up disposition, Moira remembered that Vortis always welcomed her and her brother into their bed with half-hearted reluctance and, eventually, a smile. Moira lifted her head up off the door, took a deep breath, and knocked firmly but calmly upon her father’s bedroom door

Moira could hear her father stirring and grumbling in his bed behind the door. She knocked once more and called out to him. “Father?” Moira asked, knocking a bit harder for a third time.
“M—Moira?” Vortis asked, wiping away the sleep from his face.
“Yes, father. I need to speak with you. Please.” Moira pleaded with a cracking voice.
“Come in,” Vortis replied as he sat up in his bed. Moira tried her best to wipe the last remnants of tears from her cheeks. She opened her father’s door and made sure to keep to the threshold, far away enough from her father as to not incite fatherly panic in him.
“Moira, what’s the matter?”
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help from shrinking before him. The sight of his daughter’s shaken state – her puffy, red eyes, flushed cheeks and sweat-drenched hair – shook Vortis out of whatever lethargy remained. “I need to speak with you and my uncles at once!”
“Certainly. I’ll send word to Tic-Toc to meet us at Pimpleton Manor at once, but Moira, what– “
Moira rushed into the unlit bedroom and threw her arms around him. She buried her head next to his and whispered frantic things in his ears. As Vortis listened his expression morphed from sleepy-eyed concern to shock.

Moira reveals that not only was it a memory, but that it also absolves her father Drayden of guilt. Lyks reveals he suspects it has something to do with an old adversary: Kr’zzt.

Later in the morning as the party gather to have their communal breakfast, they are also told of Moira’s recalled memory. A scratching at a nearby window interrupts their discussion and, when Lyks goes to check on it, he sees an old white barn owl. Lyks begins to speak to the owl through birdlike clicks and hoots and after a few moments, the owl flies off. Lyks reveals that the owl is named Moloko and that it belongs to an old friend of his. He continues on to say that this old friend has summoned the party to specific coordinates in Furyondy. With Lyks’ urging, the party agrees to leave in a day’s time.

At the University of Magic, Lyssa goes to see Ebeviria for the first time since the trial. She finds the Mage’s Guild in complete disarray. According to Ebeviria, a fragment of the Eye of Null shattered in the process of attempted destruction and pierced headmaster Glarius Gladstone’s skull. Now, all senior Mages are jockeying for his seat.

Before hitting the road, Lyks sits the party down for a crash course on all things Kr’zzt. He gives them tips on protecting themselves and their homes and also warns them of the kind of power he has (possession, mind control, invulnerability, etc.)

The following day, the party set off towards Furyondy, according to the coordinates. They cross the Nyr Dyv and enter the port town of Willip. They find its citizens a mix from shanghaied seadogs to affluent captains and trade barons. Grum, Grunt and Thom put forth a gentleman’s wager after seeing its dock area overrun by careless, drunken navymen. The trio lurk the taverns looking to see who can steal the most expensive haul. Vetnik and Trisoll follow behind, eager to enjoy a drunk or two, while Moira and Lyssa stay behind with the horses.

For their first heist, the pair of thieves comes across a drunken, belligerent sailor and they manage to steal the bulk of his coin. Thom manages to cut what he assumes to be a hefty coinsack only to find that its contents are lacking. Grum and Grunt head to a second tavern and Grum picks out a startlingly handsome (and richly adorned) sailor:

“Pardon me sir, but did you serve on the Sea Slicer?”
“No, but I wish I had.” Grum replied with a smirk before taking a seat across from the decorated sailor.
The sailor twisted the end of his mustache between his bejeweled fingers and smiled back. “Likewise. I feel like we would have had a great time serving her together.”
“Well, no sense in not enjoying each other’s company now. How about a drink?”
The sailor leaned back in his chair and welcomed Grum to his table. As Grum sat down, the sailor snapped his fingers to summon a nearby barmaid – making sure not to take his eyes away from the thief.

The sailor introduces himself as Cerus Margen and tells Grum about his early life as a farmhand who escaped to the navy after leaving a strict, unaccepting father. Grum begins to feel sympathetic. Cerus likes that Grum is more refined than the rough trade on the seas. Grunt follows Grum inside and sits down in an empty bench near the men’s table. Cerus proposes that they take a change of scenery and Grum agrees to it. Cerus excuses himself for a moment and while he’s gone, Grum and Grunt quickly outline a new plan for robbing the sailor.

At the bathhouse, Cerus took it upon himself to treat he and his new friend “Cerul” to a private bath. Grum coolly indulged in Cerus’ request for intimacy and together they were led past the public baths to the private rooms. The disinterested attendant gathered together fresh towels and ladled the hot coals with a fresh splash of water. The attendant quickly excused himself and left the pair to enjoy in the steaming warmth of the room.

Both men carried an attraction to each other that was hard to contain but it seemed both men were experts at not showing their hands too early. However, as both men disrobed and set their things aside, their eagerness was more than apparent. Grum lead Cerus to the tepid pool before bunching up both he and Cerus’ things in a pile on a bench near the door. Grum was careful to place the jewels he could on the very top of the pile before placing his own cloak over it as to keep from being completely obvious. Grum slinked over to the pool behind Cerus. The sailor reclined against Grum as he slowly but firmly began to press his hands across his shoulders. Cerus wriggled in delight, surprised and delighted by Grum’s skillful fingers.

“Mmmm! This was much needed, dear Cerul!”

While Grum continued to work Cerus’ shoulders, he looked over to the door and saw a shadow appear underneath it. Grum kept his eyes fixed on the door watched as it creaked open. Fearing the sound of the old wooden door might alert Cerus, Grum quickly and intensely leaned down and pressed his mouth against the sailor’s ear. Grunt continued to slowly open the door an inch or two more, just enough to slip inside the steamy room. Grum fired a side-eyed glance at his charge as he lapped up his sailor’s ear and neck – an unspoken signal to hurry and leave the men to their enjoyment. Grunt scooped quickly surveyed the room and noticed a pile of clothes topped with Grum’s jet-black cloak. He leaned down and noticed beneath it a smaller pile gathered underneath it. Grum furrowed his brow at Grunt; Grunt quickly scooped up his master’s cloak and the contents bundled within. With the haul in hand, Grunt quickly slipped out of the room and closed the door as quietly as possible as Grum’s hands continued down past Cerus’ work-hardened torso into the warm water of the pool.

With the boys off gallivanting from tavern to tavern, Moira and Lyssa continued to wait with the groups’ goods and horses in relative silence. Lyssa was deep in arcane study, impervious it seemed to the boisterous distractions of the docks. Moira shared her time between watching both her companion and the drunks mingle and chase after one another. As the hour neared its end, Moira watched as navymen and catfish alike slipped into taverns and alleyways to revel away from prying eyes. With the streets before them nearly empty, Moira took the quiet time as an opportunity to speak with Lyssa as she had promised. She moved towards the bench Lyssa was quietly sitting at and sat beside her. Lyssa did nothing to acknowledge her and continued to murmur passages to herself. Without provocation, Moira began simply and softly:

“Why did you do it?”

Lyssa’s mouth froze in mid-recital. Her jaw tensed as she struggled to process the forwardness of Moira’s question. Without looking up from her spell book, she replied pointedly. “You know exactly why I did what I did. I kept it from you because it had nothing to do with you. With any of you.”
“We could have helped you,” Moira urged, inching closer to Lyssa. “We could have found justice for you and Violetta"
“I…” Lyssa began before stopping herself. She sighed as she both struggled to find the right response as well keep her temper at bay. After a moment, Lyssa began again with a less pointed tone, “I did not mean to do… what I did. I thought if I could see him, I might be able to understand why… how someone like him could live the life he lived while we worked tirelessly for his gain. Things just…”
“I understand,” Moira said as she placed a comforting hand on Lyssa’s shoulder. “I believe you when you say it wasn’t your intent. What you took was vengeance and vengeance is not the way. Had we been able to address the issue within the law we may have been able to embarrass the Cerzan family. Nothing is more important to those types than their damn social status. The younger Cerzan seemed sensitive to your plight as well. Perhaps an opportunity lost—“
“It doesn’t matter now,” Lyssa said, cutting Moira off and slamming her book shut. “I made him a martyr and reminded my mother of what she feared in me.”
“Your mother has grown into a more devoted acolyte than even myself I fear. Her newfound faith has given her the infinite capacity to love, and to forgive. She no longer fears you Lyssa. You are her only true tether to this world.”
“She may be able to forgive, but she won’t ever forget. No one in Greyhawk will. Not her, nor you, nor Lyks. No one. What good a tether am I if she constantly fears I’ll snap?” Lyssa sat up off the bench and stormed towards her horse. Moira remained seated, watching as Lyssa struggled to put her spell book back into her saddlebag.

“That may indeed be true. The knowledge of your heritage becoming public is more than troublesome but nothing proves true intent more than action.” Moira stayed seated on the bench and did her best to maintain a calm and compassionate tone. She continued to urge, “show the people of Greyhawk that you are not your grandfather’s daughter. That you are your own woman and yes, you can make mistakes but you can also make amends.”
Lyssa stopped rifling through her sack and twisted herself back around to face Moira in frustration. “What if I can’t?”
“For the death of one man, a man who made his way on the backs of others? I’d say the debt is not beyond your reach. I don’t condone what you did, but I understand. We are allies now and always Lyssa. I choose not to judge you as it is not my place to do so.”
“The worst part of this is… it was all me.” Lyssa replied in a low, desperate voice.
“Your anger doesn’t make you a monster. We are all capable of failing to act in the appropriate way. Sometimes you just get it wrong—“ Moira retorted, holding back a similar desperation.
Lyssa looked at Moira curiously. She could tell something intense was bubbling just beneath the surface. “What do you mean?”
“I… I saw my brother drifting away and I didn’t speak up, I should have seen what was to come! I have also failed Lyssa… and yet I choose to stand against that failure and if given the chance to do the right thing, I will always endeavor to do so.”
Lyssa was captivated by this leaking vulnerability, despite Moira’s best efforts to keep up appearances. She could hear the trembling in Moira’s voice as she spoke briefly of her brother. Before Lyssa could pry deeper, she heard the rustling of armor and familiar jovial laughter approach them. Almost instantly, Moira stiffened up, straightened her shoulders a bit and put back up her veneer of confidence to welcome Vetnik and Trisoll back from their bar hopping. Lyssa let Moira have a moment with the boys and watched her greet Vetnik with a soft kiss on his cheek and oblige Trisoll’s ramblings with an almost believable enthusiasm.

Thom soon returns with a brilliant blue cloak inlayed with a pattern of four metal stars. Lyssa offers to cast detect magic over it and uncovers that the cloak itself is unremarkable, but the stars its embroidered with radiate powerful magic. Several minutes later, Grunt sneaks back to join the group with jewelry and without Grum. He shows off his haul but Thom wonders where his brother is. Grunt tells the party that Grum is at the baths and may be a while. While waiting on Grum, Thom memorizes and casts identify over the stolen garment and finds out that it’s a cloak of the stars!

After finishing an intense session, Grum and Cerus prepare to check out from the bathhouse but not before Cerus finds out his items have been taken. Grum gives him false consolation that seems to woo Cerus. They part ways and before meeting back with the rest of the party, Grunt stops at the bazaar where he buys and sends Cerus flowers and a new fire opal ring.

After leaving Willip, the party travel along a tributary deeper into Furyondy…

As the party continued down the quiet woodland road, the clusters of trees began to thin as they neared the tributary that cut through it. Near one particular clearing, they could hear the rustling of stumbling steps against fallen leaves and grass. Suddenly, Grum spied a shape unsteadily moving through the forest. He pulled his horse to a halt – a signal to the others to do the same – and watched as the figure emerged. In the distance he saw it: a young woman of tall and slender frame drabbed completely in white robes embroidered with the symbol of the cudgel. A more disturbing detail troubled Grum though. The robes, as well as the hands and face, of the mysterious woman were covered in what appeared to be fresh blood.

She appeared to be without weapons of her own. The party watched from the safety of the main road as she stumbled down towards the riverbank as if in a daze. From what Grum could tell the woman bore no wounds of her own either but he could not be certain from the road. He waved to Grunt and the pair slid down from their horses to get a closer look while the others waited and watched. The pair of thieves took opposite sides as they sneaked down towards the riverbank, both careful in each step as not to alert her. Grum was first to reach her and once behind her he lingered there in the shade of nearby trees. As he waited, he could hear the woman mutter something over and over to herself as she scrubbed her hands clean in the silty water.

“Such a waste. Such a waste.”

Neither her voice nor her washing could be described as panicked though. Rather, there was a languid quality to both. He motioned to Grunt to move back up to the main road. Grunt obliged and sneaked off ahead of his master. Grum stood and watched her for a few moments more before following Grunt. Watched and waited for some kind of change in demeanor from the woman. Whatever daze this woman was in seemed to disturb Grum even more now that he’d seen it up close.

Back on the road, Grum reported his findings to the others.

“Is this woman in any kind of danger? Does she need assistance?” M
“She doesn’t seem to be in her right mind.” Grum
“She could need our help. Vetnik?” M
“It’s possible but—“ Grum
“Moira and I will go check it out, the rest of you stay in reserve.” Vet
“Well what if she’s the one who did something bad?” Gr
“Well, she could be just another one of those… seers. Like the one we met outside of Blackmoor.” Ve
“Oh, you mean like that insane haruspex who assaulted me? Have fun.” Lys

Vetnik and Moira ride down to the tributary and as they near the woman, the sound of their horses and clanging metal armor alerts the woman to their presence. She stops washing her hands in the river and turns to greet the knights.

“You seem quite distraught,” Vetnik commented.
“I am. A madness came over my poor sisters!” The woman replied as she stood to reveal the magnitude of the filth that soiled her once crisp, white robes.
“Your sisters?” Vetnik continued.
“Yes, yes. We are all acolytes, humble billets in His service. We have a convent just down this path.”
“Who do you serve?”
“ Saint Cuthbert of the Cudgel.”
“Is this the blood of your sisters?”
“It is,” the woman revealed before hanging her head in mourning. After taking a moment to compose herself, she looked up to Moira and extended her hand to her. “Paladin, will you come and help me consecrate them, my sisters?”
“Yes, of course.” Moira replied without hesitation, taking the woman’s still-damp hand into hers. The woman’s face collapsed in an expression of desperate relief. She turned to Vetnik once more.
“And you cavalier? You are strong! Will you help me lay my sisters to rest, help me to bury them?”
“Yes,” Vetnik answered back, briefly glancing at Moira. “Absolutely, but you must tell us about this madness that overcame your sisters.”
The woman’s mouth tightened as she nodded her head obligingly. She let go of Moira’s hand and began to lead the party down the beaten path that ran along the river and deeper into the woods. The forest had an eerie calm to it, accented by sparse sound of leaves crushed beneath the party’s feet and the droning chirp of insects.
“We have worshipped together for years in peace but not too long ago their passion for Saint Cuthbert seemed to wane out of nowhere. They no longer did their duties with the same amount of devotion and vigor they once had. They seemed to care more about their own vain desires. Then—“ the woman cut herself off from speaking further as they continued deeper down the trail.
“Then what?” Vetnik asked. The woman said nothing at first as if trying to concentrate on the path ahead. With the main road further enough behind them and no longer visible, she continued.
“They began to say things. Things about me! Vicious, wicked lies!”
Vetnik noticed the woman’s temperament turn increasingly more erratic as she continued on about the events leading up to the death of her sisters. He softly jerked his reigns and steered his horse ahead of Moira’s at the very front of the pack.
“Sounds cruel to me.”
“It was! They were! The most awful things were said too.”
“How much further is the convent?”
“Just right up the road. Anyway, their true intentions soon began to show and I knew they were conspiring against me!”
“How did they die?”

Just as Vetnik asked his question, the woman stopped at what appeared to be the end of the path. There the party could see the open yard in front of a humble convent surrounded by trees. In the yard there lay a single wooden totem, a carving of a man’s arm holding the cudgel of St. Cuthbert upright. Now it lay in a patch of untamed grass. The air was crisp and as the breeze blew through, it carried with it the scent of recent death.
“They were murdered,” the woman flatly said with her back turned to the party.
“How do you know they were murdered?” Vetnik asked as he slyly slid his hand down towards the guard of his longsword. Moira watched Vetnik and knew something was afoot. She motioned to those in the party behind her to ready themselves before she carefully began to slide down off her mount. The woman’s throat began to hum with a low buzzing sound like a chorus of locusts. She spoke once more, her voice now cold and accented by the strange cacophonous sounds. “Because…” Vetnik and Moira took sudden notice of the woman’s back. Her torso began to jerk and torque while her limbs and head remained perfectly still. “Because I fucking killed them myself!”

The woman whipped her head around and the party watched as her long brown hair coiled together and quickly hardened into a crown of twisting, pointed horns. Massive wings covered in deep crimson feathers exploded from her back and tore away her blood-and-mud soaked robes to reveal a statuesque nude body covered in rows of ever-emerging spines, spikes, and wiry feathers. Despite these changes, the creature’s face still carried the beauty and allure of a comely human. Moira’s studies in the church had taught her legends of such disturbing and lascivious creatures. Rumored to be fallen angels themselves, what stood before them was a lesser demon of a most ancient order.

“ Erinyes!” Moira snarled as she prepared to charge the demon.

Before she drew her blade, Trisoll pushed his ways towards the front line behind Moira and Vetnik.

“In Trithereon’s name, I cast you back into the Abyss,” Trisoll commanded with the holy triskelion of his patron raised high into the air for all to see!

Despite this bravado, Trisoll felt no blessing surge from the medallion down through his body. The erinyes cackled at the priest’s empty commands but Moira was quick to silence her. Moira drew Starstrike and swiftly dragged the blade across the erinyes’ belly. The winged beast fluttered back just enough to avoid the blade’s deepest cut and she looked to Moira, her fanged jaw clinched together as her lips twisted from demented smile to offended grimace. In return, the erinyes flapped her mighty crimson wings and released a gust of wind that blew throughout the yard and past the party. The gust kicked up loose dirt and leaves but more sinister than that was the spell the gust carried. Vetnik and Moira turned to see Trisoll’s expression descend into absolute fright. He quickly tucked his holy symbol back under his tunic and clawed his way past the knights and away from the convent. As they watched Trisoll flee, the party also watched as Lyssa spurred her horse into action to retreat away from the clearing. Vetnik’s hair began to stand on end and he shuttered as he felt a sudden presence press against his mind. He drew his sword and spun back around to see the erinyes’ gaze focused squarely on him. He furrowed his brow and watched as the erinyes began to furrow hers in concentration. Vetnik’s barbarian mind proved to be not such a simple place. Moments later, the erinyes felt herself expelled from inside of his head. The erinyes screeched in disgust, offended that a mere mortal could resist her charm. Vetnik stared the fiend down with a smirk that only seemed to anger the fiend more. Before the erinyes could strike out at the knight, a duo of thin, silver rays of light zipped across the yard towards them. The erinyes flapped its winged and swatted away the rays that, once hit, fell to the ground as two long silver arrows. The erinyes looked back to see Grunt sitting atop his horse with his mysterious longbow drawn. He began to pull his arm back and she watched as thin wisps of glowing silver mercury came together to form not only the string but also the arrows themselves!

Vetnik rushed the seemingly distracted demon on horseback but found that the erinyes was not only more alert than he anticipated, but that she was also most nimble. Despite his strength and speed Vetnik struggled to get a beat on her as she almost mockingly leaped out of range. Vetnik jumped down off of his horse and just as she stepped into range, Grum jumped into action bearing both Lyn and Slå: the lightning strike daggers! Grum slashed at the erinyes with Lyn and watched with amazement as she bended back and ducked beneath his swing effortlessly. Little did the demon realize that Grum had stunning reflexes of his own! Before rising back upright, Grum lifted Slå into the air and drove the electrically-charged blade deep into her left thigh. The erinyes shot straight back up and met face-to-mask with the thief, whose blade sizzled as it sent jolts of electric energy through the stab wound. Grum quickly withdrew his blade and tumbled backwards to escape her and watched as ink-black blood slowly ebbed from the wound down her leg. With the erinyes wounded and distracted, Moira took a chance and brought Starstrike down upon the very same leg Grum had pierced. Her blade collided with the erinyes’ scaly thigh upon the very wound Grum had left. Moira struggled to tear the blade out of the erinyes’ leg and watched as the fiend wailed while tearing its own leg from the sword. Before the erinyes could attack Moira, another round of Grunt’s radiant arrows zipped through the air in rapid succession. The first of the arrows completely missed but the second found a home and lodged itself in the bulky tendon of her wing. Thom leaped in once more with his silver-edged katana and slashed furiously at her, but the erinyes shrugged off the bard’s attacks with a flap of her wounded wing. Just as Thom prepared himself for a second attack, he watched as the erinyes spread her wings wide open to face Moira, woman to woman. Even Thom marveled at the sight, but only briefly, when the look he saw in the demon’s eyes shook him. The erinyes’ fiery eyes were suddenly flooded with a blackness that Thom himself recalled.

“Moira, look away!” Thom cried out.

Moira turned to Vetnik and gone were her pristine amber eyes, replaced by orbs of black void. As the paladin drew her blade, ready to charge her barbarian companion, the erinyes’ body quickly dissolved from sight. Thom knew this trick all to well as he often played it himself. With a single, confident wave of his hand, an arc of shimmering golden particles appeared in the air above those battling in front of him. He clenched his fist and watched as the golden arc shattered into millions of tiny specks of glitterdust. The sparkling particles rained down upon Moira and Vetnik, and outlined the invisible fiend. The party watched as Moira staggered back, wildly rubbing her face with one hand while doing her best to balance Starstrike with the other. Before Vetnik could reach out for Moira, he saw the shape of the erinyes covered in glitterdust. He watched as she flapped her wings in a vain attempt to blow the golden dust off of her body and away from the battlefield. Vetnik quickly maneuvered around the blinded Moira and, with his longsword drawn, he swiped at the gold-speckled shape. With the first swing he could feel the blade drag and cut against the erinyes’ flesh but it was with the second where he felt his blade sink deep into the unseen thickness of the demon’s body. Vetnik watched the glittering silhouette of the erinyes struggle to pull her body from off of the end of his blade. He quickly glanced at Moira and saw her continue to struggle to regain her sight while swinging Starstrike flimsily and frantically like some cornered beast. With one mighty thrust, Vetnik ripped his sword up through the torso of the wounded demon. As his blade tore through the erinyes’ shoulder, her bifurcated body instantly returned to the visible plane with a geyser of thick, black demon’s blood. Her corpse dropped to the ground, motionless and still covered in golden glitter.

Lyssa and Trisoll stopped in their respective tracks and felt sudden relief from the fear that plagued them. Both of their minds were calm once again. They turned around and looked at each other before looking down the path to the yard of the convent where the others remained. The demon’s fear spell had left them both in quite a state, so much so that the pair realized they were almost back to the main road! Lyssa grumbled and motioned for Trisoll to ride back together to join the others on her horse. Vetnik shook what blood he could off of his sword and spit in disgust at the erinyes’ wretched body. He looked around and saw the Black brothers and Grunt putting away their weapons as well. He then sheathed his blade before rushing to Moira’s side. As he placed his hand upon her shoulder, she snatched her arm away and continued to wipe her face more frantically than before. Vetnik stood back and watched Moira stumble towards the convent’s front doors. It was clear she was overwhelmed and as her companion, knew when he needed to back away. She had not only failed to slay the erinyes, but became its servant in attempting to do so. Though enslaved only briefly, the erinyes’ charm had slithered and burrowed its way through every private avenue in her mind and left behind an unholy, stagnant black trail that Moira found difficult to shake. Moira drug her sword against the beaten dirt path leading up to the doors of the convent. Her back remained turned to the others as she moved closer to the convent, her eyes red with irritation from the glitterdust. The others gathered themselves together and watched Moira stumble ahead. Though the erinyes had been slain, the aura of evil it left behind clung to the the convent grounds that felt like tiny pins shooting up Moira’s nervous system. Moira pushed the chantry door open without prior warning; in her heart, she already knew what was waiting for her behind the doors of the hallowed building. Death waited in all of its grizzly and uncompromising detail. Scattered on the floor and in between the pews were the bodies of nine of Cuthbert’s faithful daughters. Trails of blood from each body made chaotic and unreasonable designs from the floorboards, up the walls, all the way up to the ceiling of the chantry. Moira stood in the doorway and began to buckle under the weight of not only the horrid sights before her, but also the events leading up to her journey to Furyondy. To contain herself, she quickly clasped her gauntleted hand over her mouth as tears began to flood her quivering cheeks. She did her best to steady her panicked breathing but could no longer contain herself as she’d been trained to do. Her body was limp and made no effort to move aside as a pair of unseen servants summoned by Thom pushed past her to tend to the dead.

“We… we avenged you sisters,” Moira began to pray, sobbing through her rites. “May… may… Cortox… may He guide you safely from this plane and may Cuthbert welcome you to his kingdom with open and loving arms.”

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Lyssa petitions to keep the gems found in their raids in exchange for a reduced share of the loot.

Dagger (3) – Lyssa
Wooden scale armor (human/half elf) – Trisoll
Hammer (2) – sell
Sword (1 longsword) – Grunt
Extremely lightweight platemail (2 Elven plate mail) – Grum
Sword (4 longsword) – Vetnik
Full plate armor (1) – Moira

As Thom relearns his identify spells, Kling-taa returns in Halfling form and informs them that he claims the coin as his own and that everything else is there’s to keep. Moira recalls that copper dragons are notoriously greedy dragons.

Lyssa raids the corpse of the blue dragon. She sees the heart has been torn out and is resting several yards away, dissolving in a bubbling pool of cooling acid. Lyssa searches for the blue dragon’s lightning gullet but it’s been destroyed by Kling-taa. She collects a couple scales, a piece of tongue, wing leather, and dragon’s blood. She asks Moira to help hack away the great horn on the dragon’s skull. As Moira saws off the horn, she looks at Lyssa and requests: “When things are calm, let us talk.”

Kling-taa transforms into a stone giant and scoops up all the coin he can. As he leaves the cave, he calls back and tells them “Know that you have a friend in Kling-taa.” Grunt hacks away at the corpse of a wyrmling to use its hide in the making of a helmet and blue dragon leather armor. Thom culls teeth and claws for use in making arrows and edge weapons.

Back in Casaille, Lyks and Burbis find themselves at the Cerzan compound. Lyks commands Burbis to scout ahead, much to his surprise. Burbis obliges, casting invisibility over himself and leaves. Burbis breaks into the compound and scopes out the first level of the house and moves upstairs on the second level. Downstairs, Lyks sees the reflection of shimmering lights. Lyks takes bird form and sees its Burbis casting a dancing lights spell to distract a group of guards. Lyks sees servants here and there coming and going about the compound. He hangs out hovering and after a few moments he sees Violetta leaving the compound with a basket of laundry. Burbis whispers to Lyks to come down.
“Violetta is here with the other servant girls, and four guards with three members of the Cerzan family (1 female 2 males).

Lyks returns to human, visible form and knocks on the front door. A servant girl answers.
“How may I help you?”
“May I speak with your masters, Lord Cerzan?”
“Who shall I announce you as?”
“Zemilay Lyks.”

The servant welcomes him inside after a few moments. He sees Violetta moving through the house among other servant girls. She is lost in her duties and completely ignores Zemilay. Lyks is led upstairs to Lord Corben’s quarters. The office is an example in luxury.

“Welcome to my home, Zemilay Lyks.”
“Good to meet you.”
“Likewise, such an accomplished man. I know very little of what’s transpired here.”
“I am here to inquire about procuring one of your servants.”
“I see. The one involved with the passing of my father?”
“Yes.”
“As I understand, she has remanded herself into our family’s keep under her own will. Is that correct? You understand, I’ve lost a father here but I have also gained great wealth. So… appeal to me in some other way. Why should I grant this woman her freedom?”
“Name your price.”
“Do you offer a boon?”
“A boon paid by me is a most substantial thing. So, how can I help you?”
“I believe there is a way you can help me, if we can make the extraction of said servant in secret.”

Violetta is brought in. She is shocked to see Zemilay here.

“My show of good faith. Now, Mr. Baggleton, shall we discuss of this intrigue?”

“Why did you come for me? “
“Don’t worry, you’re safe. Trust me.”
“I can’t leave without the other girls. They’re my converts.”
“What makes you think we’re leaving without the other girls.”

Burbis finishes outlining his illusion for torturing Violetta for public spectacle. He finds the act distasteful but will do it because Lyks asks.

Violetta pleas for the release of the other girls. As they speak, Burbis puts Corben under a charm spell. Lyks motions to her to rush and get the other women. Burbis has tricked Corben into believing he’s been given a tremendous amount of money for all of the women. After a minute, Lyssa’s mother returns to the office with the other servant girls.

“You have to trust me and we have to move fast. Come, quickly!”

They shuffle out of the house. Lyks leaves his sack of pp and commands Burbis to cloak them in invisibility. Burbis throws down a bag of lead and casts fool’s gold over it. “We were never here!” Burbis whispers mischievously to Lord Corben before the pair leave to meet with the other women outside of the compound.

Lyks unfurls the magic rug much to the servant girls’ horror. “You have 10 seconds to decide. Come!”

The women cloister onto the magic rug with Violetta reassuring the women that they’ll be all right. Lyks throws sleep dust over them, knocking them out as he and Burbis lead the carpet into the air.

Back in the cave, they decide how to get out of Dagger Rock. Thom casts Spider Climb over Trisoll, who loves the effect, and skitters up the walls with Thom.
“Stop fooling around and get up there!” Vetnik yells up to Tris. Lyssa meets the boys at the surface using a dimension door. She hands off one of the scales to Thom who uses it as part of a pully system. After about 40 minutes, they’re at the mouth of the cave together. Outside, Thom and Lyssa’s familiars wait with their horses.

Lyks returns to Greyhawk and drops the former servants and Violetta off at the church. Violetta thanks him and promises them sanctuary. “Cortox’s blessing to you, Zemilay Lyks.”
Back at home, Lyks finds George on the floor drunk, his eyes red with tears.
“Did Mellisandre finally break up with you?”
“No… she’s dead!”
“Tell me what happened.” Lyks asks, picking him off the ground.
“Someone killed her. Where was she found?”
“Her house.”
“I… I never forget…her blood! Without her, no more potions for me. I’ll wither and die.”
“We’re going to get you to bed.”
“I want to die!”
Burbis looks crestfallen and puts his hat to his heart and watched Lyks cart George to his bedroom.

Burbis and Lyks visit Mellisandre’s home and find the words scrawled in blood: I NEVER FORGET. Burbis scraps a bit of blood onto a piece of cloth and places it into his satchel.
“Go see Xanti. Ask her to scry. I will be in touch with her, but I must visit the church of Beory.”

Lyks goes to the church of Beory to commune with the spirits in Greyhawk with 6 other priests of the church. Their prayers are strong but they feel powerful attempts to block them from divinating. Through a crack in the psychic block, Lyks gleans a familiar and wicked energy but he can’t quite place its origin. Zemilay rushes back to Pimpleton, where Xanti does as she’s asked and consults her crystal ball. “I felt something blocking—“
“You have to leave,” he says to her coldly.
“No… Nonono, I cannot! Not again!” Xanti protests, sobbing into her husband’s chest.
“You must!” Zemilay replies, trying to keep his stoic front.
“What about our boy?”
“He is a man now and makes his own decisions and can protect himself. But you… I have to protect.”
Xanti throws her arms around Lyks and sobs her love for him. Tearfully, Lyks puts his hand on her head and channels the image he scried. Xanti gets goosebumps as the dark sensations course from his brain to hers.
“You must go. Leave your crystal ball here.”
Xanti looks up and Zemilay wipes away the tears from her cheek. She leaves her scrying room to begin packing up her things. Once alone, Lyks looks upon her crystal ball and with his might staff, smashes the orb.

Lyks returns to his study where Burbis sneakily follows. Lyks sits at his desk and after riling through one of the locked drawers, he retrieves a small vial with a piece of burned, black flesh. Burbis covers his mouth in horror, knowing the frightful source of the skin.

Back in the Bright Lands, the party saddles up and sets out back to the Celadon Forest and Thorn’s Circle. Their journey through the desert is uneventful as they enter into the Gnatmarsh and deeper into the sylvan wood of the Celadon Forest. In the wood, Grum spies at least six Owlbears trudging their way.

Grunt slips off his horse and tucks into the shadows. He aims Hank for one of the Owlbears and sticks a bolt into its backside. Thom unleashes burning hands upon another of the owlbears, setting its feathery hide ablaze. It also sets nearby brush on fire and retreats from the pack. Grum shoots into the owlbear that Grunt attacked and in turn it tries to escape. Vetnik rushes into the pack and cuts into one of the owlbears. Trisoll blesses the party (all except for Grunt and Lyssa, who lie just outside the range of the blessing.) The owlbears take the offense and rush the party. One of the owlbears slash into Grum, hacking into his left leg. Another lunges at Grunt and claws into him. Two of the owlbears rush Vetnik; Vetnik dodges the first completely but the falls into the second’s slashing claws. Moira rushes to Grum’s aid and quickly lays hands upon his gored leg. Unable to get a clear view of any of the owlbears, Lyssa struggles to direct a row of magic missiles and as such releases two of them with weakened intensity.

Two of the owlbears leaves immediately. A second lashes out at Grum, who continues to bleed out. Moira struggles to protect and heal Grum and fend off the owlbear. Grunt’s owlbear continues to slash into him. The pair of owlbears on Vetnik continue to slash into him. Moira slashes into Grum’s attacker and sticks it just enough to slay it. Grunt aims his blade for the owlbear’s soft belly but misses. With his attacker slayed, Grum quickly binds his wounded leg to stop the bleeding. Vetnik swings and cuts into both his attackers. Lyssa attempts to cast telekinesis but instead is flooded by a wild surge. Suddenly, she sees nothing in front of her. Behind her see hears the sounds of battle. She turns around to see her companions fending off the owlbears (she was turned 180degrees). Thom drums while Trisoll rushes in to heal Grum futher.
Grum supports Vetnik by firing a pair of arrows into the owlbear engaged in battle with him. Both attempts miss. Trusting the Vetnik can handle himself, Moira bolts towards Grunt’s attacker and stabs it in the back with Starstrike. Despite the blow, the owlbear gets one last strike, causing Grunt to black out from the attack.
“I need aid!” Moira cries out.
Before Vetnik can react, his attacker swipes at him again. Thom rushes up to Grum and the pair fire off arrows back to back. Trisoll runs around to Grunt and blesses him with a heal prayer, bringing him back from the brink. Full of frustration, Lyssa casts telekinesis successfully on the owlbear attacking Vetnik and flings it 300 ft away from the cavalier. Vetnik nods thank you and rushes across the field and stabs into the last owlbear and fells it. Its corpse slumps down beside Grunt, Trisoll and Moira. Trisoll staggers back to his feet and gives a second healing blessing to Grum. Thom pats Grum on the back and reups his armor spell.

They forgo camp to ride straight to Thorn’s Circle. Melinore greets them after 2 days where she asks Beory’s blessing to heal Grum and Grunt (and Vetnik, though he’s reluctant.) “Thank you, m’lady.” He says with a stiff upper lip.
Melinore shows them back to the Ways of the World, where Trisoll opens up the portal with his ring. Vetnik steps in first followed by Grunt. Grum and Thom follow. Trisoll follows. Before stepping through, Moira places her hand on Lyssa’s shoulder and guides her through. Moira is the last to enter and together they are back in Greyhawk inside the Church of Beory.

“We should go back to the manor and check on Lyks.” Moira suggests.

After a 20 minute walk, they’re greeted by a tearful Xanti. She looks at Trisoll. “Mother, what’s wrong?”
She grabs him and holds him. Vetnik steps through and heads to see Lyks in the study. Moira follows then the Black bros, Lyssa and Grunt.

Lyks sits everyone down, his disposition even more abrasive than usual. He and Xanti enter the study, both emotional.

“Where is George?” Moira.
“George has taken a leave of absence.” Zemilay. “George’s lover, Mellisandre has passed.”
“That’s awful. Poor George.”
“It was no accident. It was murder.”
“Who?” Thom. “Was this a guild attack? How was she killed?”
“Her throat was slit and a message was left in her blood.”
“She was an accomplished mage. How could—“
“A long time ago she helped us. I promised her safety, but it was a promise I apparently could not keep.”
Moira draws a sharp breath. Vetnik grabs her hand and squeezes it.
“Kr’zzt is coming for us.”
“What was the message that was left in her home?” Lyssa
“I never forget.” Lyks

“Is that why mother has to leave?” Tri
“Yes. I’d send you away too but you’re too stubborn.” Zem
“Well, father. We’ll end this. Once and for all. No more living in fear, for any of us!” Trisoll says with false bravado.

“Lyks, my father still has his jaw. It’s how I know of his story.”
“Contact your father. We must keep the last remains of him safe.”
“Do we have a plan?” Th
“I’ve been slowly ruminating plans for years and years—“
“Kr’zzt killed my grandfather.” Moira says tearfully. “I know the stories. We have to stop him! We have to find my brother and redeem him! We have to find Barth.”
“Trust nothing and no one.”
“I have to go see my father!”

The party parts ways. Vetnik stays with Trisoll at the manor. As the party begins to part ways, Lyssa pulls Zemilay aside and asks about Violetta. He tells her that Violetta is safe at the church.
“What may I do for you at this hour?”
“Violetta, is she here?”
“Sister Violetta is resting. “

The attendant welcomes her inside and Violetta comes. “Your friends are wonderful. Not just me but my new sisters as well. I’m so happy you’re not imprisoned. I know … I understand why you did what you did and you’ll find forgiveness in the next life. I have certainly already forgiven you. It is not my place to judge.”
“But do you think what I did was wrong.”
“Yes. But as my daughter, I love you unconditionally.”
Lyssa awkwardly says goodbye to her mother and leaves her at the church.

Later that night, Moira has an all too vivid night terror, a dream of the five original children stumbling upon a small silver disc. The disc is the source of a luminescent rip in the fabric of space. Moria’s brother Barth lets curiosity get the better of him and bravely steps forward, disappearing in a flash of light. Young Moira charges after her brother, calling out his name, followed by the rest of the children. There on a twisted plateau she sees a wizard. A furious battle is underway between the mage and a shadowed foe. The movement of the children distracts the thaumaturge and he turns away from his opponent to shout a warning. The warning is cut short however as a mammoth fireball immolates the wizard. The children, consumed by terror, dash towards the portal they entered. Barth hurries the Black twins, Trisoll and his sister through the shimmering tear in the air before finally making his way through. He pauses as he exits and looks back, his gaze meeting that of the unknown nemesis. Barth’s eyes grow wide as he cannonballs through the rift and hits the ground in a barrel roll before righting himself. The other children are a small distance away and the young Steelshaper takes this unseen opportunity to snatch up the silver disc from the meadow and secret it away in a small pouch.

Moira slowly realizes her dream is actually a recalled memory. She starts to think back to the times Barth seemed distant after that, distracted even. The bond of siblings never the same going forward. The pieces begin to fall into place as Moira feels an unspeakable thought take purchase in her body’s center, her muscles beginning to spasm in horrific realization. Her brother’s imaginary friend “Zee zee” could only be their parents’ most formidable foe, the one who had vowed their utter destruction. Kr’zzt, the dread drow wizard was the one guiding him into the darkness.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

It had been a week since the city of Greyhawk was abuzz with the trial of Lyssa of Bayerton and the murder of one of the city’s patriarchs: Lord Seron of House Cerzan. Despite this though, life went on in the city. Lyssa had heeded the advice of her friends and mentors and kept to herself. She withdrew herself from Greyhawk by day, only occasionally venturing out under the cover of night for lonesome walks through the city, careful to avoid the judgmental glare of fellow townsfolk. Elswhere, her mother, Violetta, was well on her way to Casaille to serve her sentence as indentured servant to the Cerzans at their lumber trading post a week’s time away from Greyhawk. Despite her growing power, Lyssa heeded the initial advice of her companions to wait and let cooler heads prevail. Any reckless action taken upon the affluent house to retrieve her mother would certainly be scrutinized and bring even more pressure down upon not only Lyssa but her friends and their dealings as well. So, she waited, occasionally gazing into her hand-me-down crystal ball, unable to focus enough to dissect the murky visions of things that were, are, and have yet to be.

The party had not been together in total since the trial. A certain hesitation seemed to hover over them as a whole, and so, they divided their time among their own pursuits. Most of the party had sanctuaries and secret lairs to build and kept themselves distracted accordingly. Moira had noticed a certain lack of morale among her own workers since Violetta’s departure, something she too seemed affected by. Trisoll spent the week building his own sanctuary in the woods among his animal helpers, and while he appreciated their help and companionship, it did make him pine for the camaraderie of his humanoid friends. Despite having a more intimate companion in Melina, Thom felt the itch of adventure nag at him once more. That itch was only irritated further by the rumors that seemed cross he and Melina’s paths over the week. One in particular piqued his interest: it told of a treasure trove in a land recently visited, the Bright Lands. There, in a carved out cave called Dagger Rock, there was said to be old Blue Dragon that guarded a modest yet potent hoard of treasures!

After a week’s time the party rendezvoused at Pimpleton Manor to partake in a family style meal as they’d done many a time in the months they’d spent together. Those in the party who lived elsewhere poured into the house one by one, greeted by Vetnik and Burbis. Moira entered, greeting the ice barbarian with a soft and quick kiss upon the cheek. Grunt and Grum entered both reeking of a hard day’s work, having both spent the day toiling in the marsh land digging out the last of the earth for Grum’s bunker. Once almost entirely assembled, the party caught up with each other over tea and light-hearted conversation. The last to enter was Lyssa, who’d made good use of her ability to teleport as to avoid facing the people of Greyhawk. The reception to greet the introverted mage was much the same as it had always been, and for the first time in a week, Lyssa felt the warmth of something familiar. In the kitchen, George baked and boiled the night away on yet another one of his infamously elaborate dinners.

Xanti and Burbis (to a much lesser extent) set the table while Zemilay hobbled from out of his study to greet his younger charges. As the party gathered in the dining room, Grum pulled Lyssa aside.

“I just wanted to let you know I got word about your mother.”
Lyssa looked to him, silently furrowing her brow in tense anticipation.
“I sent Marit and a couple of scouts to follow her caravan to Casaille. It looks like she’s safe. She’s being treated well, well fed. She’s even converted most of the servant girls to Cortox if you can believe it.”
“I can,” she replied, her eyes darting back and forth between him and the others. “What else?”
“She… she is working though. The Cerzans have not spared her that.”
Lyssa’s sighed as she wiped the hair away from her face. She held onto Grum’s arm for a moment, a show of unspoken thanks before lumbering to her seat at the dining table.

Lyssa and Grum entered the dining room as Thom held court with the others about a couple of salacious rumors circulating through the seedier currents of town. “The town’s apparently overrun by orcs! More intriguing than that though is what I heard lurks back in the Bright Lands.”
“Weren’t we just there?”
“Correct, brother! However, deeper in the desert there’s a small cave called Dagger Rock.

“I have to go to Casaille,” Lyssa interjected. “I’m not asking any of you to come with me. This is just something I have to do.”

She asks the others not to come, but Grum insists.

Zemilay reveals that he is willing to purchase her back.

“What if what they want is?”
“Everyone has a price.”

A week after the trial, the party gather themselves together for another adventure. They organize a partnership with Raven’s Claw contacts to check on the town overrun by orcs while they prepare to head back to the Bright Lands to find Dagger Rock.

“Vetnik, send word to whomever you can from Raven’s Claw and tell them of the orc infestation in (VILLAGE NAME). The rest of us will ride to the Bright Lands. Lyssa, come with us. I can guarantee there’s no better vent of frustration than the chance to slay a dragon.”

Lyks and Burbis travel to Casaille to pay for Violetta’s freedom, taking to the air via Snowflake with platinum and a magic rug. 800pp.

The rest of the party sets off to visit the Bright Lands. Trisoll finds a Way of the World in the Celadon Forest, north of the desert lands. They take the Way from the Church of Beory to Thorn Circle, 5 days ride from the desert.

The emerge and are met by a gorgeous Elven attendant whose taken aback by the lack of a druid. She stands guard as Trisoll and the others emerge, but she relaxes seeing his dopey posture and gait.

“Hello stranger, who are you to come through the great Thorn Circle?”
“Humble students of Grandmaster Zemilay Lyks.”
“Druid of Greyhawk?”
“He’s my dad!”
She smiles and nods at him. “You must be a wonderful man. I am Melinore Silverleaf. The Council of the Thorn is not in congress at this time, but please feel free to use the grounds to your need. The lands are bountiful.”
Thom tries to woo Melinore but she seems unimpressed and is more taken with Trisoll.

She calls her horse, a unicorn named Selern to accompany the party safely to the edge of the forest. Thom continues to flirt, which she is more taken with. After racing to the edge of the forest, a woman’s shriek cuts through the calm of the forest. Vetnik rides ahead with the others following after.

“Sir knight! My child was taken by a goblin. He was taken into the cave, but I dare not enter.”

The company takes marching order into the cave with the knights at the front. The cave is moist, humid and damp. Moss and fungus run rampant. As they wave their torches, they see the glistening of green slime dangling from the ceiling across from them. Thom approaches and casts Burning Hands over it. Melinore sets her staff ablaze while Grum searches for traps and finds/dismantles a crude spear trap. Thom and Melinore work to burn it from the cave wall.

Moira takes the lead and rushes further into the cave. She spies a decline, and asks Grum and Grunt to scout ahead. Clinging inside, they travel deeper and encounter a nest of giant centipedes. Melinore casts Repel Insects. Further past the corridor, they hear the sound of a crying boy followed by metal scraping against metal and the mawing of a goblin. Grum moves forward but he kicks a rock, taking the attention of the knife-wielding goblin. Grum steps out of the shadows and leaps to attack, but misses just barely. Before the goblin can retaliate, Vetnik steps in and cuts him down with his longsword. Melinore gives Vetnik the child and together they leave the cave.

After handing off the child, Melinore leads the team to the edge of the woods. As the lush green fade to dusty, arid lands, Thom calls out to nature in search of a Familiar of his own. In the desert, he finds a buzzard, and names it Spitfire. A half a days travel in the desert, they hear a struggle between a group of beings. Grum and Grunt scout ahead silently. Over the hill they see a brilliant copper metallic Dragon being bound by orcs and bugbears trying to subdue it. Grum leaps in with Lyn and sticks a bugbear. While he dies, Grunt jams his short sword into a nearby bugbear – while not killing it, severly wounds it.

Vetnik charges in on horseback and finishes Grunt’s attack and follows up with a shield bash to a nearby orc. With one bugbear remaining, the orcs take action. The dragon urges freedom! Moira slays the last bugbear and calls out to the orcs: “Your masters are dead! You will follow if you stay!” Grum attempts to take an orc down but falls to the cracked earth. Despite this fumble, the orcs flee the battlefield.

Copper dragon Kling-taa shrinks down into the form of a handsome Halfling with copper eyes.

Down in the cave, the scouts and Kling-taa navigate through the carved out tunnels. They stumble upon an Otyugh digging through dragon shit. Grum quickly draws his longbow and while his first arrow misses, the second destroys its right leg. Thom leaps down with his Wakashazi and kitana in hand but both miss. Lyssa swings behind the Otyugh and immolates it with a burst of Burning Hands. As the beasts cries out in pain, Trisoll casts Spikestone and turns the earth beneath the beast into jagged spears of stone. Kling-ta turns the ceiling above into mud and rains wet earth on top of it.

Before moving on, Trisoll prays for Protection from Lightning and bestows the blessing on Vetnik. Lyssa casts Chaos Shield on herself. Thom enchants his katana blade and casts strength over himself and his brother. He casts invisibility on Grunt and together the party moves on to the chamber of the blue dragon.

Grum peeks inside the blue dragon’s chamber. A voice calls out to warn them but they see nothing.

Suddenly, those with exposed hair in the party could feel it begin to stand on end. The air in the chamber sizzled with electric energy, causing the flesh of the party to tingle. Vetnik quickly unsheathed his shield and together they stood, back-to-back, ready for the creature lurking in the darkness. Trisoll gripped his holy symbol tight to his chest and began to pray to Trithereon. As Trisoll uttered the final word in his incantation, his body was swathed in an invisible cloak of bravery. It was at that very same moment when those in the party could hear the buzzing of electricity echo through the chamber. Vetnik turned and could see a faint blue glow at the end of the chamber, but before he could react, the blue glow bolted straight towards them with a terrifying screech. The party braved themselves as a fearsome sight emerged out of the darkness and into their torchlight.

The beast was long and covered in rows and rows of shimmering blue scales. Crowned with a horn that resembled a small mountaintop charged with a bolt of lightning, its head and neck were covered in spiked, scaly ridges that crackled with static energy. This was a blue dragon of legend, and judging by its size and brilliant scaly decorations, this beast in particular was quite aged. The party rallied behind Vetnik as the blue dragon reared its scaly face. As it opened its mouth to reveal jaws laced with massive fangs, Vetnik could see the same crackling blue glow fill the blue dragon’s throat.
“Get behind me!” Vetnik called out to his friends out as the blue dragon arched its neck back. From behind the safety of his shield, Vetnik watched as the skin beneath the scales of the blue dragon’s throat burned blue as it flooded with electrical energy. The blue dragon released its terrifying breath of pure lightning with a great and horrifying roar! The once-dark chamber lit up with the blue glow of his breath. The party gathered behind Vetnik as best as they could, but the overwhelming power of the dragon’s lightning breath splintered off his shield and rained down around them, burning and striking them wherever possible. Grum quickly drew his daggers, Lyn and Slå, and raised them carefully into the air in hopes of attracting some of the dragon’s electrical breath. His gambit paid off as veins of lightning coursed into the blades, charging them up beyond capacity.
“Aghhhhh!” Grum howled as the daggers burned with electricity, heating the metal almost to the point of injury.
Vetnik gritted his teeth as his shield absorbed the brunt of the blast. He and Trisoll thanked Trithereon silently and separately for having blessed him with a well-timed protection against lightning.

Kling-taa steps forward and shifts back into his dragon form and physically begins to tear into the dragon. Vetnik gets his bearings and cuts into it with his longsword but misses. As Kling-taa moves the blue dragon out of the way, he reveals a blue dragon brood that begins to rush the party. Trisoll is the first to get shocked by the hatchling but he saves. Grum is the second target but he is less fortunate. Vetnik is the third attacked but takes little damage. Grunt stumbles back to his feet, breaks his invisibility and tries to fire from Hank; first misses and the second barely lands. Lyssa watched as her companions fought off the wyrmlings while Kling-taa continued to struggle in claw-to-tooth combat against the roaring blue dragon. Lyssa began to gesture with her hands and focused on the ribbons of mystical energies floating throughout the cave. With a wave of her hand, Lyssa summoned into being a writhing aura of magical energy that snaked from her hands towards the blue dragon. She watched as the ribbon of energy coiled around the massive dragon’s body and flickered, changing the very field of possibility around the beast. Despite its movements, the blue dragon couldn’t seem to shake the ribbon of energy. Lyssa had successfully hexed her first dragon! Trisoll casts Pyrotechnics over the torches in the party and blinds two of the hatchlings. Thom rushes in to take on the blue dragon and stabs him with his katana for 9. Moira finishes off the round by swiping at a hatchling but misses.

Lyssa continued to focus her magicks on the giant blue dragon. She honed in on the ribbon of unlucky energy coiling around the dragon and with a sudden flick of her wrists, she watched as the ribbon tightened itself around the body of the blue dragon and washed over him, engulfing him in an aura of paralyzation. Kling-taa was quite familiar with the effects of a hold monster spell and took the opportunity to sink his jaws into the throat of his held opponent. The blue dragon was barely able to wince as Kling-taa tore into his neck, shredding through lapis-colored scales and drawing blood that seemed to have a faint, electrical glow coursing through it.

Trisoll casts a blessing over the party, followed by a couple more bolts from Grunt. He attacks and his first arrow lands. His second attack misses and he stumbles. While the other two wyrmlings writhe blindly, the third lunges at Grunt and breathes its lightning breathe on him, almost killing him. A second wyrmling bites into Vetnik while the third claws at Trisoll, tearing into his torso. Thom continues to hack into the paralyzed blue dragon. Grum saves Grunt from a wyrmling, firing four arrows into it and slaying it. Seeing the paralyzed blue dragon, Vetnik rushes in to aid Thom. Moira continues to fight off the wyrmling and fends off Trisoll’s attacker, the first swing misses but the second cuts through its torso, disemboweling it.

Thom continues to hack into the blue dragon. Moira looks to Vetnik for direction, and he points her to the blue dragon. She charges at it but misses at first. The second strike pierces it. Lyssa fires a Lance of Disruption at both the hatchling and big blue. The wyrmling saves but the dragon cannot. Grunt slays the final wyrmling. Thom continues to slash at the dragon and is joined by both Grum and Vetnik. Grum is the first of the party to slay the dragon with a final arrow.

No longer held by Lyssa’s spell, the blue dragon’s battle-ravaged body buckled lifelessly to the ground, kicking up dirt and shaking the earth beneath the party’s feet. Kling-taa stood over the blue dragon’s body and let out a deep, throaty howl that echoed through every one of the caverns inside Dagger Rock. The party looked on as Kling-taa leaned his head down and began to lap up the still-warm blood of the fallen dragon with his long, coppery tongue.

“Everything,” Thom began cutting through the solemn silence, “every scale, every tooth, anything!” With their blades drawn, he and Lyssa moved towards the corpse of the blue dragon. Kling-taa lifted his head up and huffed as they sauntered forward.
“What are you doing?” the copper dragon asked, wiping the blood from his mouth. Thom paused and looked up at Kling-taa while Lyssa continued to move forward. “Show our fallen opponent some respect!” Lyssa straddled the gored throat of the blue dragon but paused as Thom and the copper dragon continued to speak.
“My apologies, Kling-taa. We mean no disrespect. If anything, we’d hate to let any piece of him go to waste!”
“Your attitude towards scavenging this pitiful corpse is quite unnerving.”
“We’re no different from the hyena or the vulture,” Thom began to reason. “His body’s no use to him now, we may as well put it to more… noble applications.”
Grum stepped forward, his weapons sheathed, and interjected in support of his brother. “Well to be honest Kling-taa, his body’s worth quite a lot to us. But, if you wish us to give you a moment, it’s the least we can do. We would never wish to disrespect either of you!”
Kling-taa scratched his scaly chin and pondered for a moment. “Very well. Allow me to commit his body to the grave. Then, after I have beseeched Cronepsis’ parting judgement, will it be yours to do with as you like.”
“Of course. Do what you need to do, my companions and I will search the rest of the cave while you pay your respects.” Thom and Grum concede to Kling-taa’s wishes and together they and Lyssa leave the body of the blue dragon to sack the chamber.

Meanwhile, Moira looked over her party and saw one of them not present at the body of the blue dragon. Moira looked back and was startled when she saw her companion Grunt slumped against the side of the chamber. Moira broke away from the rest of the party and kneeled beside him.
“By Cortox, you’re hurt!”
“You’re perceptive,” Grunt joked back with a strained, scratchy voice.
Moira looked his body over and noticed the burns covering his skin and garb. Most atrocious of these burns is the one covering his face and neck, dealt to him by a wyrmlings’ vicious lightning breath. She slowly lifted his singed hood up over his head to reveal the patchwork of red and white blisters decorating his swollen face. Moira removed her gauntlets and placed her soft, milky hands upon the weeping wounds of his face and neck. She closed her eyes and softly began to pray for Cortox’s healing blessing. Even in the bowels of Dagger Rock, her pleas were answered. Grunt could slowly feel the fiery nerves of his face begin to calm as they regenerated underneath his flesh. The smoky aftertaste of dragon’s breath left his throat and lungs as the tight blistering flesh of his face and neck began to shrink and heal. Moira lifted her hands and, while burns and blisters still remained, Cortox had bestowed onto him a month’s worth of mending in only a minute’s time.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Upon returning to Greyhawk with the fallen assassin G’aldem M’lek in custody, the gate masters wave the party inside and heartily greet them. In the city square, they’re greeted with a different reception: a group of sixteen City Guard, four of whom are armed with strange metal rods with polished, clear orbs atop them. A familiar face steps to the front, the Captain of the Guard Garyn Waller:

“Lyssa of Bayerton. You are commanded to come with us. You are wanted for your connection in the murder of Lord Soren of House Cerzan.”

The party quickly surveys each other with shocked expressions.

“What did you do, Lyssa?!” Moira asks with wide and worried eyes. Lyssa looks back at her with concern.

Vetnik urges Captain Waller to reveal what grounds they have to charge his companion with such a heinous act. Captain Waller gives him a copy of the subpoena, signed off by both the Magistrate of Greyhawk, Certrian Gorven, as well as a priest from the church of St. Cuthbert, Garvin Bortheus, who also conducted an official scrying at the behest of both the city and House Cerzan. His divinations revealed details about her presence in his home at the time of his death.

As the guards approach to detain Lyssa, Thom began to protest on her behalf. He also used this time to get close enough to Lyssa, and with his Gourd of Travel in one hand he took hold of her arm with his other. Instead of the pair instantly teleporting away, the party as well as the guards, watched as one of the orbs of the staves flickered with a brilliant cyan light. Thom shook his gourd and noticed that all the seeds inside were accounted for. Before either could react, the guards rushed the party and tore Lyssa down from off of her horse and began to quickly bind her hands with rope. As she struggled and spat at the guards, Thom slipped through them and jumped to her side. Lyssa looked back to her companions (namely Moira) and silently pleaded for aid. Moira’s face was a study in disappointment, but despite her expression, calls down to her friends. “I will tell of your good deeds!”

For his interference, Thom is also apprehended. As a guard attempts to bind his hands, Thom uses a technique taught to him by his parents to twist his arms in such a subtle way that it prevents knots from being tied as tight as they ought to be. The party watches as the guards begin to drag Lyssa and Thom off. Captain Waller leaves Vetnik with a copy of the warrant and follows the rest of his company to the jails. On the way, Lyssa intentionally stumbles and falls to the ground. On the ground, she tries to tap into a spell but before she can release the magical energy, a second stave flares. The guards quickly swarm her, yank her up, and rush her to the jails. In the chaos, Thom uses the opportunity to pilfer a key from a nearby guard’s belt (unsure of what it unlocks).

“Until further notice, I am her counsel,” Thom informs Captain Waller.
“And you want to stay in a cell?”
“Well, until I get better counsel than myself.”

As Thom speaks to the Captain, Lyssa is quickly ushered off into a solitary cell made especially for those with magical abilities.

They free Thom, and he agrees to go counsel her alone.
“Do you have royal blood?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I know your father is a little harder to pin down, but does your mother come from any noble stock?”
“I mean… she. We are Ygranere.”
“I’ll press for trial by combat. Until then, disavow any wrongdoing. If that fails, we’ll improvise.” Thom discreetly palms Lyssa the key he lifted from the guard and takes his leave.

Outside, Grunt slips away from the rest of the party to inspect the jail in search of possible entrances and exits unknown to others. While he searches, Xoston probes the party from Greyhawk for their thoughts.
“Is your companion some kind of murderer?” Xoston asks.
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Vetnik.
“Hm. Better she didn’t accept the badge of Raven’s Claw if she is. I am sorry to leave you in this terrible state but Boromis and I must be off with G’aldem to fulfill our contract. We can have shares delivered to a place of your choosing.” Xoston gives Vetnik a hearty and (hopefully) comforting handshake. He turns to bid the rest of the party goodbye and sees them in a less than hospitable state. He simply nods at them, giving them silent thanks. “Your names will be mentioned to the nobles of the region. Do we mention your companions name in light of this delicate matter?”
“Withhold it for now,” Grum commands.
“Vetnik?”
“Is she going to get her share?” Vetnik asks, to which Xoston nods his head.
“Then withhold her name.”

Outside, Moira is sad. Vetnik urges them to go talk to Zemilay and Xanti Lyks, “maybe she can scry herself?”
“I’m going to consult a higher power. We will meet in the morning, to attend Lyssa’s arraignment.” Moira kisses him goodbye and with a heavy heart parts ways. Thom waits at the jail overnight to keep tabs on Lyssa’s detainment

At the Manor, Vetnik and Trisoll discuss the issue at hand.
“I hope it’s not what they said it was.”
“Me too.”
“My mom should be able to help us out if my dad can’t.”
“Nice new armor btw.”
“Thanks.”

They come home to find only Lyks, Xanti is out. Burbis greets them buzzing in his own annoying way. Trisoll calms him down.
“Remember when we used to practice listening, Burbis?” Tri
Trisoll occupies Burbis while Vetnik pushes ahead to see Zemilay in his study. Inside, he’s enjoying a drink with George. George stands and formally greets.
“It’s ok. Burbis let us in.”
“Bless you for taking his attention away from us!”
“Not to be rude, George, I am here on serious matter.”
“Well, then I will excuse myself.”
“No need, I appreciate your candor, George.” Ze “What’s going on? It’s rare of you to come to me like this.”
Vetnik explains the abridged version of the charges brought against Lyssa.
“She shouldn’t be too long, Master Talthraudii.” Geo
“Who was murdered?” Ze
“Lord Seron of House Cerzan. It all matches up with a timeline.”
Zemilay and Vetnik wait for Xanti for an hour and sees the look on the men’s faces. “What troubles you, my love?”
Vetnik and Zem informs her. “What can I do to help?”
“See what you can scry.”
Xanti goes off to her private scrying chamber in the nude and gleans quite a level of detail: time frame, place of murder, the murder itself. She struggles getting the time frame but sees the murder in vivid detail. She relays the detail to Zemilay and Vetnik. The pair of men go to the jail in the wee hours of the morning.

Grum waits with Thom and imagines what it’s like to cut loose like Lyssa. Thom, Grum, Grunt do both surveillance and protection.

Lyssa sits in solitary, mulling over her actions.

Zemilay is allowed audience. Vetnik + 3 guards. Lyssa hears the tap of Zem’s staff and Vetnik. Lyssa is quiet, only telling Lyks “I thought I was doing good.”

As the pair of men leave, Lyssa skids her stolen key across the floor. Vetnik picks it up and the pair head to Vortis’. First attempt to knock, no answer. Second attempt is answered by an agitated Vortis. “Oh, Vetnik! Why am I being awakened?” Vetnik hands him a cask of wine.
“Last year’s vintage was better, but thank you.”
“I’ll take that into consideration.”
“What does this key do?”
“How did you get this key? Did Lyssa manage to get this off a city guard? They need better training. It’s a door key, not a cuff key. There are several—why am I telling you this?”
Vortis asks Vetnik to leave the key, no questions asked. Vetnik denies his requests and says he’s going to give it to Moira. Vetnik bows and leaves for the church of Cortox. He leaves to have a drink at the Friendly Strangers. Though the cabaret is done, the bar is still open with Tic Toc working the room. He tells stories of the Heroes of Greyhawk, including Isygrad. He’s sullen, hearing tales of their heroism contrasted with the flaws of his own groups.

In the morning, the party meets at the court to see Lyssa’s arraignment. All of the party attend. Moira seeks out Vetnik for his strength and together they sit towards the front. Grunt sits on his own, unnoticed, while Trisoll sits in the back. The twins sit together. All spot throughout the crowd Cerzan family members, aristocrats. Violetta is in attendance as well, opposite the aisle from Moira. Zemilay stands in the back with Trisoll.

The magistrate enters and announces the case. The Cerzans puff up at the mention of themselves. Eldon testifies and recounts his encounter with Lyssa and Blackrazor. A priest of St. Cuthbert (Garven Bortheis) testifies against Lyssa after scrying.

Thom takes the stand as Lyssa’s counsel. “Is that all you have?” He pleads that her magic is Wild in nature, her intention might not have been to kill him! The crowd is not still swayed completely – though such a compelling and unique argument goes documented nonetheless!

The Cerzans take the stand next. Corbin, the new head of the family is too busy. The 2nd son, Stanak, gives a aristocratic yet charismatic speech about the loss of his father. “When I have wretched the estate from my brother’s control, I will do all in my power to ruin your house, witch!” Brianna takes one look at Lyssa and spits at her feet. Grigor steps up and addresses Stanak and argues his ability to better handle the estate. Catrin takes the stand and she looks at Lyssa and says “My father was everything to me! I hate you, I hate you for what you have done!” Lucien comes to Lyssa, dejected and sighing. “Why did you have to kill my father? I would have worked to change it had you only come to me.” Eldon cannot attend tending to Bayerton. He sends a letter detailing her aggression but also gives her props for retrieving wave. “Though she is possessed by a temper most dangerous, she did come through on her promise.” The youngest daughter, Loraleen, carrying a small toddler, unable to look at Lyssa. “My father… every feast day he would bring me treats from Jelee Rolls. We would spend every Sunday together… I don’t know how I’m going to get through.”
“Why did you kill my granddaddy?!” the toddler whines.

“Objection!” Thom cries out. “This isn’t a court case, this is a sentencing! Nothing has been prove yet!”

“Who is here to speak on the behalf of the accused?” magistrate asks. Moira and Grum stand up at the same time. Trisoll steps forward from the back wall. Grum slides down, seeing the crowd’s reaction to Moira.

“I have known Lyssa of Bayerton for many months. I have seen a woman possessed of an anger and a leaning towards evil. It disturbed me but I reached out to her. I have seen her turn from that path.”

Moira’s charisma shifts the morale only slightly, neutralizing the crowd.

Violetta steps up. “I will speak on Lyssa of Bayerton’s behalf, for I am her mother.” She speaks of her neglected childhood and dour economic conditions. “A person of purity and goodness could never come from that. She has shown true growth. Cortox knows she has a great destiny ahead of you,” she says sobbing. She turns to Lyssa, emotionally shattered and begins to move towards her before being ushered away. “I beg you to forgive me!” she pleads. “I beg you!”

Trisoll moves forward but thinks better of it, then sits down. As he does, Vetnik rises. “I am Vetnik Talthraudii, Grand Knight and Earl of Granrud. I am here to speak on behalf of Lyssa of Bayerton. I was personally very suspicious of her when I first met her. As a nobleman, I request a certain amount of respect from those in my company. I stand for honor and nobility, and the company I keep must carry out these qualities as well, and despite whatever setbacks we may have had in the beginning, she has shown herself worthy to fight alongside. I hope you take what I’ve said into consideration.”

Grum stands and introduces himself as an “adventurer and traveler.” He narrates the times she’s put herself in peril for good.

Zemilay urges Trisoll to speak up and as a result, he gives an incensed speech on her behalf. “You guys, she’s my friend! She’s good, you’ll see.”

Old man Zemilay approaches the stand and delivers a speech on his charge. He pleads that she was a victim of “circumstances beyond her control.” He calls upon Lucien to also reconsider the wages and fairness their family deal out. “I have done much for this city.” The crowd reacts positively, knowing his deeds and the deeds of his company.

The magistrate takes recess to consider the testimony provided. Violetta comes to Lyssa to comfort her. “Everything will be alright, I swear!”

“Lyssa of Bayerton. I find you guilty. However, based upon the words of your companions and the words of Zemilay Lyks. I am willing to take your sentence down to life imprisonment.” The court erupts in a series of boos, cheers, and gasps.

Violetta offers herself up as token slave. Lyssa protests but Violetta willingly gives herself to the Cerzan family. Lyssa watches helplessly as the Cerzans cart her mother away, now a slave, while Moira urges Lyssa to come back to the Manor with them.

“Next time, there’s a spell called “Non-detect”. Try using that.” Thom whispers to Lyssa
“Next time, I won’t be so sloppy.” Lyssa replies through gritted teeth as she watches the Cerzan carts roll away back to Greyhawk Heights.

Lyks transforms into a small bird and trails the Cerzan caravan. He finds out she is being sent to work at the lumber operation in Dafflewood in the Velver Dyver River. Lyks flies back to Greyhawk and broadcasts Violetta’s whereabouts to Lyssa.

To vent steam, Grum suggests the party go find the man who defiled his mother’s street sign. Moira rejects the notion of revenge, which angers Grum. Vetnik convinces her to come along and safeguard from any serious harm, relying more on a prank than true vengeance. Grunt continues to joke about removing the bounty hunter’s hands.

Thom polymorphs and sneaks up to Carrin the Stalker’s home as a snake. He leads the party, scouting ahead. He is in the process of making ransom notes and together, the twins hatch a plan: Thom will slither in while Grum casts ventriloquism, giving the serpent a menacing voice. “I know what you did” he hisses. Carrin freaks out as Thom slithers through his legs then transforms into a Naga. Carrin bolts to the door, but Vetnik presses his weight against the door to keep it barred. “The sign!”
“What… what sign?!”
“The sign in Newhope. Clean it!”
“Ok, ok!”
Thom shapeshifts into a fly and buzzes out a nearby window. Grum chuckles watching the old bounty hunter whimpering. The twins chuckle as the bounty hunter scrambles to get cleaning supplies. Humiliated, the party saunter back to Pimpleton Manor.

Back at the manor, Lyssa meets Zemilay to discuss the whereabouts of Violetta. George escorts her to the study. Lyssa enters to find maps laying out on the table. He goes right into it and gives her coordinates how far away her mother will be after tonight. Zemilay tells Lyssa she’s set to leave in the morning. In a huff, Lyssa tries to leave to go get her mother, but Zemilay pleads with her to stop and think rationally. She turns to him with burning red eyes and Zemilay quickly uses Mind Read on her and finds she only vengeance on the brain. In an effort to cap it, Zemilay casts Emotion over her. She’s overcome by his spell and she calms down, feeling strangle optimistic all of a sudden.

Moira is impressed with the way Grum cooled himself.
“Well, a lot of it is just pomp. I’d never do it.” Grum reveals.
“Well, you scared the mess out of him and that was good enough.” Vetnik congratulates.

Moira asks Zemilay about how they plan to save Violetta from slavery. Thom expresses concern that the Cerzans will know it was they that freed her. Moira suggests they use Lucien as an ally. Thom and Grum are adamant about freeing Violetta then breaking the family apart. Trisoll asks Grum to make arrangements for smuggling Violetta goods. He in turn contacts Marit to help with the smuggling, and she delegates it to her scouts.

Thom hears a rumor about Dagger Rock, a small mountain in the Bright Lands which serves as a lair for a Blue Dragon. Two weeks travel. He also gets wind of a town overrun by an orc army.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Detouring from the main road back to Greyhawk, the party takes the pair of surviving women back to their home villiage, a small hamlet called Pek. They find out the women are named Aulis Grainkeeper (skinny, missing leg) and Geria Plowshare (stout) but are not forthcoming about much else. Upon arriving in Pek, they see a village made up of impoverished farm folk living among the 10 or so huts. The villagers greet the party and are in awe of the mounted warriors. They quietly mourn the loss of a third woman and even more subtly rejoice over the return of the other girls. The village elder,Ligren Foxtrapper, thanks the party for bringing the girls back but as they are a poor people, they cannot offer more than the servitude of the former captives — as is the way of their people.

“We didn’t do this to gain slaves!” Lyssa disputes.

Foxtrapper tries to express to the party that giving them the women is their way of paying back whatever debt, despite the consequences. Aulis is obedient to the will of the elder, while Geria voices that she doesn’t want to leave. In turn, the villagers immediately begin to shun Geria. Fearing no other option, she agrees to go with the party. Moira and Thom hatch a plan to turn the Pekian’s customs and Moira urges the village to keep the girls as slaves, serving in their name to better Pek. The elder, however, doesn’t fall for their ruse and asks them to take the women back with them. While Lyssa isn’t shy about telling the elder of Pek off about his backwards, piggish token of gratitude, Thom and Moira agree to sponsor the women when they return to Greyhawk. Thom even assures to Lyssa that their positions in Greyhawk will be duly compensated, though it does little to cool Lyssa’s heated disposition. Before leaving, Vetnik wrangles a horse for the women to share and together, they leave Pek for the road back to Greyhawk.

Near the city limits, Moira reveals her doubts about the church to Vetnik, but that she remains loyal to Cortox. She also reveals a fear of excommunication and being stripped of her paladinship. On the way back, they see another group of 30 rats that scurry off the road when they pass on horseback. At the city gates, the party checks in and prepares to escort Thom to see Bardmaster Lactile Furlo. Thom gets word that bardschool is being held at the Salty Sea Dog Inn. The party follows Thom, all except for Lyssa, who dips off to go to her apartment (still visibly withdrawn and frustrated by the encounter in Pek.)

At the Salty Sea Dog, the clientele is as grizzled as the inn itself: dark, dingy, belligerent dock workers and barflies mingle with “catfish” (unattractive, dock whores). One brazen patron is even brave/foolish enough to pick a fight with Grunt, who in turn responds with a head butt, knocking the unsuspecting patron out in a single blow. Thom heads to the backroom to see a class of 10. The soloist’s song is described as “perfectly adequate” by Bardmaster Furlo.

Lactile greets the trio of bards (Thom, Chan, and Pelar) and is told that Thom is the victor of his quest. Inspecting the Gourd of Travel, Lactile congratulates Thom openly, calling him “My. Master. Student”. While most of the other students react with disdain and disappointment, a few are brave enough to openly congratulate Thom. Over a glass of wine in the house, Thom recounts the details of their expedition to Lactile, who uses whatever opportunity he can during the discussion to dismiss the other students’ talents.

Back at her apartment, Lyssa consults the Eye of Modius in a heated state. The Eye opens up to reveal details about the Cerzan patriarch, Lord Soren. She gets exceeding details of his current health and opulently decorated manor in Greyhawk Heights. In a fit of impulse, she teleports instantly into his bedroom (a first manifestation of this particular spell power!) There, she quietly looks over his finery, waiting and brewing.

Back at the Salty Sea Dog, Lactile continues to praise Thom, berating his students to be just as good. Having all the wine and praise he can take, Thom leads the others out of the Salty Sea Dog Inn. As they pass Elsa’s House of Comfort, Vetnik hears a familiar voice call out to him: “Well, well, barbarian! What’s this? No wonder I haven’t seen you.” It is the scantily armored warrioress, Aris, and she approaches the party, laying into Vetnik and his choice of virtuous companion.
“I am warriorborn, woman!” Moira says, stepping to the bawdy warrior.
“You’re both going to calm yourselves, you’re both embarrassing me,” Vetnik barks at the feuding women (much to the amusement of the others in the party.) Moira concedes and stands down, and though Aris is still heated, she too backs off. After Aris stomps away, the party agrees to meet later at Pimpleton Manor. Moira takes the Pek women to the Church of Cortox to see what help she can get them, despite having avoided her duties for quite some time. Grunt heads back to his apartment while Trisoll and the Black brothers follow Vetnik back to the Manor.

Later in the evening, Soren Cerzan returns to his bedroom to find Lyssa lightly pilfering through the surface objects adorning his dresser. Before he can call down for help, Lyssa charms him and commands him to sit and listen to her. She reveals she is one of many families from Bayerton who were workers on his lands and confronts him about the lavish lifestyle he and his family lead while the villagers of Bayerton toil for little pay and live in squalor.
“They have earned their right to exist,” the remorseless lord tells Lyssa. Driven by blinding rage, Lyssa blankets the room in a powerful cloudkill spell, instantly killing the lord. In a panic, she teleports back to her home to sleeplessly mull over her reckless actions.

On the way to his home, a gnome stops Grunt and begs him for coin. Grunt says “no”, to which the gnome offers a bag of beans. Grunt is unwavering and yells at the gnome to get lost! The gnome flees to bother another villager, who falls for his con.

At the Manor, Vetnik receives a notice that his new suit of armor will be ready at dawn. Thom gets a letter from Cirilli Finla, the young girl who helped in freeing Orlane from the stranglehold of the Naga, Explictica Defilus. She writes to say hello and thank him again for freeing her. She also tells Thom the peculiar way she’s been revered in her hometown. Orlanians have taken to asking her to touch them to bless and heal them, even going so far as to ask for locks of her hair (which Cirlli has seemingly obliged, but jokes that “I’m beginning to look like a boy”.) Later in the evening, Trisoll struggles to wake himself from an intensely horrific nightmare! Vetnik rushes in hearing his friend’s panicked cries and wakes him. Vetnik gets Trisoll water while he collects himself. He later explains to Vetnik the vision he saw: a child and a wizard, followed by the death of the wizard and a murderous creature chasing after the child. Then he realizes there were other children, and wonders if he should consult his mother.

In the morning, Vetnik returns to Pimpleton Manor in a finely crafted suit of grey iron armor. Grum chortles and fawns over him mockingly. “Oh, lookit you!” Moira genuinely compliments him and asks why he acquired it. “Why grey?”
“I’ll tell you later,” he says with a wink .“It’s a tradition actually. Now that I am no longer a knight bachelor, I no longer need to wear black. As a knight, I am now able to don the grey armor of my people. I hope some day to be able to don the white armor though.”
Moira smiles, though she has a feeling that the white armor would mean Vetnik returning to icy Granrud.

During breakfast, Moira tells the party that the church has charged her to find the secret Cortoxian priest from the Games, but tells them she refused the task. She also tells the Black brothers that someone has defaced their mother’s street sign with the word TRAITOR. “They’ll wipe it clean with their bloody stumps!” Grum swears. Later, a visitor arrives for them: Xoston Wilcryn and his dwarven associate from Blackmoor, Boromis Runforge. The gnome reveals that his associate is looking for an assassin from Horndurn named G’aldem M’lek, who slew their friend and fellow Raven’s Claw, Galather Eldrin. The Black brothers and Grunt head to the Thieves’ Guild to find info on the assassin while Vetnik and Moira agree to put their ears to the ground at local Inns, beginning with the Wretched Eye. Trisoll forgoes doing recon and chooses to spend some time with his mother for reasons known only to him and Vetnik.

Still holed up in her apartment, Lyssa consults her Eye and sees a vision of the City Guard coming at night to confront her at her home. Unsure of what to do, she continues researching through the different texts in her home in hopes of finding magic to safeguard herself.

Moira and Vetnik stand out like sore thumbs at the Inn of the Wretched Eye. Moira asks of the patrons “Which one of you scums are willing to give up some information for some money?” The patrons look the naïve paladin up and down, but before they can “escort” her out, Vetnik cools the scene by buying a table of men some drinks. Moira quickly strong-arms them into revealing their knowledge of the Horndurnian asssassin. They reveal they’ve only briefly seen M’lek and have heard rumors of him heading to the port town of Dyvers. The pair of knights pay the men with coin and drink, which raises a few of the patrons’ eyebrows. In return, the men quietly ask the knights to escort them to the front door.
“We’ll walk you home if you like?” Moira says without a hint of sarcasm.
“Hahaha… no!” One of the men responds. The knights do as asked and watch as the small group of men break off from each other and flee.

As Lyssa quietly researches, a note slips under her door. It is notice from Ebeviria, letting her know that Glarius has left with the Eye of Null and is said to be traveling to the Dry Steppes beyond the Crystalmist Mountains. She references the various maps in her apartment and finds out just how far he’s planning on going.

Grum gets word of who vandalized his mother’s street post. It appears to be a former business owner, a bounty hunter named Carrin Stalker, who once operated out of what was once known as Blood Alley, but was bounced out due to his mother’s gentrification of the area. The others gather their information together and get ready to head to Dyvers. The company votes to head there on horseback for four days travel, with Xoston and Boromis accompanying them. Trisoll goes to pick up Lyssa and finds her more eager to travel than usual, but is commanded by her not to pry.

The ride is uneventful for the first half of travel, but on the 3rd day they come across a procession of 11 shambling figures in red robes, silent and shoeless with cracked and bloodied feet. Trisoll refuses to speak with them this time as they been rather intimidating the last time he attempted to strike up conversation with them. The party continues onwards, and the next day they arrive at Dyvers, which could best be described as a city-sized Salty Sea Dog Inn. Once finished with registration, Boromis departs and searches for info alone, agreeing to meet at the Dragon’s Eye Tavern in four hours’ time. They stake another tavern out to listen in on villagers. Thom casts comprehend languages upon himself to listen in on foreigners. The rest of the party go to a local inn called Jorton’s Mist to set up. Moira and Vetnik hang back while the others bar hop. Alone, Moira expresses deeper concern for the former priests of Celestian who have such violent reactions towards the new reign of Cortox. She also opens up about her brother for the first time to Vetnik and her growing desire to find him. Vetnik suggests that an alternative way of finding him using an object of his. Moira seems eager to pursue that idea, but is timid to ask Lyssa to help (“I fear she’s cross with me.”) Vetnik says he understands that Lyssa thinks he’s taking Moira away from her, but Moira wishes that she would try to understand their new relationship and be open for discussion about it.

At the Green Door Tavern, the party stakes out for info. Humans, half orcs, and dwarves drink together. Thom and Grum hear whispers but Grunt can’t make them out. Thom hears nothing of value but Grum hears word of a foreigner in strange robes getting supplies. With the info, they head to another bar called The Wyvern, which is a little more refined than the last bar. Only Thom can discern more info. He hears that the character has been hanging out in Hook Rows.

The party meets back at Dragon’s Eye as planned and Boromis tells the party that the assassin is said to be lurking in a specific block in the Hook Rows area. Xoston suggests to make the knights of the party invisible. Vetnik agrees to hold Moira’s hand while Trisoll figures out how to silence their metal footsteps. Xoston hangs back with Trisoll and Lyssa while Thom goes invisible as well. Grum and Grunt scout ahead, hiding in shadows, while Boromis uses a grappling hook (a Blackmoorian invention) to scale the rooftops.

On the 4th hour of patrol, the party hears a small explosion on the rooftops. Boromis yells down that he’s fired a shot at him. Thom uses his Ring of Flying to take to the air, calling down the assassin’s coordinates, and the party chases after him. Lyssa dimension doors and cuts G’aldem off. Thom attempts to cast a charm on him but it fails. As G’aldem begins to scale the wall of a nearby building up to the roof, Lyssa attempts to suspend him with a levitate spell but he proves too quick and evades it. Thom watches and continues to call out coordinates as G’aldem bolts from rooftop to rooftop with catlike agility. Grum jumps up to climb walls but can’t get his footing. Grunt tries to scale the walls too but he slides down. The thieves take notice of the sappy, cheap wooden siding on the building and together they scurry to find a better way up. Trisoll reaches out to the local birds and contacts a sparrow to pursue the assassin. Now out of the veil of invisibility and hovering in the air, Thom draws his bow to fire a pair of arrows. The first of the arrows miss by a mile, but the second pierces the escaping assassin through his right leg, exploding through his knee and felling him to the ground of the roof. Lyssa dimension doors up to his body and disarms G’aldem. He says nothing as she finds and takes a curved blade and 3 smoke pellets, which she gives to Thom — who in turn gives them to Grum.
“Should’ve just gave in to my charm,” Thom jokes.
Lyssa attempts to place him under a suggestion spell but he is resistant to it. Xoston summons a horde of Shadow Monsters to menace him into talking but even those do little to faze him. Boromis holds the assassin’s own blade at his throat and threatens to open his neck up with it if he doesn’t speak. Moira steps in toe calm the frustrated dwarf while Vetnik tears G’aldem’s cowl off and reveals a mouth sewn shut. Vetnik cuts G’aldem’s mouth open with his longsword. As Moira lays hands on the assassin to heal him, Vetnik opens his mouth to reveal neither teeth nor tongue. Vetnik blows a bag of dust and puts G’aldem to sleep.

The party restrains the sleeping assassin and Vetnik puts him on the back of his horse to take with them back to Greyhawk. The first couple days back are uneventful. Vetnik keeps the silent assassin comatose with daily doses of dust on their journey back home. On the third day back to Greyhawk, a huge shadow covers the ground. They look up and see an enormous bird fly over: the legendary giant Roc. Though in awe, they keep the ride moving as to not get the bird’s attention. Thom sketches it in his journal of beastly encounters. The 4th day, the party passes a trade caravan as they pass through the city gates.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

The party reconvenes at Pimpleton Manor after defending Greyhawk from the ambush of giants. Back at the manor, Vetnik reveals that his desire to go home is only stipulated by whether or not his father deems him worthy to return. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he expresses a distance he’s felt from the group (aside from Trisoll), that they’ve merely been together as adventurers and not as friends.

Two weeks go by and the party individually sets out to begin production on many newly laid plans. Many of them finally receive the plots of land and materials as promised by the noblility of Greyhawk to begin constructing their own strongholds and sancturaries. Even Lyssa is signed over as the legal owner of the ruins of Castle Greyhawk in a proceeding that, had it not been for the influence of the Barton Woodley would’ve been a lengthy process.

While Thom staffs a construction crew for his stronghold-to-be, he continues his forging. He forges a katana blade over 2 weeks, a Damascus blade of silver and steel that is as balanced as it is sharp. He also does research at public library, cross-referencing the monsters they’ve encountered with lore and public record for increased awareness. He also sends out his new acolyte, Melina, to investigate and bring back 3 true things about town a day. He also attends a late class with Bardmaster Lactile Furlo, attended by only himself, his friend Chan, and a third student. Furlo sets upon them a quest for a fabled item to be found in the arid Bright Lands that will test their medal as not only Bards but as adventurers. Thom extends the courtesy to accompany him, but only Chan takes him up on the offer. The third, a stranger, rejects his offer and sets out on her own. Furlo shares with each of them the coordinates of the item but little else beyond that.

On the opposite side of town in the neighboring marshes, Grum builds out a quaint B&B complete with a network of hidden passages as well as an underground fortress underneath. Production hits a block over the two weeks when trying to excavate the earth for his dungeon. He also keeps tabs on the ladies of the Red Nails for the new head of the Thieves Guild, Thurman Dietrich. He discovers that while many of the Red Nails have sided with the new order, some have not taken to the power shift. He sends word to Marit Loyalar (the assassin from the Red Nails who turned against Nystra Greythrush) that two of companions are plotting against her: the scout Winnie and the founder of the Red Nails, Thery Megaria.

Still feeling despondent about being taken from his homeland, Grunt makes half-hearted attempts at creating a new place for himself in Greyhawk. He buys a house with his gold but spends his time in it decorating it with booby traps and trash. At night, he creeps the city looking for things to steal. He trolls Greyhawk Heights, scaling the city from above and leaping from rooftop to rooftop, picking his marks according to their wealth and their benevolence (or lack thereof). On one particular evening, he attempts to loot the home of a wealthy and cruel nobleman in Greyhawk but ends up spending more gold on the caper than he’s able to walk away with.

Lyssa spends time spying on the Cerzan family, and finds out that the six of the eight brothers are scattered all over Greyhawk. House Cerzan is occupied by its old and reclusive Lord, as well as servants and guards, and he is visited regularly by Lord Cerzan’s sons and grandchild. In a moment of moral dilemma, she visits the Church of Cortox to speak with her mother, Violetta. There the two embrace as never they have before, and Lyssa asks for her mother’s counsel on dealing with evil in their own land. Violetta says that her daughter must do as she has done for months, and vanquish evil. Unbeknownst to Violetta, Lyssa’s fractured mind takes this as a blessing of sorts to deal out punishment to the Cerzan family. She also continues her studies with Ebeviria and spends her downtime researching the visions she had of Castle Greyhawk with the lore written about the fabled place. Ebeviria reveals that she has agents attending to watch the destruction the Eye of Null, which Glarius is attending himself.

Moira enlists parishioners of the church of Cortox to help in building her sanctuary in Cortox’s honor. Trisoll takes a different path however. As his patron god values individuality, he is resolved to build his sanctuary without the help of other humans. With a deep connection to nature, he employs the help of local wildlife to help where possible.

Vetnik sends a letter off to Granrud, asking for his father’s blessing to return. As he waits, Moira finally confesses her adoration for him. She cites seeing him with Aris as a source of her hesitation. Vetnik reveals though that it may be too late for them as he has already requested to return to his kingdom. Vetnik also reveals his longstanding feelings for the paladin with a gentleman’s kiss.

At the end of two weeks, Vetnik’s correspondence is returned with a denial from his father. “The title of your order is of little consequence to me, you show you are ready when you have done great deeds. Not with great titles.” His denial is sent with a care package of dusts and native treats prepared by his mother. Though disappointed, having Moira at his side comforts him. The party meets at Pimpleton Manor for their weekly dinner and finds both Vetnik and Moira together as an open couple. While the others react in a celebratory fashion, Lyssa is unable to process it and excuses herself. In a display of rare sentimentality, Zemilay Lyks offers his help in constructing his son’s sanctuary. Lyks also offers to help Grum magically by moving and shaping earth to help create the thief’s dungeon. When confronted by Lyks, Lyssa is mum on all matters and remains closed off, both where it concerns Moira and Vetnik’s blossoming relationship as well as what she’s been up to for the past two weeks since the attack.

Thom reveals he has been charged with a quest by his Bardmaster to find an enchanted item in the arid Bright Lands — a challenge set forth to him and two other students. After being informed that companions are permitted to help get the bards there, Trisoll immediately jumps at the chance to go on the adventure. Still soured from her last pilgrimage to convert heathens, Moira forgoes her duty to the church to tag along with the others. As a side, Lyssa opens up to the party and reveals that the Eye of Null is slated for destruction and that Glarius will be in attendance, which engenders Lyks with little optimism.

Fearing a third student is already on the way to the Bright Lands, Thom organizes the party together to ride the next morning. Chan is a man of his word and tags along with Thom and the others. The ride is uneventful at first until reaching the Neen River. Thom begins discussion by figuring out he and Lyssa would be able to distribute flight and levitation spells amongst the party and their horses. As he works to figure the equation out, Lyssa exhibits a new ability: using a piece of hemp and a shard of bark from a nearby tree, she uses her magic to create the components into a wooden bridge. Movement is slow once entering the Mist Marshes as they trudge through wet and foggy peatlands. On the second day in the Mist Marshes, Grunt and Thom spy a group of thirteen strange, mantislike creatures the size of men, scouting the swamp with armed with spears. From his studies in the great library of Greyhawk, he informs the others that they are in fact Thri-Kreen. Their alien jaws click and whistle to each other, echoing strange insectoid sounds through the marsh. Thom casts a comprehend languages spell on himself and discerns that they aren’t hostile. The party sheaths their weapons and continues onwards past the Thri-Kreen. “I smell elf! Sweet elf meat!” One of the Thri-Kreen clicks to another. Grum and Thom quicken their pace and continue to lead the rest of the party further away from the patrol. As sun sets over the Mist Marsh, Thom uses Leomund’s Tiny Hut to create a safe camp area for he and the others until sunrise. At dawn the party sets out to ride again, but Vetnik feels a fever begin to worm its way into his system. Throughout the morning, Vetnik feels progressively worse, culminating in a show of clammy skin, pallid complexion and profuse vomiting. “Stop!” Moira commands the party. Moira sees him in pain and while he tries to put on a tough front, she lays her hands upon him, healing him of his mysterious ailment. She wipes a bit of vomit from his beard and smiles before returning to her mount.

The party makes it out of the Mist Marsh and continues across the plains in the Duchy of Urnst. Vetnik takes the lead with the Black brothers and spurs the horses to a quicker pace. As they ride closer towards the deserts of the Bright Lands, the grass of the plains thin and dry. In a patch of open land, they spy the corpse of a man whose body has been picked at by a family of 18 rats, his flesh buzzing with flies. After a couple more days they finally make it to the northern reaches of the Bright Lands, a dry and flat desert land. The heat of the desert lands especially hinders Moira and Vetnik, both of whom sweat heavily in the bulky armor. Vetnik does his best to think of his own frozen wasteland in an effort to mentally cool himself down. On the afternoon of the second day the party sees the first signs of possible life in the desert: a small village made up of five small dirt yurts. “Should we see if they have water?” Grum asks the others.
“If we need water, I can make some. We should keep moving,” Trisoll replies, seeing no signs of villagers occupying the huts.

On the third and final day, Grum comes upon a series of tracks leading towards the entrance of a cave. They hop off their horses and Grum reveals that the tracks probably belong to a female. They tether their horses and head inside, following the tracks. Inside, there are a series of stone steps that come to two halls, with footsteps taking down the right path. They take the opposite path and head through the corridor that ends after several yards at a door. Grum finds the door trapped but deftly removes it: a mechanism that was set to trigger a guillotine-like blade to cut into the first to enter. Thom listens for noise, and after hearing nothing, they pass through the unlocked door and a circular room made of smooth sandstone decorated with only three large brass rings attached to the wall. Thom inspects them closer and finds small brass plates behind each of the rungs. Chan approaches and spots a very small musical register barely carved into the rung. Thom and Chan look at all three of the rings and find that the trio together creates some kind of song. “Well, this is a challenge,” Thom begins to Chan. He flips a coin and both bards call their sides; the coin falls in Thom’s favor. Thom takes his drums out and plays a beat similar to the structure laid out on the rung. Nothing happens. Chan takes the rung in the middle, looks at it, and instead of using his drum, he begins to hammer a beat out using the rung and its backing plate. Suddenly, a loud mechanical click echoes through the chamber.
“Good work,” Thom compliments, “finish it off!” Chan eagerly moves to the first rung and hammers out the beat and a second click sounds. Chan rushes to the third and finishes the song on the brass rung. A third click sounds followed by the slow sound of earth scraping against earth. The wall swivels open to reveal another corridor!

Thom ushers Grum and Grunt to scout ahead. They come upon another fork, with each path capped by a closed door. Thom checks the left door for noise first and hears the faint sound of metal clanging together. After finding no traps, Grum unlocks the door and together they enter. Inside they see a chandelier of long brass hollow tubes hanging from the ceiling, bouncing off each other in a cacophony of noise. They also notice the perimeter of the walls are lined with vents blowing out warm air which seems to keep the tubes in chaotic motion. Unsure of what to make of it, the Black brothers head to the right door. There, Thom hears the strange sound of wood against metal. Grum checks for traps and finds a panel with keys barring the lock. His fingers prove too nimble for the panel and Grum pulls it out, revealing a trap mechanism, which he pockets for later use. They open the door and find in the middle of the room a pipe organ and a wooden wheel operating an intricate network of gears that pushed foot pedals and keys, creating constant dissonant sound. Thom notices the gears pushing the pedals can be manipulated for different melodic effect. Thom extends Chan the courtesy to try solving the puzzle first since he solved the first. Chan inspects the intricate gears for a moment and begins to move gears into position. At first, his selections make for a harmonious melody. His third move pushes the song out of tune, which causes the door to slam shut and the already humid room to heat up. Vetnik and Moira rush to the door as Lyssa casts a knock spell upon it while Grum and Thom gather around Chan to return to the gears back to their initial places. Vetnik pushes the door open just as Thom puts the final gear back in its place, causing the room to instantly cool down. “It’s your turn,” Chan says to Thom as he tries to calm himself. Thom follows Chan’s first couple of moves and puts the gears and pedals in their desired position. Acknowledging Chan’s misstep, Thom selects a different pedal and continues the song. He successfully finishes the song, which causes a small secret panel to open up into another corridor.

Thom and Grum duck into the small corridor first to check the door. Behind it, Thom hears a wheezing sound, a gasping creature. Grum also finds a trap on the door – a tuning fork – and behind the door, the see the bloodied body of a woman laying and gasping for life. Thom rushes in and discovers it’s the third student from his class. “Trisoll!” Thom calls out. The cleric rushes in without hesitation and embraces her, restoring a bit of life to her.
“What happened to you?” Thom asks as Trisoll releases her from his healing hug.
“Stones… they crushed me. This… this is the wrong path,” she chokes. “There is only death here.”
“Do you feel any better?” Trisoll asks.
“Yes, thank you. I… I can feel my body… my strength slowly returning. Please, if you have any rations, I must leave!” she pleads.
Thom hands her a sack of his own rations before continuing to console her. “We have a small camp set up outside of the entrance to the cave. Take my water, go there and wait for us.”
“Thank you! My name is Pelar, I will wait for your return!” she says graciously as he and Trisoll help her to her feet. She quickly limps out of the corridor and back to the front of the cave.

The party continues down the corridor, stepping over blood-soaked sand and making their way to another closed door. As Thom approaches, he can hear the faint sound of three drums, banging out an ancient beat. Grum jumps in to unlock the door, but for some unknown reason, the lock doesn’t seem to give despite his best attempts. Grum takes a step back to take a look at the door with his gem of seeing and finds the door sealed with a third, unseen mechanism. Upon hearing this, Thom takes the lead and rushes back to the room of chimes. Chan quickly runs after him, followed by the others. They make their way back to the room, where the vents continue to blow the pipes together. Thom quickly surveys the vents and finds that each of the vents are dug out at particular angles despite the common holes they share. “It is another song,” Chan remarks, looking up at the pipes from beneath them. Thom moves closer and the two see that the track the pipes are suspended from is indeed like that of sheet music, with each cluster of pipes forming notes. Chan moves to one of the vents and closes it off with his hand, which causes one of the pipes to swing less chaotically.
“It’s like a woodwind,” Thom notices, counting the holes on the wall. Thom closes another vent shut and notices that the tone of the chimes changes. The party watches as the pair of bards race about the room, racing the figure out the secret melody. While they begin strong together, Chan’s nerves get the best of him. Thom takes it upon himself to begin stuffing rags and refuse into vents until finding the right notes. Once closed off, the chimes swing together to create an echoing harmony. “Let’s go see what’s behind that door,” Thom says to Chan before rushing back to the last locked room.

Upon entering the corridor, Thom finds the door slightly ajar and the beat of three drummers booming throughout. He enters and finds waiting for him three identical drummers each playing a separate but unified beat of ancient origin. He notices their bodies seem to billow and move when hitting the drums, as if their arms were made of air itself. All three speak in unison: “One of us is real, the others are false. Play the rhythm of the one who is true and the prize will be yours.” Thom takes a moment to listen to each of the beats. At first, it seems as if they’re playing in perfect harmony, but after taking a few more moments to listen intently, he notices something. When striking the drum, the center drummer’s body remains solid and doesn’t vibrate the way the other two do. Thom slowly pulls out his drums, stares the center drummer down, and begins to hammer out the beat right along with him. After a few measures, the pair of drummers flanking the center hit their final beat in unison and then disappear into pillars of swirling air! The center drummer bangs his last beat and causes his drum to disappear in a puff of vapor. As he approaches Thom, the party watches the drummer’s legs turn into a vortex of cloudy vapor. He bows to honor Thom and extends his hand outwards. Where the left drummer stood, a stone stand appears in its place, with a smooth, dried gourd resting atop it. Thom bows respectfully and as he rises, the drummer disappears in a similar pillar of air as the other drummers had before. Thom moves to the stone stand. He lifts up the gourd and hears the rattle of seeds inside. Recalling tales passed down from bard to bard, he realizes that this is no ordinary gourd but a Gourd of Travel, a means by which a bard and his companion may travel to any known place, but is limited to the seeds within. Grum inspects the gourd with his brother with his Gem of Seeing and finds ten seeds inside. “Congratulations,” Chan says to Thom, patting him on the back. “You are the master student.”
“That’s right he is!” Grunt jeers.

The party follows the path out of the cave back to their camp. There they find Pelar with the horses, sipping on Thom’s waterskin. “Thank you again, Thom Drum. My hubris got the better of me. I was not ready for such a quest.”
“You will be. It’s all a part of the lifestyle.” Thom gifts Pelar a horse and together they head back home. They travel the desert and the Duchy with little event. Vetnik is especially grateful to be out of such arid conditions. The first day back in the Mist Marshes, the party encounters a group of three unkempt men sloughing through the marsh. The trio waves the party down with friendly (and gapped) smiles. “Ahoy travelers! Where ya off to?”
“Back home,” Thom answers politely. “Yourselves?”
“Oh us? Just heading back home to cook our catch. A fantastic feast, with enough left over for the entire season! Care to join us? Looks like you all haven’t had a warm-cooked meal in a while!”
Before Lyssa can express her doubts, Thom agrees to ride with them. They follow behind the trio deeper and deeper into the marsh. The stagnant scent of humid swamp air suddenly begins to merge with that of cooked flesh, but not of any animal they can immediately recall. Closing in on their camp, the party sees nine other men of similar dishevelment, all camped out around the roast. Grunt takes a whiff of the air and takes a closer look at what’s roasting on the long spit. “Looks they aren’t cooking pig.”
“What do you—“ Moira begins before seeing the corpse roasting on the men’s spit: the blackened body of a slender human. “YOU FIENDS!” Moira cries out as she unsheathes Starstrike. The trio turns to the party confused by their anger.
“What’s the matter, milady?” one of the men asks.
Moira jumps down off her horse and stabs at the men with her blade, felling one of them. Vetnik immediately rushes in on horseback and cuts a second man down, followed by delivering a crushing blow to another with his shield. The other men at the fire rush in to help their men just as Grunt draws out his trusty bow, “Hank”. He pulls the ethereal string back and in his fingers forms a pair of arrows, both of which are released with fantastic accuracy, killing two more of the cannibals. Lyssa gallops forward and unleashes a wave of fire from her burning hands, incinerating three more men. Fearing for their lives, the four remaining men do their best to flee into the fog-covered swamp. Before they can get too far, Thom gallops after them and cuts into another man with his katana. Grum stays back and fires a pair of arrows into the remaining men. One falls dead to the peat but the second arrow misses and disappears into the fog.
“Last ones yours,” Vetnik remarks to Trisoll. He turns and sees the cleric concentrating, eyes closed.
“Don’t worry, they won’t get away.”
After a few minutes, the party hears the sound of hooves racing towards the camp. In the distance they spy a centaur charging towards the men, drawing his bow and a pair of arrows. The first arrow shoots through the right knee of the first man, shattering it and causing him to fall and die from shock. The second gets an arrow in the hand and while caught off guard, Vetnik rushes up to deliver the killing cut.

With the cannibal party dispatched, Trisoll bows to the centaur before he disappears back into the foggy marsh. Grunt climbs down off his horse and just two clicks away from the camp, they find a pair of young women tied to a tree, their heads covered in old, soiled sacks. He notices that one of the women’s legs have been severed, served to the previous party as food no doubt. “Moira, Trisoll, we’ve got survivors!” he yells out before removing their hoods. They find their mouths bound and gagged, and though the initial sight of the hooded Grunt seems to terrify them, Moira’s gleaning presence calms them. “It’s alright, we are here to help!” Moira and Trisoll lay hands and hugs upon both women and do their best to restore life to them, though they’re unable to restore the one woman’s leg. The party takes a detour from the road back to Greyhawk to take the pair of women back to their village.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Unable to cope with the crippling agoraphobia, Thom gives Vetnik hammer. Vetnik beats back the magical fear and agrees to carry Whelm the rest of the way. The party makes it back to Alhaster w/o incident and agree to get accommodations at a local inn for the evening before sailing back to Greyhawk. Thom gives the eight extra men a bonus of 50gp from his own cut of the loot as a tip, and together they make their way to the local tavern.

“After all of this, I could use a good body to help keep my bed warm tonight,” Thom quips to which Vetnik chuckles to himself.

They come upon the tavern and find it a bustling scene. A few of the men take their gold and go in search of company to hire. Thom, enjoying the game too much to settle on a whore, chats up the men while scouting for a woman of his own. His eyes meet with a human woman with cherry red hair and a milky, spotless face. He excuses himself from the table and approaches her. Before he can reach her, she begins to slink his way smiling seductively, a slight snaggletooth revealed behind her lips (which only seems to pique Thom’s interest more.)

“Care for a drink?” he asks her smoothly. Without word or hesitation, she leans herself in close to him, presenting herself eyes and cleavage first. She uttered not a word and replied by grabbing at the crotch of his pants. Thom, appreciating her forwardness, brought her in closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and the pair left the rowdiness of the bar behind them for more intimate games upstairs.

Vetnik stayed downstairs to enjoy a pint of ale calmly among his companions. He watched the locals and his hirelings mingle and schmooze. Trisoll sat across from him, a cup of water in one hand with a stein of mead in the other. Moira and Lyssa sat beside him, sipping on cups of water.

“It’s too bad your friend isn’t here, eh Vetnik?” Moira said looking up from the table, breaking her stoic silence.
“Oh why is that? Do you enjoy her company as well?” Vetnik replied dryly, sipping on his ale. Moira seemed stunned and returned quietly to her water. Lyssa scoffed at his boorish reply and excused herself from the table. She began to wander into the back area near the gamblers. Just as she entered, her attention (as well as the others’) was diverted to a commotion from the back of the bar. Suddenly, they watched as a mountain of a man drug two quarreling men towards the exit of the bar, their heads under each of his arms. Before tossing them, he bashed the head of one man against the wooden casing and knocked the other’s head into the now-wounded head of the other man. The bouncer spat out the door and stomped back towards the bar, where those who watched cheered at the vicious sight and continued to drink.

Grum enjoyed a glass of wine to himself at the bar, keeping watch over his friends while also enjoying a bit of withdrawn introspective time to himself. He watches as one of his hirelings gets too rowdy and begins to bump into other patrons. Fearing for the man’s safety at the hands of the brutish bouncer, Grum quickly gets a cup of water and hands it to his traveling companion.
“I… I’m jus’ havin’ fun yea…” the drunk began to apologize to Grum.
“We all are, we all are,” Grum replied, putting the cup into his hireling’s hand and bringing it to his mouth to both get him to drink and to silence him. Vetnik stepped away from Moira and approached the men and agreed to escort the hireling to his room.

Lyssa looked over the gamblers, their pipe and cigarette smoke creating a cloud of smog that hovered in the room. She watched as they played dice games, shells, various card games, and chess. Lyssa zeroed in on a large, sweaty fat man with pipe dangling out of his mouth filled with rotted teeth. Beside him stood a contrast in size, a gaunt man in clothes too big for his size and too regal for his station (though stained and torn from wear.) She sauntered up to his table just as another man walked away from his table, seemingly in defeat.

“Taking bets?” she asked.
“Of course we are, lass. Three-Dragon Ante’s the game. You put your coin down, I’ll put mine down, and we all handle the outcome like big boys and girls, yeah?”
Lyssa slid into the empty seat across from the man. “I’m big girl.”
“And I’m a big man,” the sleazy gambler replied, grinning his horrid teeth. Lyssa bowed her head to conceal her eyes. She fumbled through her sack of gold and as she did, she closed her eyes and began to focus on the chaotic energies surrounding the fat man. Once she could feel the spell take hold of her victim, she lifted her head and set down 100gp. The pair played through their first hands, dealt by the fat man, and in turn she won 350gp from him.
“Heheheh, beginner’s luck. Eh, lass? You in for more?”
Lyssa reached into her sack of gold and put up her winnings plus another 100gp. The fat man took a deep puff of his pipe and looked over his cards. His smile broke as he surveyed them. Lyssa remained stone-faced as she revealed her hand. The fat man huffed as he tossed his useless hand against the table.
“I’m out! This table just got too rich for my blood, lass. At this rate, I’ll be losing my shirt!” the fat man said as he struggled to get himself up out of his seat.
“Boo hoo,” Lyssa jeered deadpan, scraping the coin over to her.
The fat man froze and stared her down. “Alright then, you wanna fucking go again you little trollop, we can go again!” The man yanked at his skinny companion’s blouse and whispered viciously into his ear. Lyssa tapped the toe of her boot against the pedestal of the table impatiently. Finally, the skinny man nervously emptied out his leather sack of all his gold., 1120gp! The skinny man nervously watched as his fat friend pushed in half of the pile and dealt both hands. Lyssa barely glanced at her cards before setting them down. The fat man’s face went ghost pale and struggled to show his hand. The skinny man scooped up the rest of his coin feverishly while the fat man yelled and called foul on Lyssa. His cries fell on deaf ears though and she picked up the rest of her winnings and headed back to the other half of the bar to rejoin the others. Passing Grum, who had watched the last hand take place from the doorway, he joked to her: “Shame, really. Had he been the least bit handsome, I might have made myself available to sooth his shattered ego.”

As the bar hours dwindled to closing, the party drifted off to their rooms one by one to sleep (all except Thom, who was kept awake by his insatiable companion, Melina.) In the morning, his companion watched as Thom intently as he studied his forms and sketched in his journal. She lay sprawled across his bed covered only in ringlets of plum-red hair and sunlight while he did his morning rituals, content to just be in his company. A sudden and hearty knock interrupted their quiet, peaceful morning.
“Thom?” Moira called out from the other side. The bard quickly took up his lady’s midnight blue cloak and draped it hurriedly over his nudity.
“Yes, Moira!” he said cracking the door open.
“I’ve secured a vessel for us back to Greyhawk, it will be ready within the hour.”
“Fantastic! Then I shall see you at the docks then,” he said, shooing her away. Thom quickly shut the door, threw off the robe and tossed it back to Melina before he began to gather his things.
“Do you have to leave so soon?” she mewed.
“I do, I must go to Greyhawk—“ he said, unable to cut himself off before revealing his destination.
“Greyhawk?” Melina asked, her sapphire eyes lighting up as she draped herself in the equally brilliant blue robe of hers. “Is that where you’re heading? I’ve always wanted to see Greyhawk!”
As Thom buckled the belt of his trousers, an idea crossed his mind. Thom fancied himself a perceptive judge of character, and her admiration for him seemed nothing but genuine. He reached into his sack and pulled out a gold coin. Looking her in the eyes, and flipped a coin her way. Thom watched as Melina reached out and snatched the coin out of the air, all without taking her eyes off of him. The pair smiled at each other before colliding for another, passionate kiss. “Let’s go to Greyhawk!”

Melina escorted Thom to the nearest general store to replenish supplies. After getting rations and equipment together, the pair made their way to the docks where they met with Moira and the others.
“Taking your pleasure with business?” Vetnik asked Thom very briskly.
“This is Melina,” Thom replied, addressing all in his party. “She is my charge.”
“New student, eh?” Trisoll nudged Thom in brotherly gest.
“Amongst other things,” Thom winked.
“Well done!” Trisoll laughed before Vetnik ushered him away. Melina looked to Thom, still optimistic and quite accustom to the playful ways of boys.
“If you’re all done gawking over Thom’s latest concubine,” Lyssa grumbled before boarding the ship.

Halfway through the ride back to Greyhawk across the Nyr Dyv, one of the hirelings spies a lightshow in the water.
“Look!” he called out, “below the water!”
The party – save for Lyssa, who’s lack of sea legs kept her nauseated and clinging to the center of the ship – rushed to see. The hireling pointed out a strange sight beneath the surface: a series of large globes of light that slowly trailed alongside the path of the boat.
“Let’s keep an eye on it, but nothing more.” Grum suggested. The party watched as the lights continued to float beneath the water until they dispersed and fluttered away behind the boat. After a few days of uneventful sailing, the party could spy the shores of Greyhawk in the distance. Their vision was obscured though by the sudden presence of a fog bank that hovered on the horizon.
“No, no, no!” Grum moaned as he whipped out his gem of seeing. The crystal revealed the truth about the nature of the fog. It was no bank of fog at all but rather a horde of buzzing insects humming above the surface of the water. “If any one has anything to get us past this, now’s the time to do it!”
Lyssa gathered up her nerve and with a rumbling stomach, she rushed to the bow of the ship. She opened her hand and summoned a torrent of wind and funnel straight through the throng of buzzing and stinging insects. The ship continued to sail towards the shores of Greyhawk but despite Lyssa’s best efforts, the swarm continued to advance!
Trisoll raced up to Lyssa’s side and stretched his hand out as she had hers. His eyes disappeared into a haze of faint white glow. “I suggest anyone who wishes not to get bitten come up the bow!”
The party quickly secured their horses beneath deck, gathered what weapons they could and crowded up behind both Trisoll and Lyssa. As the ship drifted towards the swarm, they watched as the insects zipped and buzzed at them with hungry fury, snipping with their alien jaws and stabbing with their barbed tails. The swarm fluttered around the party but found themselves stopped by an invisible barrier conjured by Trisoll. Repelled and frustrated, the insects moved on from their seemingly impenetrable prey. The party watched as the insects buzzed around the rest of the ship, and after finding nothing else on deck worth defiling, fluttered off into the distance behind them in search of an easier meal. The last hour was smooth sailing as they pulled into the docks of Greyhawk.

The party unloaded at the docks and discussed how the trade off for the items should take place.
“Do we want to set up a meeting with them?” Thom asked while the hirelings unloaded the horses and chests at the cargo gate.
“We ought to go to them, ourselves” Grum suggested. “Better business.”
“Why don’t we have them come to us?” Lyssa interjected
“Where do you suggest we meet them then? Pimpleton Manor?” Thom asked.
“We should deliver the goods.” Moira reasoned. “Perhaps there’s a third party venue?”
“What about that Friendly Strangers place over in Newhope?” Lyssa asked.
“Yeah, what about your mom’s place?” Trisoll followed up.
“Well, we have access to the VIP room” Grum
“And if something goes wrong, we always have Tic Toc to help us”

Moira sends word to the collector’s that they have returned and they wish to handle the trade off at Friendly Strangers post haste. Even now, Grunt can feel the buzz of Blackrazor’s hungry hum gnawing at the inside of his mind. Together, they made their way to Friendly Strangers and the Black brothers arranged to have a private room set up, ready for the meeting with Greyhawk’s most affluent. The party entered the cabaret during its afternoon matinee, where Tic Toc had already taken the stage to warm the crowd up with his unique brand of charismatic banter. The party is escorted to the back, where attendants prepare the room by lighting incense and lanterns and filling the buffet with assorted food and drink. The party waits for about an hour for the first of the collector’s to show.
“What do we even want from them?” Trisoll posed to his companions.
“Well, whatever it is it had better be individual to us.” Grum argues.
“Not necessarily. I mean, we could pull our resources together for strongholds, lands—“ Thom begins to reason.
“I don’t know, Thom. I mean, I kind of like having my own wish!” Trisoll rebuttals.
“What about you, Lyssa?” Thom asks the mage.
“I… I honestly don’t know yet.”
“Vetnik?”
Before Vetnik could answer the bard, a knock came at the door followed by an attendant. “Master Black, you have a vistor,” the attendant announced before holding the door open for the first guest. “Captain Giltok.”
Moira and Vetnik stand promptly while Lyssa and Grunt meander up as the captain enters. He is an old dwarf, bald with a full and long beard of coarse silver hair. His uniform is decorated with an array of medals of Honor and valor. One in particular speaks to his time as Guard Captain of Greyhawk! Moira bows before the aged warrior as he limps in with his attendant.
“A second pair of visitors, from House Woodley: Barton and his daughter, Matrice.” The party remained standing as the rich Woodleys entered, both of dark features and garbed in rich, deep outfits appropriate of a family of their wealth and privilege. Those in the party with social graces bowed politely before the collectors, and noticing Vetnik decorated armor, responded accordingly – all except Matrice Woodley, whose father urged her to be more respectful.
“Master Black, a third visitor is here to see your party.”
“Who is it?” Thom answered back.
“Lord Eldon, sir,” the attendant replied, “of House Cerzan.”
All of sudden Lyssa seemed to tense up as Eldon Cerzan entered the room. She did little to hide her discomfort with his presence, though the room was dimly lit.
“Shall we begin then?” Thom said, ushering both parties over to a long empty table.

Captain Giltok spoke first, “I am Jardan Giltok, former Guard Captain of this fair city. So you have retrieved Whelm for me?”
Vetnik pulls it out and places it upon the table.
“Oh, I thought I’d never see it again. I cannot thank you enough, kind sir. Whelm belonged Beldak Tenandin who fell at the Battle of the Black Deep and I have held it ever since. This is a very special weapon for my family and I. I thank you good sir knight, and your companions, for returning it safely.”
As Captain Giltok took the hammer up from the table into his hands, Thom approached with Wave in his.
“Ah yes!” Lord Eldon exclaimed, taking the trident into his hands. “My gift to the temple of the great Poseidon, built to honor him just outside of Bayerton. Safe! I cannot thank you enough, bard. I cannot believe we all are here, truly you are all great warriors!”
Before the Woodleys could approach and before Grunt could unburden himself of Blackrazor, Lyssa whispered to him. “Give me the sword.” He barely looked to the mage and without resistance, passed the sword to her before stepping back and taking a seat, scabbard and all.
Blackrazor’s ego spiked as she as she took the blade into her hand. “Yesss mistress, you will feed me! I hunger! Long days at sea without anything to eat!”
“Hello, I am Barton Woodley and I am here for Blackrazor—“ the socialite began before noticing he was addressing Lyssa alone. “Matrice, darling, these brave people were kind enough to bring your sword back.”
Matrice stayed seated in her chair, rolling her eyes at the tedious exchange. “I told you, I want the Amulet of the Planes! I don’t care about this stupid sword any more. Daddy it’s beautiful, not like that tired old sword. I can’t wear a sword around my neck!”
“Cortox take me.” Barton moaned to himself.

Lyssa approached the table with Blackrazor in hand and faced Barton Woodley. Before he could continue to address Lyssa, she drew the blade out of its embroidered scabbard, turned to Eldon Cerzan who stood in between the captain and the socialite, and lifted up the shimmering black sword.
“You!” Lyssa said, her glare as pointed as him as the blade in her hand.
“I beg… I beg your pardon,” Eldon began to stammer, confused by the now-hostile exchange. Moira stepped forward and planted herself directly behind Lyssa, ready to tame the mercurial mage should anything start to go awry. The rest of the party was now on alert, ready for the worst but hoping for the best. Lyssa kept her eyes on Eldon Cerzan though, and without taking them away, she slammed the sword down upon the thick wooden table. The crashing sound seemed to shake Eldon but only for a moment.
“You do not recognize me, do you Lord Eldon?” Lyssa asked.
“N-n-no, should I?” he replied with increasing composure.
“Of course you don’t. I only toiled away on your farms in Bayerton, my family and I for more than two decades.”
“Ah, you mean my father’s lands.” Eldon replied, trying to deflect Lyssa’s aggression. “For which I know he’s always been tremendously thankful, now, if you could please just put the sword on the—“
“What are you offering us for these items? All of you?” Lyssa barked, the ego of Blackrazor weaving through her mind like a hissing black snake.
“Wh-what is it you all seek? I mean you have all completed your tasks quite… completely.” Eldon continued to stammer. “However, Barton—“
“Look, my lady, if it’s the blade you desire, we can discuss a price. Frankly, my daughter has lost interest in the thing, and I have no attachment to it beyond its worth.”
“Daddy, can we leave now?” Matrice whined.
“No! This is business,” her father scolded in return. He returned his attention to the party before him. “You all have completed the request of the contract and retrieved all three items. Now, what is it you wish to gain from us?”

Lyssa stepped back, Blackrazor still in hand and allowed her companions to take the floor. Thom was first to speak and most eager to do so. “For starters, I would like land and a stronghold!”
“Are we to build this stronghold for you?” Barton asked.
“Or give me the funds and the materials for it.”
“I believe I can assist with this,” Eldon began, “I have a parcel of land you might find suitable. One of my trading companies will supply you will all the stone you need. The men to construct this stronghold of yours, however, that is up to you. I will provide the materials and the land alone.” With a snap of his fingers, Eldon’s attendant rushed up to his side. After a few whispered words from Eldon to his attendant, Eldon turned back to Thom with a slight smile across his face. “You will have the land signed over to you before sundown.” Thom took Eldon’s hand and shook it heartily. “Grum?”
“Same thing, I suppose.”
Lord Eldon looked hesitant at first and returned to the hushed conversation between he and his attendant. His attendant paused and pulled a map from out of his coat and unfurled it onto the table. On it was a elegantly penned map of Greyhawk and its bordering lands (including Bayerton in Furyondy.) Eldon and his assistant surveyed the map quickly and marked off a dark spot of land opposite of Thom’s plot. “Yes, that seems doable. There is a parcel of land available to you in these marshes over here. They will require a bit more development, but again, the materials will be at your disposal and are yours to do with as you like.”
Grum takes Eldon’s hands and shakes just as his brother did. “Grunt, what do you require?”
“Ruby slippers,” the gloomy scout grumbled from behind the Black brothers.
“If its jeweled footwear y’seek—“ Captain Giltok began, confused by the hooded man’s queer request.
“Excuse my companion, captain,” Grum began to apologize, “he’s not quite used to these sorts of exchanges, yet.”
“Then perhaps some kind of favor from the Guild of Mages, perhaps?” Barton suggested.
“No! No magic. No money either,” Grunt more boisterously replied. He continued to mutter under his breath, “What good is being rich in a world I don’t want to be in any way?”
“Well boy, if it’s not land nor magic you require, what is it you seek? Money? A new weapon to take Blackrazor’s place?” Barton replied impatiently.
Grunt took a pause at the prospect of a new weapon. While he hated having Blackrazor’s influence in his head, the blade’s power was unmistakable. Barton took notice and whispered to his attendant briefly before excusing him.
“There is a longbow in my possession called (INSERT BOW NAME). It is free of ego and its aim is always true. The make of it is adamantine steel yet light as a feather. You won’t find a better bow outside of Enstad this I guarantee. My attendant will have it for you very soon.”

Moira stepped forward and requested a parcel of land from any of the men who could donate it to her. “Something as close to Greyhawk as possible, my lords.”
“I’m sure there’s something I can spare in the southern outskirts of the city,” Barton informed. “Again, what you do with it is your lot to determine. I’m sure Lord Eldon and I can come together to figure out how to divvy up materials.”
“Understood, my lord. Cortox’s blessing to you,” Moira said, bowing her head in gratitude.
Trisoll approached the table and as he did, he casually rested his hand upon Lyssa’s shoulder. “Well, sirs,” he began before realizing whose space he was encroaching upon. Taking his hand back, he leaned over towards the map and looked over the lands marked off for his companions. “There,” he pointed at a spot marked off in Woodley territory to the northeast.
“So it’s land you seek as well?” Barton asked bluntly as he pulled the map away from the unceremonious cleric.
“Yeah, well. I figure it’s time to really get a sanctuary together. I mean, Trithereon—“
“Yes, very good,” Barton continued, interrupting the cleric. “And what about you,” he asked exasperated by the stream of requests and Matrice’s waning patience. “What do you, my lady?”
“I want my home, and I know between your three powerful houses, you’ll be able to give it to me.”
“You want your home?” Lord Eldon asked before stepping back to hand the floor back to Barton.
“Yes, I want what is rightfully mine.”
“And what is rightfully yours?”
“Castle Greyhawk.”
The three men took a brief pause and looked to each other before looking back at her. Unable to contain themselves, they burst into a chorus of nervous laughter. “Oh, if we had the means to explore that massive ruin, it would have been done long ago!” Captain Giltok said, his weathered cheeks rosy with hearty laughter. “The dangers that lie within the castle of the madman, there’s no — that is beyond even our reach and power!”
“Well, you could give it to her as is,” Thom reasoned.
“I believe it belongs to no one!” Barton replied.
“It belongs to me,” Lyssa revealed, stifling the men’s laughter.
“I beg your pardon, my lady?” Barton asked. “It belongs to you? That was the ruinous castle of Zagyg the Mad, dear girl!”
“It is my birthright!”
“Is this true?” Thom asked Lyssa, knowing of the rumored, sordid history of the ruins of Castle Greyhawk through prose and verse penned by famous bards and storytellers. She was unresponsive though and continued to stare Barton and Eldon down.
“We cannot do that as we do not possess those lands. Those lands belong to whatever foul things dwell in it now.” Barton began. Suddenly, realizing Blackrazor was still under her hand, he continued. “What we can do though is make sure that Greyhawk recognizes you as its legal owner. Do with that what you will, but the ruins will be your responsibility.”
“Fine,” Lyssa said before releasing Blackrazor from her hand and sliding it casually across the table to Barton.

“And what of you, good sir knight?” Captain Giltok asked the silent cavalier. “What is it you seek from us?”
“I wish to go home,” he replied coldly. The party’s head whipped to face the cavalier in shock. Even Lyssa jerked her head around, confused by the knight’s request.
“Vetnik?” Moira asked, shaken by his request.
“It’s time for me to go home,” he said, hesitant to face his companions.
“Malarkey!” Thom cried out. “Vetnik, you came here to represent your nation, you can’t leave now! Trade, exploration, education… your people know how to be themselves, but you have an opportunity to bring something back to them!”
“My people need me. My family needs me.”
“We need you,” Moira pleaded, taking his hand into hers.
While the display of affection had always seemed to make Lyssa uncomfortable, she too spoke up for the prince to stay. “Ugh, why don’t you just ask these men if they have something that can send you to and form?
Vetnik looked up at Lyssa with frustration across his face. As the party did their best to reason through the stubbornness of the cold prince, the collectors quietly gathered their things and prepared to leave the party to bicker with each other. Matrice was quickest to the door and Barton’s attendant hastened to keep up with her. Barter sighed and picked up Blackrazor, placing it back into its scabbard as he sauntered after his daughter. Lord Eldon seemed dubious to leave, but seeing Lyssa preoccupied with Vetnik and the others, quickly rolled up his map and stepped hastily towards the exit, using Barton as a human shield of sorts. Captain Giltok was last to leave, and as he did, he had no bones about interrupting the party’s discussion. He patted the cavalier on his gauntlet and nodded up to him.
“Yes, well, it appears ye got more thinking to do, good sir knight. When you figure out what it is you really want, come visit me. I won’t be hard to find.”

Before Captain Giltok could leave the private room, the sound of a war horn echoed outside. The party stopped their squabbling and froze, listening for the sound of more horns. The cabaret came to a standstill, as patrons and performers alike waited as well. Indeed, only moments later, a second horn sounded across town, followed by a third and a forth from opposite directions. Vetnik turned and rushed to the door. “Pardon me, captain,” he excused himself as he passed the aged Dwarf.
“By all means,” he said as he stepped aside and made way for the rest of the party.
Outside of the cabaret, Vetnik untethered his stallion and watched as the city guard and militiamen poured out of the Grand Citadel and rushed towards the ruins of Castle Greyhawk. Archers and siege weapon operators rushed towards up the hill to the ruins of Castle Greyhawk while warriors on horseback raced and emptied out of the Cargo Gate nearby. Over the war horns, Vetnik could only hear one creature mentioned: “GIANTS!” He hopped upon his steed but before making their way to the Cargo Gate, Moira reached out and tugged at his boot.
“One last glory before you go?”
“One last time.” The pair nodded at each other and Moira climbed up onto the horse. She wrapped her arms around his waist and together they rode off, fast as they could to the city gate.

As Thom and the rest of the party emptied out of the cabaret, he saw the current Guard Captain, Garyn Waller, leading a squad of men on horseback towards the gate.
“Guard Captain!” Thom called out, “What’s going on?”
“Giants are on their way down the Cairn Hills! Hill and Stone alike, working in tandem!” Guard Captain Waller shouted back before catching up with his men.
Thom and his companions shuttered as what might have provoked them. It was no time to be introspective though; war was racing towards the city wall! Thom rubbed the empty groove of his ring and as he did the space of the groove flickered with dim, white light. Suddenly, Thom lifted himself straight up into the air and took flight! Flying high above the town, he made his way towards Castle Greyhawk, where beyond it, he saw more than a dozen large bodies rushing towards the city from the hills. Thom himself was all too familiar with the make of the oafish Hill Giants, but this had been his first encounter with the legendary Stone Giants. They were taller and more athletic, with mottled grey skin that made it look as if the mountains themselves had taken shape. In their hands, the Giants wielded boulders and tree trunks banded together to make extraordinarily thick clubs. Thom raced towards the Cargo Gate and watched as others took flight: mages from the University wielding all manner of spells, magical wands and staves.

Another man all too familiar with the veracity of Giants was Zemilay Lyks. From Pimpleton Manor, he and his family could hear the war horns sound, followed by the clamor of warriors and screaming of civilians, capped by the sound of rocks crashing against the city walls. He urged Burbis, George, and his darling wife Xanti to take shelter beneath the house. They did as they were told and hid in the cellar. Lyks limped out of his house and just as he descended down the steps, two sights took his attention. The first was a spell cast on the house by none other than Burbis Baggleton, which transformed the manor into a ruined husk. Immediately after, he watched as a particularly large boulder crashed against one of the towers of Castle Greyhawk and slid down back into the Selitan River. He put his fingers to his lips and let out a boisterous whistle and only moments later, his faithful Pegasus, Snowflake, galloped to the druid’s side. Snowflake leaned down and allowed for easier access for the hobbled druid, and together they flew as fast as they could to Castle Greyhawk.

Lyssa and Grum rushed to Castle Greyhawk to take position with the archers. Grum did his best to hone his ears on the chaos of the city, but could not yet discern why the Giants were ambushing. Before he could depart the cabaret, Grunt was stopped by a vaguely familiar man: Barton’s attendant, who cradled a large object wrapped in silk embroidered with the crest of House Woodley. “Sir!”
“What now?”
“Sir the bow you requested. (INSERT NAME HERE)!”
Grunt unwrapped the bow and tossed the silk to the ground (to which the attendant quickly reached down and folded it back up for later use.) Grunt quickly surveyed the ornate thing; he had yet to possess anything so finely crafted, but something irregular stuck out to him. “Where’s the bloody string?!”
“I know only little about (INSERT NAME HERE), but this bow possesses an invisible string that materializes only after your arrows are nocked.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Grunt said, pushing the nervous attendant aside before catching up with the others at Castle Greyhawk.

Grum broke away from Lyssa, who continued onwards up the ruins of Castle Greyhawk where a squad of archers readied themselves for battle. On the way out of the Cargo Gate, Grum spotted his teacher and recently appointed head of the Thieves Guild, Thurman Dietrien, leading a band of thieves with bows and blades in hand. “Thurman! Do you know what brought these ugly bastards down from the hills?”
“Rumor has it, the hallowed tombs were sacked by thieves from Greyhawk. Nystra’s doings, no doubt! Who else would have been foolish enough to rob the giant dead?”
Grum’s stomach sunk as he ran alongside his teacher. “Yeah.”
As the thieves raced out of the city, they watched as rocks and debris crashed down upon the first wave of warriors. Clerics from every good-natured church rushed the battlefield, dragging back the injured to heal and taking the bodies of the dead to be buried appropriately. Up on the hill, Lyssa stood on high and watched as the cadre of giants raced closer and closer towards the city, bashing and stomping those standing in their way. As the archers took up their bows, she called out to them. “Archers, ready your arrows,” she shouted with fiery red eyes. The captain of the archers gave her once glance and supported her call to arms. “Ready, men!” The twenty archers at her side did as commanded and as they nocked their bows back, their arrowheads burst into magical flame simultaneously. “Steady!” she continued as she watched the giants barrel closer and closer.

Down on the ground, Trisoll made his way towards the front line and began to call upon Trithereon once more. A shimmering mist of teal green emanated from Trisoll’s body and wafted around the soldiers from Greyhawk, bestowing upon them a cloak of bravery.

Lyks and Snowflake hovered in the air over the battlefield. Lyks concentrated on a section of debris set ablaze by a mage’s fireball and as the blurry haze of heat sizzled in the palm of his hand, the flame began to take shape. At first it appeared as a serpent of pure flame that slithered out of the debris, but as Lyks continued to concentrate, the coil of flame lurched upright before flaming, humanlike arms burst from the sides, followed by a leg and then a second. Between the armies of Greyhawk and the rushing Giants stood an imposing and scorching sight: an elemental being of pure fire! The creature lumbered towards the giants leaving scorched earth with every step. The arms of the elemental became more fluid and serpentlike with every striking blow. Giants howled as the fire elemental’s fiery hands slashed across their barely-covered skin and set fire to the wood of their makeshift clubs. The giants barely had time to get the bearings when all of a sudden, a large sword of glowing, crystal blue energy materialized in the center of the battlefield. It hovered vertically only for a moment before the blade surged and spawned seven more blades of a similar make. The vertical blades began to spin together slowly at first, but before the giants could approach or back away, the blades dropped in unison to a horizontal position. The cries of the giants echoed throughout the battlefield as the whirling blade barrier hacked into those unwise enough to be in its path. Giantblood flowed down through the singed grass of the hill towards the Cargo Gate as the armies of Greyhawk cheered. Lyks looked around and could only see a single priest floating in the air below him, seemingly controlling the blade barrier from afar. The blade barrier disappeared and the giants charged towards the city with bloody fury. Both giants and Greyhawkians marched and fell, with all manner of attack zipping through the air: everything from boulders and tree trunks ripped from the earth to fireballs and lightning bolts cast down from mages.

Settling with another band of archers, Grunt spent a few moments observing the giants attacking the city. His eyes were fixed on a vocal Stone giant dressed in furs and leathers and decorated in white earth clay. This was most certainly their chieftain. Feeling ambitious, Grunt took up (INSERT NAME HERE) and held it just as he would any other longbow. It’s weight was remarkable though, and as he began to nock back an arrow, the air swirled around his finger tips and a thin, mercury-like string began to appear, stretching the length of the bow. “Let’s see what you can do,” he grumbled to himself before firing. He drew back effortlessly and fired; the arrow zipped across the battlefield with unparalleled speed. The shock of the bow’s range startled even the cynical scout. While the arrow traveled far, his inexperience with the weapon did little to help his form as he watched it fly out of range of the chieftain, who bellowed at the sight of the arrow zipping by. Mere seconds later, a voice from the level above Grunt called out. It was Lyssa: “FIRE!” A wave of flaming arrows was then set loose into the sky and Grunt watched as the arrows rained down upon the giants, boring themselves into their bodies. The siege weapons followed and catapulted jagged rock and flaming refuse down onto the giant hordes. As the chieftain continued to bark at his charges to avoid the onslaught of projectiles launched at them by the armies of Greyhawk, Grum took his place on the wall and aimed his arrows. The chieftain proved nimble once more, jerking his head out of the path of Grum’s arrows.

Vetnik and Moira made it onto the battlefield as both giant and man continued to have it out. Moira leaped off the back of the horse while Vetnik continued to ride. “By Cortox!” Moira cried out as she cut low with Starstrike in hand. Vetnik charged at the same Stone Giant with sword and shield and with their combined strength, fell the tall beast. As the giant collapsed to the ground, Vetnik rode up beside the paladin, their faces both flush with the passion of battle. Moira looked up at him and smiled and without word, he extended his arm to her. She leaped back onto his steed and together they continued on. Back at Castle Greyhawk, the archers loosed a second wave of arrows. Whether it was the number of giants being thinned or the lack of fire attached to them, the archers were less successful in their hits the second time around. The giants mobilized and took up the rocks and debris launched at them by the siege weapons and turned their artillery against them. Despite their thinning ranks, the giants pushed forward. The various clergy even took casualties of their own while attending to the wounded and the dead. In an effort to protect the armies of his city, Lyks conjured a hallucinatory forest between the giants and Greyhawk. Trisoll concentrated on the creatures dwelling beneath the earth and the armies watched as all manner of legged and squirming insect burrowed out of the ground in countless numbers to inch their way up the legs of the giants. The armies hacked and slashed at the giants, who now struggled to keep their footing thanks to the combination of father and son. Meanwhile, Grunt kept his eyes on the chieftain and continued to fire. While the bow still proved something of a challenge to wield at first, Grunt quickly began to warm to it. His second shot proved more effective as he watched it fly across the field and into the clavicle of the chieftain. He ripped the arrow out of his neck and growled for his men to double up!

While in midair, Thom drew his Kettle of Drumming! While cradling the kettle under his arm, he began to beat upon the side of the artifact. A strange, metallic sound echoed across the battlefield. The giants clasped their ears shut with their hands, unable to bear the sound of the Thom’s beat. So offended by the sound, the stone giant chieftain took up a nearby boulder and flung it at the flying bard. Before he could move out of range, the boulder collided into Thom and sent he and his kettle careening back towards the earth. A hill giant takes similar actions by launching his boulder towards the ruins of Castle Greyhawk towards the tower occupied by Grunt and Lyssa. The heavy rock collided into the crowds of archers, crushing a number of them – including Grunt! Lyssa too felt the effects of the crash, which shook her team of archers from below. Lyssa stumbled to the floor and watched as the last of the giants continued to mow down the armies of Greyhawk. Filled with rage, Grum unleashed two more arrows at the now laughing stone giant chieftain, but his rage proved to be his undoing as the arrows flew aimlessly and missed. While the archers staggered back to their feet to prepare a third round of arrows, Lyssa took notice Grum and Grunt’s attack on the chieftain. Once in her sights, she quickly armed herself with her longbow and nocked a single arrow. Using the focus and breathing techniques taught to her by the Black brothers, she calmed herself and steadied her aim. With a soft exhale, she released the arrow and watched as it descended down onto the battlefield. The chieftain watched the arrow zip from the tower and before he could react, Lyssa’s arrow burrowed into the eye of painted chieftain with such fury that it shot out of the back of his skull, raining flesh, blood and brain matter down upon the ground. The chieftain sunk to his knees and collapsed onto the ground to the sound of Greyhawkians cheering all around.

From above, Lyks called down to the Hill Giants still standing: “YOUR CHIEFTAIN HAS FALLEN! SURRENDER NOW WHILE YOU STILL HAVE LIVES LEFT TO SAVE!” The last few giants took a pause and turned to each other then at the gore of their fallen chieftain. An eerie moment of calm descended upon the battlefield accompanied by heavy grey clouds that blocked out the remaining sun. The moment was short-lived. The giants banded together and let out a series of chilling war cries, beating their chests and taking up arms before rushing the city wall. Together they flung boulders, tree parts and even the corpses of fallen Greyhawkians back at the opposing armies, destroying a good portion of siege weapons as well as warriors. One stone giant tore off the arm of a fallen giant and launched it to a squad of archers like a horrid javelin, decimating their ranks. Wasting no more time, Grum fired off two more arrows, sticking and felling one of the few remaining hill giants. The grey clouds darkened and began to rumble with the sound of thunder. Lyks extended his staff away from himself, out towards the sky and with a war cry of his own, cast down a lightning bolt from the clouds that traveled through his gnarled wooden staff and down upon the battlefield, electrifying a remaining stone giant. Back down on the ground, Thom staggered back up to his feet and cast burning hands on a nearby giant, immolating it. Grunt got on his feet as well as launched a pair of arrows into a lumbering hill giant, both of which pierced deep into its flesh and fell it. Moira wildly slashed at another hill giant, cutting at its knees and shins. Unable to stand anymore, the giant buckled to the ground. Before it could call out for help, Moira drove Starstrike deep into the eye of the giant, slaying it for good.
“Can your lady do that?” Moira quipped to Vetnik. Feeling renewed with vigor, the last few archers banded together to unleash another wave of arrows into the giants. Those manning the siege weapons were not so lucky, as one catapult wielding flaming debris exploded, lowering the city’s defense. The mages continued to conjure the most powerful spells at their disposal while elementals of fire and air swirled and stomped wildly across the battlefield. The clergymen and women struggled to secure the soldiers, but did what they could as lightning continued to crackle above. Seeing the last few giants fend off the attacks from the armies of Greyhawk, Lyssa’s patience reached a tipping point. Whether it was bloodlust or wild surge, she unleashed a massive fireball down upon them that exploded with a great amber glow that engulfed those still left standing.

Those who did not fall quickly wised up and began their retreat, leaving behind the smoking and bloodied bodies of the fallen. Lyks helped to calm the skies, dismissed the fire elemental he had conjured, and descended down onto the battlefield. It was there that he found his dear friend Thom limping across the field. The bard was a bloodied and bruised mess. Lyks climbed down off of Snowflake and hobbled towards.
“Dear boy!” Lyks called out, rushing as quickly as he could. Thom picked up his pace as well, excited to see his old friend. The pair embraced in a gentlemanly hug and held tight to each other. As they embraced, Zemilay Lyks began to channel the very essence of the earth beneath them. Veins of glowing green energy inched their way up out of the earth and surrounded the pair, dissolving into Thom’s battered body. He could feel the broken bones inside snap back together; the torn sinew of muscles rethread itself; and the gashes that marred his face seal shut. “Thank you, Master Lyks!”
“Next time, try not to get hit by a giant’s boulder.”

Grum, Grunt and the other thieves armed with bows continued to fire off arrows at the defeated giants, cheering and laughing as they landed. Vetnik and Moira watched together as the last of the giants crossed the horizon. Together they tended to their wounded, helping the clerics to take them off the field before running into Trisoll, who spent his time healing those in need. The clouds now fully parted, Lyssa opened a dimension door – much to the awe of the surviving archers – and through it they could see the blasted head of the stone giant chieftain. She stepped through and the door disappeared. On the other side, she spent some time looking over the body of the chieftain for relics. “Surely,” she thought to herself, “he’d have something just as useful as the enchanted belt she’d taken off the hill giant chieftain.” Alas, she found nothing but bloodied garments and weapons too large for her to wield. She looked around, and seeing no one in sight, began to dig into the still-warm corpse of the chieftain in search of components for spells and potions. While Vetnik helped a nearby cleric cart off an injured soldier, Moira looked to the sky and the setting sun. She turned back to Vetnik, the sun sparkling off his armor, and spun him around. Without announcement, she quickly pulled his face close to hers and planted a warm and passionate kiss upon his lips. She pulled back quickly and the pair looked into each other’s eyes, and lingered there for a moment. The sun danced across their faces, glistening from sweat and stained with giant’s blood, their eyes swelling with a gamut of emotions. The cheering of men and the sound of horns break their moment and the separate to see a mix of triumph and mourning among the Greyhawkians.

On her way back towards the city, Lyssa passed both Vetnik and Moira, who both seemed quite solemn as they walked side by side. Passing Vetnik, Lyssa remarked one last thing: “Where else would you be able to slay giants?”

The party all agree to convene at Pimpleton Manor to celebrate their victory and see Vetnik off should he truly decide to leave. Beforehand, Thom goes to the library to do a quick round of research while Lyssa returns home to drop off items and consult the Eye of Modius about what lurks in Castle Greyhawk. A wave of vivid images flood her mind: three ruined towers, level upon level upon level of, horrors, traps and fiends. The idea that so very much evil and reward could be so very close all this time is staggering. More than 25 separate levels flash by in an instant. A few takeaways; a being whose form is naught but swirling light, Umber Hulks standing over an impressive treasure, a dead human laying face down only feet away from a portal, a straw bed filled with maggots, a 6 foot pyramid of packed earth, a stone drawbridge with glowing chains, a circle of runes surrounded by white incense sticks in deep purple sconces, a dozen female giants and their spawn and lastly, an aged red dragon before the vision becomes too much.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

“Are you my champion?” the sentient trident asked Grunt telepathically. Grunt rolled his eyes as he carried Wave out of the refuse of bones back to the party. Though the trident had spoken with him, he could feel a separate force compelling him to another in his party.
“Here,” he said, showing off the bronze trident to his companions. The party took a moment to look over the strange and delicate details of the object: on side of the trident, an elegantly carved octopus entangled itself around and through the forks and came together to frame the carved face of a bearded man, also cast from bronze. Grunt held the trident for all to see, but he could feel the strange force guiding it towards Thom. The men met eyes (or what Thom could make of eyes underneath Grunt’s oversized cowl) and as Thom took Wave into his hand, a sudden and calming sensation washed over him. The scent of salty sea air wafted into his nose as Wave began to download its history into him.
“My champion!” Wave exclaimed as it revealed its power to Thom. The artifact was made in honor of the sea god Poseidon and was even imbued with the sea god’s holy blessing. Just as Whelm seemed to hone Thom’s senses to the precious metals that surrounded him, Wave also had a similar effect. Thom’s brain tingled with jolts of psychic energy as Wave connected him to the feeble minds of the water-dwelling creatures still in the mountain. From the mindless cave fish that swam through the suspended water wall around them to the final glint of life in the giant crab before completely dying.

“They like finding me as much as I like finding them!” Thom smiled as he belted the trident to his back. The electricity in Thom’s mind stopped as he removed his hand from Wave and severed his connection to the aquatic life forms that remained.
“Looks like we got what we came here for. What say you all about making sure there’s nothing else left for us here in the mountain?”
“I say we got what we came here for and now it’s time to go,” Lyssa answered.
“I’m all for getting more coin,” Grunt began, “but if we go back, what’s not to say that someone or something hasn’t reset the traps we’ve disarmed or summoned a bigger pain in the ass to take us out?”
“All we need to do is figure out how to get through that turnstile,” Moira began to reason.
“And if it’s a dead end, or worse?” Lyssa
The party backtracked out of the crab’s cave, shutting the trio of heavy-duty metal doors shut behind them before cutting around the pool of the slain kelpies. They filed out into the corridor and continued south back towards the hall of the Gynosphinx. The party entered and found the beast still perched on her dais facing the main entrance.

They exit back south, closing doors behind them, and head through the kelpie’s chamber. They go to cross the pool. Thom lays out more rope and they make it across the drained pool. They pass through the hall of former green slime through the flesh golem room back to the turnstile. They pass through the turnstile w/o incident, Grum leading them through. They enter southwards and Grum spies a door at the end. They dop and Thom hears the sound of steam. Moira doesn’t detect anything evil behind the door. They enter onto a stone platform and see a large natural cave. The floor is 50’ below a pool of boiling mud. Lyssa takes the rope while Thom keeps time on the mud and she flies over the platforms. As she ties it off, hot mud splashes against the rope. Grunt crosses w/o incident, impressing Grum with his agility. While Grum climbs, the geyser erupts off rhythm. He flips off the rope and grabs it once the geyser calms. The warriors and Trisoll cross safely. Thom is last, having kept rhythm for the entire party. As Thom climbs across he falls but grabs onto the slimy chain of the platform and clings to it. He climbs up to the chain back to the rope and makes his way across.

They collect the rope and approach a door. No noise, no traps or locks. Grum opens into a 50’ corridor with a door at the end, normal yet swollen by the humid cave air. Grum offers to open it and he pops it open with a bit of strain. Suspended from the ceiling are 9 silver glass globes. They enter and the door slams shut behind them (Lyssa), the keyhole and door knob now gone. The brothers and Grunt search the room for some kind of trap mechanism or secret exit. Thom uses Whelm to detect anything of wealth in the room. He feels gems very close by while Grum and Grunt try to pry open the lock but discover that there is no keyhole to be picked! Vetnik charges the door but the seemingly frail wooden door is like concrete when attacked. Grum looks for the gems

“Does that mean there’s gems in these globes?” Tri
“Grum, use your gem!” Lys

Grum inspects the globes and finds inside of them a key and some other object inside. Lyssa takes a moment to consult the Eye of Modius to see if she can discern the way out. The message is cold and vague at first but she finds out that not all of the globes hold treasures – some hold peril!

“Well, we could rest. I assume if nothing can escape, then nothing can get in.”
“Good idea. Lyssa, can you see about opening a dimension door out of here?”
“I’ll have to study for a little bit, but I can try.”

While Lyssa relearns her spells, Grum inspects a couple of the globes. The first he can hear the sound of glass against glass. The second is heavier. He and Vetnik go back to the first and Vet tries to cut the cord, but finds the cord impenetrable. He smashes the globe and glass gems and a key rain down. Thom discerns that inauthenticity by hovering Whelm over it. When he picks up the key, a keyhole appears on the door. Grum moves on to a third globe which is lighter. He hears the key jingle against other metal. Lyssa tries to dimension door out but the spell is blocked. Vetnik smashes a second globe open and sees a ring and key fall out. Thom discerns that the ring is a charged ring of flying. He slips it onto his finger. Vetnik shatters a third globe and finds a wand and a third key. Thom discloses that the wand is a wand of paralyzation. Vetnik smashes another globe and out falls a vial of liquid, which both he and Thom are quick to catch. Thom discovers the vial full of mercury, a potion of silver dragon control.

Trisoll takes the key from the fake gem globe, tries to open door with it but it fails. Grunt pulls out Blackrazor and he detects his party members before approaching another globe. He detects no soul.

“Well, at least there’s not a dragon in there.”

Trisoll checks a second key, from the potion globe, but doesn’t unlock. He uses the key with the wand but again, nothing happens. He tries the forth, with the ring of flying, and finds it’s also false. Vetnik smashes a globe in the center of the room and as a result releases three Shadows. Moira tries to turn them but fails miserably. They set their sights on her. Grum strikes with Slå and delivers a mighty blow. Thom incinerates the other two. Grunt fires two arrows at the final one but both miss. Vetnik strikes with a longsword and fells it. Among their remains, they leave a pool of 300 lead pieces. Trisoll rushes and takes the shadows’ key and attempts to use it but it also proves useless. Vetnik smashes another globe and out falls a ring and another key. The speaks to the telepathically. While the others argue over the powerful ring, Lyssa takes the key from the globe and successfully unlocks the door. Thom rolls between himself and Trisoll for the ring, which Trisoll wins. Grunt lusts after it but Trisoll quickly puts it on. He goes in and out of visibility.

Thom contains the ooze with a cube of force c/o Wave.

Thom uses his ring to fly across, Lyssa flies herself across and casts levitate on Grum, pulling him forward. Thom casts fly on Moira and Vetnik who carry Grunt and Trisoll respectively. At the turnstile, Vetnik and Grum try to turn it but fail. Grunt attempts and forces it open. They head out towards the Sphinx and are stopped by an invisible object. A voice calls out to them:

“Not thinking of leaving, are you?” asked a desiccated voice that echoed through the Gynosphinix’s chamber. The sphinx looked up and softly shuddered to itself before climbing down off of her stone dais as fast as her aged body could. The party watched the sphinx lurch into a corridor; now alone with only a row of flickering torches lining the walls of the chamber, the voice continued to speak. “You have been so entertaining, I just could not think of letting you go, especially with those little collector’s items of mine. And since you have eliminated all of my guardians, why, you will simply have to stay… to take their places.” The party drew their weapons and clamored close around each other as the hoarse voice let out an echoing cackle. “I will have to ask you to leave all of your ridiculous weapons behind and let Nix and Nox escort you to the Indoctrination Center.” The flickering torches that lined the walls of the Gynosphinx’s chamber erupted into small geysers of flame as the crunch of heavy, lumbering feet against the stone corridor sounded. The scent of burning coal and smoke began to fill the hall but the party looked all around them, down into the shadowy corridor, and struggled to find a source. “I will be most disappointed if you cause me any trouble and Nix and Nox have to eliminate you. Do not worry – you will like it here.” The voice let out one last despicable laugh and as his voice echoed away, two figures began to emerge out of the dark corridor. The pair were identical in nearly every way, from their muscled bodies covered in cracked and spiked rust-colored flesh to the series of ebon horns decorating their heads like crowns, their brows furrowed and framed glowing ember eyes as they set sights upon the party. Fully emerged from the darkness, they dwarfed all in the party (including Moira and Vetnik), towering over them at 12’ feet tall each! They looked down upon the party and as they grinned, the party could see a burning amber glow behind their pristine rows of fanged teeth.

Vetnik braved the pair of djinn first as he broke from circle, cutting into Nix with his longsword. His blade drew not blood but thick, liquid magma that slowly seeped from the wound before cauterizing itself and sealing itself shut. Nix’s grin turned to grimace as he let out a ferocious war cry. Terrified, Trisoll moved towards the back of the party and began to pray to Trithereon for protection from the magical fires of the Efreet. While Trisoll prayed, Grum pulled Lyn and Slå from their holsters and swiped at the roaring Efreeti with his electric blades. Unfortunately, Grum’s swiftness made for sloppy technique as Nix casually dodged his blades. Grunt, meanwhile, could feel the energy of both Efreet vibrating towards him, a vibration that did not go unnoticed by Blackrazor.
“Yessss!” its sinister voice buzzed through Grunt’s brain. Drawing the blade, Grunt’s eyes disappeared into glossy black voids through which he could make out the vibrations of life energy more clearly. His blood pumping rapidly, he swung at Nox with all of his might but he too proved to be as nimble as his brother.
“By Cortox, I banish you devils!” Moira called out as she charged past Vetnik and Grunt, Starstrike glistening in her hands. She drove the blade as hard as she could into the belly of the Efreeti, and once more piping hot magma began to spill from the wound down upon the blade. Moira stared down the djinn, their eyes intensely meeting as Moira held the blade in place.
“Look out!” Thom called out to Moira. She turned around and watched him rush forward carrying the hammer, Whelm, in both hands. In one fluid movement, Moira yanked Starstrike from Nix’s belly and before the enchanted magma could ebb out and seal his wound shut, Thom brought the Dwarven hammer down upon the ground. Moira leaped behind Thom and watched as the collision between Whelm and the stone ground released a wave of clear energy that immersed the Efreet, bowling them over with such unexpected force that all in the party marveled at it. Nix and Nox cowered, stunned by the shockwave. Moira and the others noticed that Nix’s wound continued to bleed and drip to the ground, sizzling upon contact. Lyssa watched as the firey djinn struggled to compose themselves for a moment, thinking of what to do to further subdue them. Then it hit her: the wand of frost Thom rescued from the lair of the giant crab! She drew the wand, gripping the thin, wooden handle in her hand, and pointed the wand towards the stunned djinn. The air began to cool down and become crisp as the crystal tip of the wand began to swell with glowing vapors of icy silver. Before the Efreet could come to, she released the ray of icy cold and watched it zipped between her companions. As the ray shot through the air, the ground beneath it began to freeze. The ray expanded into a conical shape and blanketed the Efreet in cold, silver light. Just as the cone of cold overcame the Efreet, the floor beneath them erupted in a cluster of large stalagmites of ice that speared their frost-covered bodies.

Grum rushed the second Efreeti, Nox with Lyn and Slå still drawn. He leaped over the line of frozen earth that cut down the center of the chamber using his momentum and his agility, scaled up the side of the wall past Nox, and landed back-to-back with the Efreeti. Like a stinging bee, Grum stabbed at Nox with Lyn without taking the time to turn around. He instead relied on the shriek of the Efreeti to deliver the good news of a successful – and electric – backstab! Grum spun around and just as he was about to let Slå get a turn, he watched as the Efreet exploded into black, smoky gaseous forms. Thom knew that in this form, the Efreet would be a hard and unpredictable target to hit. He began to drum and watched them swirl and torpedo through the party.
“No!” Lyssa grumbled between gritted teeth. As her eyes surged with raging magical intensity, the party could feel a breeze quickly begin to swell behind them. In mere seconds, the breeze turned into a torrent of powerful wind that violently whipped through the chamber down the corridor leading towards the exit. The Efreet’s ethereal forms were no match for the gusts of wind conjured by Lyssa as they struggled to keep themselves together. “RUN!” Lyssa shouted from the back of the party. The party did as was commanded and ran with the winds towards the exit of the mountain. Lyssa manned the back of the party, armed with her wand of frost, and concentrated on keeping the winds swirling in the Gynosphinx’s chamber long enough to keep the Efreet out of suspension. Guided by the winds, the party ran as fast as they could out of the chamber towards the stone spiral staircase, and out of the depths of the mountain.

The party emerged out of White Plume Mountain and was greeted by a clear and sunny afternoon sky. Lyssa’s winds escaped out of the mountain and fluttered into the open air. The party took a moment to pause and catch their own breaths, having narrowly escaped what could have been an excruciating fate. They had survived the seemingly endless and varied threats that had fell so many others before them. Despite this, a sudden sense of dread began to take hold of Thom. His stomach dropped as he looked out into the wide-open world before him. The flatlands covered in dismal moors and tangled thickets began to conjure strange, unformed fears in the usually adventurous bard.
“Thom!” Grum called out to his fear-frozen brother, “Camp’s only a couple miles away. Come on!”
Thom shivered at the thought of going any further, but with his brother staring him down waiting for him, he took a deep, deep breath and slowly walked to meet with the others. Grum patted his brother on the back and could feel the muscles tense up as he did so. “Are you alright, brother?”
“Mmhm,” Thom replied quietly with pursed lips and eyes that darted to the ground below.
“Do you want me to stay back here with you? Grunt can—“
Thom shook his head swiftly, keeping his eyes downwards. Grum suspected something was amiss, but also knew better than to pry where it concerned his brother. He shrugged and rushed back up to the front of the party to meet with Grunt and together the thieves lead the party down the beaten path back towards camp.

The breeze was crisp and cut through the stagnant humidity that clung to them inside the mountain. After a couple hours, they returned to base camp where the hired company of men waited. All horses and equipment were well accounted for and the men were more than eager to help the party to divide their findings between the various chests and sacks brought along. They marveled silently at the strange artifacts the party had in tow, from the elegantly embroidered scabbard that housed Blackrazor to the trident Wave, which seemed to sparkle with a cool blue-violet iridescence when lit by the sun. The party also took mental note of Thom’s disposition; before entering the cave, he had been jovial, entertaining all in the party with song and musings. Now, he seemed shaken and reserved. One of the hired men approached Thom with a small chest inlayed with velvet and down cushion.
“The hammer, sir?”
“I’ll carry it, it’s… I’m fine!” Thom’s hands trembled as he waved the man away briskly. He buried his face into his horse’s side for a moment and channeled an old breathing technique that always did the trick when stricken with such bouts of anxiety. After a few counts of controlled breathing, Thom steeled himself and climbed atop his horse. With their carts filled and the parties all present and accounted for, Grum and Grunt led the caravan down the road to the Cairn Hills back to Alhaster. Thom stayed towards the back of the party with Lyssa and watched as White Plume Mountain shrunk in the distance. It’s mysterious dove-white geyser still shooting into the air as if nothing had happened.

In the first hour en route to Alhaster, Grum spotted a group walking down the road towards them in the distance. As they came into focus, Grum began to make them out. The trio was made up of an old mage in typical mage’s garb of dusty green robes and a floppy hat; a thief of slender build dressed in fitted leather armor; a cleric in airy robes of blue and white with a large, golden holy symbol of some unknown god suspended from an equally garish golden chain; and a knight in shimmering armor decorated with ornate etchings and filigree.
“Hello fellow adventurers!” the fighter called out to Grum as their parties neared each other.
“Hello!” Grum replied with as much fake cheer as he could muster, “looks like you boys are heading to the mountain?”
“Yes! We are fine adventurers on a quest to White Plume Mountain!” he replied with saccharine enthusiasm. Behind him, his company could not help but to chuckle. Still smiling, the fighter quickly waved his hand at his companions behind him, attempting to quiet them. “Yes, as I said we are fine adventurers on a quest to fetch the treasures that lay in wait for us inside the mountain!”
“What treasure?” Vetnik snorted with suspicion.
“Well, whatever treasure we can find in the mountain!”
“Were you hired?” Thom asked.
“No, no, no,” the fighter began, brushing off the notion. “No good sir, we are, um, we come seeking glory and the gold that will surely accompany it!”
The company behind him continued to chortle. The fighter quickly whipped his head around and quietly hissed to his men, “Quiet!”
“What are you all giggling about?” Grum asked.
“Oh, never mind them good sirs and, er, ladies,” the fighter pleaded, “they are but children!”
“Yes, rather rude children,” Vetnik remarked.
“Oh, and who are you?” the thief fired back.
“We should be on our way!” the fighter interjected, trying to usher his men onwards. “Good day to you all then!”
Lyssa chuckled while Grum and Vetnik watched the men carry on past them. “Good day to you! Safe travels,” Trisoll said, warmly waving them goodbye.
“Safe travels to you as well,” the fighter yelled back as he struggled to push his indignant men along with him.
“Say hello to Nix and Nox for us!” Grunt shouted down to them. The fighter nervously waved back before facing forward and bickering with his party.
Trisoll turned to Vetnik and laughed to himself. “Well, they seemed nice!”
“They seemed rather infantile,” Moira pondered.
“Ha. They won’t be that way for too much longer,” Grunt replied in his deadpan way.
“Seems like their going to learn their lesson the hard way,” Thom grumbled from behind. The party looked back and could see him still in strange discomfort. The party calmed themselves and resumed their ride.

The party from Greyhawk ride further towards the Shield Lands until after a couple of hours they see a lifelike human statue off the road. Grum looks at it with his Gem and sees that it’s actually a petrified man. Further down they see a second one, looking in the same direction. Grum leaps off his horse and scouts ahead. He sees a cave in the distance following the eyeline of the cave. He sees a creature exit the cave and makes eye contact with Grum. It is a Basilisk. Grum closes its eyes just in time to avoid its petrifying gaze. The Basilisk runs towards the party. Trisoll attempts to cast a light spell on the beast’s eyes and suddenly a flash of light covers its face. Moira rushes the blinded beast with Starstrike followed by Grunt, who covers his face with his hood and fires off an arrow into its hide. Vetnik stabs at it successfully followed by Grum with an axe and sword. Grum misses with his sword and as he attempts to strike with his axe, he swings and hits Vetnik in the face. Lyssa roasts the beast with burning hands. Thom approaches to burn it for extra measure, but Lyssa stops him and harvests the Basilisk’s gullet. Thom spies the beast’s cave and lets out a visible sigh of relief. He pushes past his brother and runs into the cave where his anxiety suddenly disappears. Inside, he finds 3000 gp strewn about the creature’s cave.

With the flesh golem, now called “Nine” (after the number carved into his patchwork chest) in tow, the company made their way safely across the chamber of golems through an exit that emptied into a dark passageway. At the end of the passage, Grum came upon a small flight of stairs heading upwards. “I’ll scout ahead!” he informed the others. He motioned to his student, Grunt, to accompany him and the pair sneaked up the stairs to a dry corridor. At the end of the corridor stood a rusted metal turnstile. Grum examined it and did his best to turn it, but the metal thing remained unmoved. Grunt stepped up and attempted to turn it, but even he was no match for it. Grum whistled down to the others that it was safe to come up. Vetnik tried his might at turning the metal, but even his strength seemed to be no match. Lyssa, despite her strength now magically matching Vetnik’s own, kept quiet and together they returned back down the stairs.

The party ventured south through another passage, following their pair of scouts through the dark, stone corridor that ended with another door. While observing the door and listening for sounds behind it, Thom noticed something peculiar about its condition. Its wood was old and thick yet covered in small holes that seemed to burrow all the way through. The holes themselves were small though, smaller than keyholes. Grum slid a lockpick into one and slid it out to test the depth.

“Airholes for something?” Grunt muttered beside Grum. While the stealthier of the bunch surveyed the door, Moira concentrated on the area around her and as she honed in on the door, her stomach began to sink.

“There is evil behind that door!”

She turned to Lyssa, who in turn shot her an almost offended glance back. “What? It’s not me!”
“No! Do you recall seeing this place in your visions back in the Magi’s chamber?”
“Oh. No, this doesn’t look familiar to me at all.”
“Whatever you men decide to do,” Moira began, “I will stand beside you. But tread carefully.”
“Gather ‘round. I can conceal us if we stick together.” Thom informed while preparing to intone invisibility. The party did as was asked and the Black brothers opened the door.

“Forward!” Thom commanded Nine. The imposing and terrifying-looking flesh golem lumbered ahead into the impenetrable dark of the room with a unique gait. Inside the room, all the party could see was black, pitch and impenetrable. They watched Nine step into the darkness and watched it swallow him completely. All they could hear was the sound of his mismatched feet dragging against the ground. Lyssa stood by and concentrated on the darkness in the room. Despite her concentration, the magical darkness proved too potent to dispel. Suddenly, the party heard a groan cut through the black.

“Aughhhh,” Nine cried out. The party stood and listened as the flesh golem’s feet staggered and stumbled around in the darkness. Grum quickly lifted his Gem of Seeing that hung like a medallion around his neck and brought it to his eye. Gifted with magical vision, he hastily darted his eye around the room until it finally honed in on a pair of bodies struggling in the black. A thin humanoid was perched atop Nine’s torso and wrapped its feet and hands around the golem’s waist and neck. Grum watched as the spindly feral creature tore into Nine’s throat in search of blood.

“ Vampire,” Grum whispered to the others with a lump in his throat. While his father and mother had only encountered them briefly decades ago in the decaying village of Skorane, this was the first time the party had encountered such a fiend. Grum watched as Nine struggled in vain to release himself from the throws of the bedraggled vampire, who resisted all of Nine’s attempts to yank him away. Instead, the vampire lapped at Nine’s wounded neck in disappointment, spitting up the crude life fluids that flowed through Nine’s veins.

“Hold this,” Grum ordered Grunt, handing him the Gem of Seeing. He quickly drew his bow and set his arrow blaze on Moira’s nearby torch. He motioned to Grunt to hold the Gem to his eye as he drew his bow back and fired off a flaming arrow into the darkness. Through the gem, Grum watched the arrow disappear into the darkness and zip past the pair of undead creatures warring inside. Now visible and vulnerable to the vampire, Grum quickly rushed to pull more arrows.

“Do vampires like fire?” Lyssa asked the others still in the veil of invisibility.
“Not one bit,” Thom replied.
“Good,” Lyssa said as her eyes surged. Balling her hand together she began to conjure a fireball. Without hesitation, Lyssa revealed herself from the veil as she launched a flaming orb into the darkness. Though the fireball was potent, the darkness was still unyielding. She concentrated on the fireball and with tightening of her fist she commanded it to explode inside. There was no fiery glow, but the party could feel the heat from the explosion within the room, followed immediately by the pained hissing of the vampire. As the vampire howled in burning pain, the passageway behind the party began to fill with the faint sound of the tiny, clawed feet. The sound began to escalate though with every hiss the vampire made, its cries summoning something dreadful no doubt. Trisoll turned around and listened intently to the swarm skittering up the rear. With a sniff of his nose and a keen ear, he determined just what was rushing them.

“Rats!” Trisoll cried out over the sound of the approaching vermin stampede, “and it sounds like it’s a lot of them!”
“Well, do something about it!” Vetnik shouted back.
Trisoll closed his eyes and began to concentrate, attempting to tap into the open minds of the creatures dwelling within the mountain. Reaching out into the mental spaces throughout the mountain, he honed in on a family of five large frogs (not unlike his amphibian companion Mugwump!)

While Trisoll dispatched the giant frogs to deal with the stampeding rodent army of the vampire, the vampire began to creep out of the darkness towards Grum, Lyssa, and the others, whose salty scent was all it could make of them. Its taught, pallid skin was covered in patches of bubbling char, but the vampire seemed unphased as it lurched towards the party with hunger in its sunken, milky eyes. The vampire screeched at the party once more before emerging fully from out of the darkness. Thom in turn revealed himself as well, a small glowing ball of fire radiating in his palm. The bard cast the fiery orb from his hand and watched as it zipped between Lyssa and Grum and collided into the vampire’s body. The impact let loose a burst of explosive fire that engulfed the vampire and thrust it back into the darkness. Grunt watched through the Gem of Seeing as the vampire’s flaming body crashed into Nine, immolating both creatures to their true deaths.

“I suppose I’ve been learning from you as well,” Thom said with a smirk to Lyssa, patting her on the shoulder with a warm hand.

The party stood together, visible to each other and any one who might be lurking in the passages of the mountain. They looked into the room, and while no noise could be heard, the darkness that filled the vampire’s chamber remained. The smell of burned flesh lingered through the chamber and leaked out into the hall. Ever curious, Thom looked to Grum’s thin rod and cast a globe of light upon the tip and together the Black brothers lead the party into the dark. They stayed close to each other and together they poked about the room. Grunt was the first to find treasures: while digging around what seemed to be the vampire’s old wooden coffin, he stumbled upon a niche filled with dusty, untouched treasures: a leather sack filled with a pair of potions (one a crystal white liquid with a flash of blue-violet shimmering throughout, the other an opaque acid green color) and an aged paper scroll. While he handed them off to Thom for inspection, Grum joined his charge to inspect the treasures concealed by the coffin. He came upon a pile of six leather sacks, inside which he found thousands of pieces of silver and gold! Grum gathered together the loot while Thom informed the others of Grunt’s findings. The scroll, it turned out, contained a trio of spells: magic mouth, dispel magic, and an advanced spell to conjure monsters. The pair of vials were revealed to be a potion of ESP and, even more rare, a potion of black dragon control. Beneath the pile of leather sacks, Grum found a large and heavy object wrapped in soiled rags. As he unwrapped it, he immediately began to recognize the object and it’s origins. It was indeed a Dwarven hammer, crafted in the most skillful manner. Its finish was patinaed metal with golden details and its weight was most impressive.

“I found something,” Grum announced.
“More gold, brother?” Thom asked.
“Not quite,” Grum replied as he lifted the hammer with two hands into the sphere of light. The inlay gold panels reflected the magical light of Thom’s spell across the others. The details on the hammer were almost too ornate to be Dwarven, but Lyssa stepped forward to dispel any doubts they may have had.
“This is it,” she began, “this is the second object, Whelm!”
As Grum held the hammer in his hands, a strange compulsion began to sink in. He looked to his brother and without word passed the golden hammer over to Thom. “It wants you to have it,” Grum whispered as he handed the hammer over. Thom shot his brother a wary look but took the hammer into his hands all the same. Just as he fired his brother the suspicious glance, Thom became overcome with an almost electromagnetic wave of energy that seemed to bounce from off of him and around the room. He immediately had a mental invoice for all of the riches in the room, from the recently recovered 10,000 pieces of silver and 9,000 pieces of gold to the precious gems found earlier in the pit of Qesnef the Ogre Magi. Thom looked at the hammer in his hand and smiled.

Surrounded by the safety of the dark and unburdened by Whelm, Grum surveyed the rest of the room with the help of his Gem of Seeing. Aside the scattered bones of vermin and men, he found nothing else. Thom burned his invisibility over the party and together they took time to rest and rejuvenate. Grunt took the first hours watch and kept to himself, wondering if he’d hear from the damned Blackrazor blade again. Lyssa took the second watch and used the brief calm to sit and consult the Eye of Modius. Closing her eyes, she sought to know more about the room itself. The orb swelled with glowing green smoke and soon Lyssa was overcome with the history of their vampiric attacker: once called Ctenmiir, the vampire that dwelled here was cursed to wait out his days in a trance, unable to move and feed unless disturbed by intruders. It was only through the curiosity of intruders that Ctenmiir was able to wake from his rotting sleep, and once he finished draining the life force from his victims, he was cursed to return to stasis to continue the cycle anew. Moira, Vetnik, Trisoll, and the Black brothers took their turns after, keeping watch in the safety of the silent chamber. Thom took his watch as an opportunity to catch up on all that he’d seen under the veil of his light spell, documenting all the new and bizarre creatures that not even his father had seen! The silence, however, did not remain as Vetnik took a second lengthier watch. While the others slept and Vetnik himself cleaned his blade, he could hear a commotion in the distance. The low grunts and growls were familiar to him; out beyond the darkness he heard a pair of Bugbears snarling at each other, their heavy feet slowing as they neared the vampire’s chamber. Vetnik gripped his longsword in his hand firmly but waited and listened. He could hear their throaty groans quiet and cautious as they passed the chamber. Vetnik listened as they continued on their way, and while the creatures were known to be simple, they seemed at least smart enough to stay clear of a hungry vampire’s resting place.

Having rested for several hours, the party gathered their things and quickly rushed out of the dark chamber and back towards the center, to the hall of the Gynosphinx. The Gynosphinx barely lifted her head as they made their way out of one passageway down into another. Just twenty feet down the corridor, the company came upon the edge of yet another large pool of water. This water was murkier than the water encountered at the previous pool though. Grum whipped out his bow and fired an arrow down into the water. Seeing the arrow cut through the water without incident, Grum retrieved his pole and began to poke around towards the bottom of the pool. After a couple stabs, Grum noticed that the pole had struck something circular and thick. Grum jerked his pole around and while the object remained motionless, he could tell it was something of substantial substance.

“I suppose I should take a closer look,” Grunt bemoaned as Grum continued to inspect the strange heavy mass caught on the end of his pole. The scout tossed off his cloak, sheathed his weapons and dove in. He proved to be quite the swimmer as he jettisoned to the bottom of the dim pool. As he reached the bottom, Grunt followed the length of Grum’s rod down where it was caught between the spokes of a large, muck-encrusted steel valve. Grunt quickly took hold of the valve and did his best to turn it but the rusted metal proved to be more than he could handle. Grunt quickly shot back to the surface to inform the others and moments later, Grunt resurfaced drawing a hearty breath of air as he emerged.

“There’s a large metal valve down there, I’m not strong enough to turn it,” Grunt relayed as he bobbed in the middle of the pool.
“Don’t dry yourself off just yet,” Thom said as he kneeled down and reached out his hand to Grunt. Grunt took it and just as soon as he did, he could feel a jolt of power surge through the sinewy fibers of his being. His muscles twitched and flexed and he instantly feel a rush of power course through him. “Try it again,” Thom remarked as he stood. Grunt felt the adrenaline pumping through him and quickly dove back down to the valve. “He’s not going to be able to do it on his own. Vetnik, can you…?”
Vetnik shrugged in compliance and quickly removed the bulk of his armor and weaponry. Though not terribly familiar with the sport of swimming, having grown up in a frozen wasteland much of his life, Vetnik put on a brave face and forced himself down into the murky waters to meet Grunt. Grunt, seeing the ice barbarian struggle to stay under, quickly swam up and helped guide him down to the valve. Once there, Grunt and Vetnik hastily took opposite sides of the valve and with all of their combined might, forced the wheel to slowly turn. As the valve ground against the bracket that contained it, Grunt spotted a pipe buried in the wall of the pool. More importantly, with every turn of the valve, the grate on the end of the pipe began to slowly open and drain out the water from the pool. Vetnik gritted his teeth and continued to jerk the valve ‘round, and after several rotations the pipe in the wall was fully open and the water quickly flowed out of the pool into parts unknown. From the dry edge of the pool, Thom and the others watched the water level lower. As the water sunk below Vetnik and Grunt’s heads, the pair gasped for air while rotating the valve with almost mechanical unity. The drainpipe fully opened, the men stepped away from the valve and watched as the silty water flow into the pipe, revealing a muddy open cavern. Thom kneeled at the edge and scanned the pool and the contents therein. At first the pool appeared to be smooth and deliberate but as he scanned,

Thom tossed down a set of ropes and he led the party down into the mire. As he scaled down the slippery walls of the pool, Thom scanned the room and noticed a recessed area in the center of the bottom of the pit: a perfect square in the midst of a crude and jagged floor.

“Grum! Vetnik,” Thom called down, “Check the center of the floor. I think I spy something!”

Vetnik trudged across the sludge-covered floor and with heavy, booted feet he began to kick the mud aside and stomp against the ground. As his boot neared the center, the sound of banging metal echoed throughout the corridor. Thom secured a rope to the edge and leapt across the pool to the other side and secured a second rope. Together on each side the members of the party scaled down the precariously smooth walls.

“Do you think that door was made to let something in,” Grunt began as he crouched at the edge of the pool, “or to keep something out?”
“Sometimes a door that requires the strength of two warriors to open is sealed shut for a reason,” Moira replied standing beside him.

As Vetnik finished revealing the old metal panel at the base of the pit, Grum stepped in to check for traps. Finding neither traps nor locks, Grum carefully opened the panel up, which revealed a dark tunnel with metal rungs hammered into the sides. Grum knelt down and poked hovered his head over the opening. In the bowels of the unlit tunnel, Grum could hear something faint and sporadic. He cautiously lowered his head further down towards the sounds. The muffled sounds seemed to calm. He bent down further into the hole and as his ears passed the entrance, the sharp pitch of screams rang from below!

“AAAAIIIIIIEEEE!!!! AGHHH!!! AGH! AHHHHHHH!”

Grum yanked his head out of the hole and fell backwards into the mud. The screams from below were now louder and more panicked than before. Grum recoiled from the opening, shaken by the sounds that now echoed throughout the corridor.

Thom stopped dead in his tracks and shuddered. “What kind of nightmares are down there?”
“Between whatever is lurking down the rest of the corridor and the nightmare we know is waiting for us down there, I say we head down the rest of the corridor,” Grunt interjected.

As the others climbed down one side and up the other, Thom closed the metal panel in the center of the pit. Taking out a piece of chalk from his art supply satchel, he scrawled across its surface: BEWARE! Thom secured the ropes for their eventual return and together the party continued onward down the corridor that emptied out into a chamber. In the center of the chamber laid yet another pool, one that had drained enough to reveal two paths, a small flight of steps on the far wall, and a deeper pool in the center which oddly clear water. Clear, except for the pile of deep green seaweed that floated at the water’s surface. Grum and Grunt lead the party inside and as the men approached the pool, the cluster of seaweed appeared to move on its own accord. The bundle was pulled under the water but as it resurfaced, a shape seemed to writhe out from underneath it. Grunt watched as the seaweed slipped down the shape and revealed the supple, milky flesh of a nude woman. The seaweed mixed with her jet dark hair as it dripped down her breasts like black veins. Her neck wriggled with serpentine fluidity as she turned to see the men standing at the edge of the pool. While Grum seemed more perplexed by the woman slithering seductively in the center of the pool, Grunt was positively enchanted! Without word he stepped into the pool and began to paddle out towards her.

“Grunt,” the thief called out, “come back here!”

Grunt was deaf to his master’s pleas. Instead, his gaze was fixed on her opalescent eyes as he paddled like an eager dog towards her. She slowly began to drift away from him, drawing him further and further out. As she floated from him, the bundle of seaweed reappeared and made haste towards Grunt. The siren cooed as the tendrils of kelp sprang into action. Like the tentacles of a squid, the seaweed lashed out at Grunt and quickly began to bind his arms, feet, neck, and even began to make their way down his throat.

“Grunt!” Moira called out to her bewitched friend. She rushed up the side of the pool, unsheathed Starstrike, and with all of her might did her best to strike the fiend. Her balance was unsteady though as she stabbed at the creature and she missed. Vetnik drew his blade and rushed towards the pool; before jumping in, Trisoll reached out to Vetnik and placed his hand upon his armored shoulder while uttering a brief prayer to Trithereon.
“The water will be solid to your step,” Trisoll proclaimed! Vetnik patted his friend’s arm as a show of thanks before leaping onto the water. As he landed, Vetnik realized that Trisoll was true to his word. The cavalier dashed across the surface of the water towards the slithering enchantress as if he were gliding across solid stone. Vetnik approached and before stabbing into her, noticed that below the water, the woman had in fact dissolved into squirming seaweed.
“Release him," Vetnik commanded as he stabbed into her! His sword pierced her flesh and the creature let out a gurgled howl. Vetnik withdrew his blade and watched as the wound leaked not red blood, but algae-filled water and saw the cut flesh wriggle into tattered seaweed. This was no ordinary temptress, this was a creature of legend: a kelpie!

Thom unleashed his Kettle of Drumming. He flipped it over and began to bang out a defiant beat that only seemed to anger the kelpie more. In response, she violently pulled Grunt down before the water; the party watched him struggle to reach out and touch the kelpie in vain. As water filled his throat, a second bundle of seaweed emerged from the depths of the pool. Vetnik, still standing on the surface of the water, stepped back as a second kelpie burst forth from the bundle. She fixed her sights on the ice barbarian, but his mettle proved to be ironlike against her sorcery. Vetnik fired back with a devilish grin. “You’ll have to do better than that, witch!”

Grum donned his bow and fired a pair of arrows, but the kelpies proved to be too nimble in the water. Trisoll jumped into the water and swam towards the submerged Grunt. He dove under and grabbed his companion by the shoulder. He mentally recited a second small prayer and suddenly Grunt could feel air return to his lungs despite still being held under water. Trisoll returned to the surface and found himself face to face with a very angry kelpie! The kelpie’s angered cries turned to shrieks of pain as Vetnik cut into her two more times, shredding off more and more pieces of kelp-like sinew. Grum fired off two more arrows in support of Vetnik, but the kelpie dove under the water and disappeared from sight. The second kelpie whipped her head around and focused her charm on Thom. He let his kettle fall to the ground and in his daze rushed towards the creature, diving into the pool and swimming as hard as he could to meet her.

“Oh, enough of this,” Lyssa grumbled. She stepped forward and with a wave of her hand she yanked her dazed friend out of the water with a levitation spell. The force of her spell proved too strong for both the tendrils of seaweed and Thom’s crazed desire to meet a watery end. He struggled and reached out to the kelpie, but the more he struggled, the further away he seemed to float. Trisoll capitalized on the confusion of the kelpie as he called out for Trithereon’s blessing: “Trithereon, hold the demon at bay!” As Trisoll uttered the final word of his prayer, the kelpie’s seaweed tendrils fell back into the water. Her body was frozen in time, with only her watery breath escaping her throat in a muted gurgle of sound.

Vetnik spun around and slashed into the bound kelpie. Her mouth suspended in mid snarl, her ribbons of kelplike flesh and algae-filled blood ebbed into the pool around her. Trisoll swam towards the held kelpie, whipped out his shillelagh and cracked her against the head — which only seemed to summon more furious hissing from the slimy thing. Grum fired off yet another arrow, which zipped past and grazed the beast’s milk-white cheek. While the others launched their simultaneous attack on the remaining kelpie, Grunt could feel his senses come back together. His heart and his head rushing with a mix of adrenaline and anger, Grunt swam towards the remaining kelpie and swung at it with his crudely-spiked club. His anger only served to make his attack sloppy though as he missed her, creating a large splash of water. Lyssa’s lifted her arm straight forward and she began to channel her own frustration into the palm of her hand. Currents of scarlet energy coursed down her arm, gathered into her hand and as the energy pushed beyond the capacity of her control, she released it in the form of five glowing magic missiles. The missiles streaked through the air and collided into the kelpie with explosive efficacy. Like cannonballs into the hull of a battle-ravaged ship, the kelpie’s skin burst into a flurry of water and seaweed with every missile hit. After all five hit their target, all that remained was a steaming pile of green algae that floated and spread across the surface of the water.

Grunt let out a mutter of anger as he hastily reached down to the mysterious black blade hooked to his belt. “You’re hungry, yeah? Let’s get you fed!” Grunt drew Blackrazor from its obsidian-embroided scabbard and as he did so, he could hear the sword yowl in anticipation, “Yessss! Feed me!” While wielding the sword in his hand, he could feel the vibrations of every living being in the room. Only one life mattered to him though: that of his former slaver! “FEED! WE MUST FEED!” Blackrazor cried out inside his head. “FEED! WE HUNGER! WE MUST FEED!” His anger only seemed to fuel the blade’s desire for death. The pearlescent shimmer in Blackrazor flickered and flashed, a physical manifestation of its increasing hunger no doubt. Grunt raced through the water in pursuit of the fleeing kelpie, the voice of Blackrazor almost deafening as he swam. “FEED ME! FEED ME!! FEED MEEE!!!” Before the kelpie could seize him with her seaweed tentacles, Grunt gored the creature with Blackrazor. He buried the blade deep into her belly and he watched as she struggled to pull herself off the blade. Grunt watched as she thrashed and screamed before unraveling into ribbons of seaweed until her body came undone and her remains floated down to the bottom of the pool. The twinkling pearl in Blackrazor slowly began to die down, as did its calls to feast. “Yesss…. Yesss…” While the voice of Blackrazor subsided, Grunt felt revitalized. He lifted Blackrazor to his eye line and watched as the vicious innards of the slain kelpie swirled around the blade and seeped into it. Grunt was puzzled at first, but his attention returned when off in the distance he spotted pieces of gold, a necklace encrusted with emeralds and rubies, and chainmail armor scattered across the floor of an underwater alcove. He swam down, gathered up the riches and quickly raced back to the surface where Vetnik was waiting, crouched on top of the water ready for the scout to resurface.

“Good work,” Vetnik said as he helped the scout out of the water.
“Did you see it,” Grunt asked with unusual vigor. “I killed the soggy bitch!”
Lyssa glared at Grunt with a disapproving glance and looked down to see Blackrazor in his shaky grasp. “If we’re all done here then—“
“Um, not quite!” Thom interjected, still dangling in the air above the pool. With both kelpies slain, his mind was his own again and he was eager to move ahead. “Lyssa, is there some way you can get me over to those steps across the room?” Lyssa stepped down into the side of the pool, glaring at Grunt as she passed him, whipping her cape away from him as to not get it soiled by the newcomer. As she approached, Thom began to float back down towards the pool. Lyssa reached her hand up and placed her hand upon his ankle. Thom felt a warmth stem from his ankle and travel up his leg then into his belly. The bubble of force in his gut that seemed to keep him suspended in the air burst as the warm sensation hit. Thom’s entire body seemed to tingle and suddenly he was overcome with weightlessness. “There. You can fly now,” Lyssa dryly revealed. She released his ankle and sauntered back onto dry land.

“Brilliant!” Thom cheered to himself. He turned to face the steps at the opposite side of the room and took a deep breath before thrusting himself towards the steps. Thom’s stomach bubbled with excitement as he flew above the pool across the room. He ascended over the wet stone steps without touching them until he came to the top of the staircase. Much to his surprise, the smooth slabs of stone blocks emptied into a spinning metal cylinder. Thom drifted towards it and as he approached it he was able to discern more details about the strange, spinning tube. It spun counter clockwise and made little noise, which was strange given the surroundings and its apparent age. The inside of the tube featured alternating spiraling stripes of chipped white and black paint that, despite their age, still had a dizzying effect. Thom gently brushed his fingers upon the inside and wiped away an oily film from the inside. He brought his fingers closer to his face to inspect the substance and beyond the grime clinging to his fingertips, he could smell the overwhelming scent of combustible oil. This made Thom cautious, but his curiosity was piqued nonetheless. Still hovering off the ground, he pushed himself through the spinning tube and slowly drifted through it. He shielded his eyes as best as he could from the whirring spiral. As he flew towards the center of the 10’ long tube, he noticed the flickering of a small flame at the end of it. Before Thom could move any further down the tube, the source of the flame came into focus. It was no mere torch or candle, but a flaming arrow. The archer released the flaming arrow into the tube and though Thom attempted dodge it, he soon realized the archer’s intent was not to pierce but to burn! The arrow zipped past Thom and struck the black-painted inside of the tube and set the line ablaze!

“Ssssss! Aghh!” Encircled by flame, Thom cowered in mid-air and did what he could to shield himself from the searing heat. Steeling himself, he pushed through the center of the tube with a single thrust, he torpedoed through the center of the flame tube and emptied out onto the other side. He tumbled to the ground and as he rose to his feet he spotted a thick wooden door being slammed shut further down the corridor. Thom ran to catch up but it seemed as if it was too late. Thom could hear the metal locks from behind jam into place. He stood back and placed his hand upon the door. In seconds, he was able to force the locks that barred him entry to retract. He kicked through the door with all of his force and drew out his Horn of Fog. Before Thom could press the reed of the horn to his lips, the scraggly guard slashed at him with his longsword Undeterred by the attack, Thom blew into the mouthpiece of his horn with all the breath he could muster and in return, released a thick bank of fog that filled the entirety of the chamber. The rest of the party stood to attention at the sound of Thom’s horn.

“He’s in trouble!” Grum cried out.
“Stay here, we’ll help him!” Vetnik replied.
“Wait!” Trisoll called out before draping his arms over Vetnik, Moira and Grunt in a huddle. “I can get the three of you through the tube.” He bowed his head and pleaded to his holy patron once more: “Trithereon, I beseech thee! Guide my friends, let them walk through the flames!” Trisoll lifted his head and slapped Vetnik and Grunt on their backs, “you’re good now! Don’t he scared, just run right through it!”

Vetnik lead the charge to support Thom as he raced across the surface of the pool; Moira led Grunt up the side of the chamber and together they successfully waded to the staircase where they followed Vetnik into the spiraling tube. The trio of warriors did their best to maintain their balance, wobbling as they rushed through. The flames in the tunnel continued to burn but neither of them seemed fazed. Instead, they emptied out onto the other side and together they unsheathed their swords.

The fog released by Thom’s horn engulfed the attacker’s chamber and the men within. Thom drew his trusted wakashazi blade and, despite his inability to see, honed his other senses with a precision that would have made his mother proud! He carefully stepped through the fog and moved towards the sounds of the guard: the slow scrap of a boot against the floor, the rustle of chainmail, his quivering breath. Thom lifted his blade and slashed through the fog bank and as he did, he heard something thin and metallic fall to the ground and a man cry out, “Snarla, help m—AHHH!” Thom cut the man’s cry short with a second swipe of his blade. Thom stood back and he could see the bloodied body of a guard fall to the ground beside him.
“No! Burket!” a second voice cried out from across the foggy chamber. Just as Thom turned to the sound of the woman’s voice, a trio of glowing violet missiles zipped through the fog and burst as they collided into Thom.
Thom staggered back and watched as the fog began to part to reveal a scantily-clad woman standing in a doorway across from him, one hand smoking from a magic missile spell, the other holding a leather-bound tome. Before the blade could retaliate, his companions poured into the room. Grunt lunged at the sorceress and swiped with his club. Vetnik immediately followed him, slashing her across the torso. The sorceress clutched her bleeding chest and began to recoil as Moira rushed up to attack. Moira pulled her sword from her scabbard but as she went to bring it down upon the sorceress, she noticed a startling change in the woman’s eyes. The lattice of blood vessels burst and drowned her eyes in a deep red hue. The sorceress began to foam at the mouth and as she bore her teeth, Moira could see that they were no longer flat and even but sharp and fanglike. Moira took a step back and watched in a mix of fear and awe as coarse brown hair erupted from the sorceress’ bare flesh. She tore away her silken costume, threw down her tome and let out a deep, guttural howl and revealed a body covered completely in mottled brown fur. From underneath the fur, her flexed into extreme tensions before expanding and bulking up her frame. Moira and the others watched as the sorceress’ very body began to lengthen by way self-breaking bones. The cacophony of bones reshaping and animalistic screaming echoed throughout the chamber. Right before their very eyes, the party witnessed their very first werewolf transformation.

“By Cortox,” Moira cried out as she cut into the large beast! The werewolf yelped as Starstrike opened her flesh.

Before the beast could get its bearings, Vetnik drove his sword into her side. The werewolf let out one last final howl and, while impaled on his blade, Vetnik watched as the werewolf turned to him and began to slowly return to her human form. Before she could return to full humanity, Vetnik yanked his sword out of her side and watched as her misshapen body fell to the ground, her blood pooling out onto what appeared to be a lavishly woven runner.

Thom scooped up the sorceress’ tome and went to go alert the others. “It’s all clear up here!”
Grum lead Lyssa and Trisoll along the side of the pool and together they traversed the steps and spinning corridor to meet with the others. Upon their arrival they were met with a grizzly sight of two slain bodies – only one and a half of them human!
“What happened here? Did you have all the fun without us?” Grum jibed.
“If your idea of fun is dealing with what appeared to be a werewolf,” Vetnik replied as he wiped down his blade before sheathing it.

The party searched the bodies and the chamber they laid in but found nothing of value. Together as a whole, they continued onward, stepping over the half-woman, half-wolf corpse that lay motionless in the door way. Each member of the party had their own reactions, from curious and compassionate to callous. They followed the blood-soaked runner into the next chamber and what they found was a stark contrast to the chamber before. Inside, the room was ornate and delicate, covered in finely woven rugs embroidered with arabesque patterns; erotic tapestries and shimmering covered the walls, while an intricately crafted mosaic of a summer sky and fleecy clouds decorated the ceiling. A large, luxurious bed occupied the northeast corner of the room, its surface covered in pelts, silks, and plush pillows and cushions of every size. Beside it was a buffet of sweetmeats, cakes, and other delicious-looking comestibles. In the corner opposite was an oak chest bound in brass. Grunt pulled up beside the buffet and began to look over the untouched delicacies.
“Careful there, Grunt,” Grum warned as he put his Gem of Seeing to his eye. Through it, the illusion of the room was undone: the room was sparse and dank, just as the other chambers they visited before. The bed so opulently decorated was little more than an old straw tick, and the buffet that Grunt buzzed around was filled not with finery but with meager iron rations. Grunt tossed his the no-longer delicious treat back into the pile and saddled up beside Grum to watch as his master went to work on the chest – the only authentic piece in the room! Grum searched the lock for traps, for which there appeared to be none. The lock itself was surprisingly easy to crack as well. However, just as Grum flung the lid open, the chest itself dissolved into a billowing cloud of unsightly pallid yellow. The cloud itself was thick but not as dense as fog, but its scent was wretched! Grum and Grunt jumped to their face, covered their faces, and together they began to usher the party out of the room away from the stinking cloud. Most of the party seemed to have enough of a tolerance for the scent, except for Trisoll, who buckled under the putrid haze and fell to his knees retching. Vetnik held his breath and carried the nauseated cleric under his arm until all were out of the chamber safely.
“What… what was that?!” Trisoll asked, wiping away bile from his beard.
“Stinking cloud spell,” Lyssa replied. “A useful distraction against those with weaker constitutions.”

Grum looked back into the room and saw that the yellow cloud had nearly evaporated. He and Grunt ducked back inside where, in place of the chest, there laid a pile of treasures: electrum and gold as well as a series of seven precious gemstones! Grum quickly scooped them up before leaving, and together they made their way back down towards the spinning corridor. With the slick oil having all been burned away, they traversed it calmly and without incident. Grum lead them out of the cylinder and they continued down an unexplored passage, away from the kelpie’s pool. Before getting too far, the party was halted by a pair of thick, metal doors. The Black brothers inspected them and found no signs of tampering nor heard any suspicious noises behind them. They appeared to be flanged in such a way though that they overlapped the doorjambs and could only be opened away from them. The brothers pushed them up and lead the party down another 10’ feet until they were stopped by a similar pair of large metal doors. The brothers repeated their door-opening procedure and were met with the same inactivity. They threw them open and continued onwards for another 10’ feet and came upon, much to their chagrin, two more metal doors. Grum sighed as he checked for traps once more. Just as the procession of metal doors was beginning to feel tedious, Thom put his finger to his lips (a sign to his brother to silence his unsubtle groaning.) Behind it, he could hear the distant echo of burbling water. He motioned to his brother and the others to keep quiet and to take position. Grunt swiftly moved up beside his master while Thom stepped away and allowed them to push the door open.

The thieves opened the door and clung to the sides of the corridor, cloaking themselves in the shadows. What the found was more bizarre than they could have ever imagine. The path led into a sunken stone ledge that projected over a lake of boiling hot water filled with red-hot rocks. They watched the water boil and bubble up from below and flow alongside them. Their eyes followed the bubbles upwards above their heads where they saw even more water suspended in midair. The pair could feel the heat emanating from the walls of water and were careful to avoid coming into contact. Neither thief could have ever fathomed the strangeness they were bearing witness to. Grum signaled down to the others to enter as he and Grunt continued to slink down the sides of the path. Trisoll marveled at strange water walls bubbling beside him. He gently reached out his hand, pressed it against the walls and immediately he felt the intense warmth from behind it. Stranger still, the water walls were bound by some strange, clear film that felt thin to the touch. Dangerously thin.

Grum and Grunt followed the path and about 30’ feet down, saw it empty into a dome surrounded by the boiling water walls. In the center was an alien structure, what appeared to be a mountain of smoothed, speckled rust-colored rock. The thieves slowly approached slowly approached dome but as they closed in on it, Grunt suddenly began to feel shaky and groggy. Wincing his eyes as he stepped, he failed to notice the small pile of rocks in his path. As he kicked into them, a few of the rocks tumbled down the path into the dome. The men froze in place and waited for any sign of disturbance. As the rocks crashed against the base of the strange mountain, the party could feel the earth beneath them begin to tremble.
“Oh no,” Lyssa muttered, remembering the vision she had previously.
Grunt’s eyes widened and watched as the slab slowly began to rise up off the ground to reveal a bed of bones followed by series of spindly, armored legs. Wiry antennae and eyestalks stood erect as a pair of large, armored claws (one of which bore a bracelet of hammered copper) slowly stretched out the width of the dome and pushed the rest of its body up off the ground. The mountain was no mountain, but the carapace of a gargantuan crab!
”Shame I didn’t have the foresight to bring a brick of butter!” Thom joked as he drew his weapon.
“I believe it should go without saying, but no fireballs!” Trisoll yelled.

Its size notwithstanding, the crab appeared to move nimbly and with purpose. It was careful to avoid to the thin membrane of the dome keeping the boiling water at bay as it charged towards the party. Grum reached around to the back of his belt and unsheathed his pair of twin daggers, Lyn and Slå. He charged at the crab and with two strikes to its arm segments. Grunt marveled at not only Grum’s skill, but the weapons themselves (which he had yet to see in action!) With every piercing blow, the blade let loose sparks of electric energy. To Grunt, it looked as if Grum was wielding small lightning bolts in his hand! Knowing the importance of precision, Lyssa raised her hand and cast a series of glowing red magic missiles that flew down into the cavern and exploded upon contact. Vetnik charged down the path with his longsword drawn and swung at the crab, chopping at its legs. Trisoll stepped forward with closed eyes and hands raised, whispering a plea to Trithereon. The others watched as the air around him seemed bend and swirl between his hands, like gathering mists of luminous vapor. Trisoll opened his eyes, now glowing white with power, and as he did the mists between his hands snapped and formed into the shape of a ghostly hammer. He turned his palms out and directed the hammer towards the crab, where it crashed against its face. Instead of charging at the crab, however, Grunt had a different gamble in mind.
“Oi! Crab!” Grunt shouted as he drew Blackrazor, the blade hissing in his head as he did so. “Take another step and I tear this wall open!”
Moira’s eyes widened with shock. “NO!" She drew her longsword and rushed the giant crustacean, slicing it across the creature’s underside. The crab ignored the strike by the paladin and scuttled towards Grunt. With one claw he swiped at the scout, but missed; with its second attempt, the crab grabbed at Grunt with its pincher and flung him away from the wall. Thom knew drastic measures now needed to be taken. He rubbed his hands together and concentrated on their speed and after a few rubs he clapped them together and released a wave of energy that all in the party could feel but not see. The party stared down the crab, the pupils of their eyes sparkling with magical haste.

“In Trithereon’s name, I bless thee!” Trisoll cried out, casting a blessing over the party.
Grunt once more felt the surge of hunger when wielding Blackrazor, but the haste spell cast upon him sent his adrenaline into overdrive. He swung the black blade wildly at the crab, but the crab proved too nimble for even Blackrazor’s hunger. Vetnik continued to chop and slice into the crab with an unprecedented frenzy. As Vetnik prepared to delivered a forth blow to the crab, Thom pulled him out of the way and together they watched as the crab stumbled and collapsed to the ground in defeat. Vetnik tossed his sword to the ground and did his best to calm himself.
“For a moment there, I thought you might end up hacking at the walls in here!” Thom jeered. Vetnik let out a light chuckle while trying to catch his breath. Grum and Grunt sheathed their blades and ran down to the clearing, where buried in the bones of adventurers past, they saw a gleaming trident of bronze lying amongst the human rubble. Grunt lifted the trident out of the waste while Grum raided the chest for its contents: sacks of gold and precious gems, a ring, a wand, and a large polished garnet. As Grunt inspected the trident, Wave, another voice began to echo in his mind:
“Are you my champion?”
“Oh, great.”

WORK IN PROGRESS…

In the chamber of the dead ghouls, they find a staircase leading further. Thom casts identify and finds the enchantment is specific to a ghoul and was cast on these amulets. The amulets themselves are crude in their make, crafted with slagged metal and rotted leather.

Thom takes a moment to empty himself of metal except for a dagger, placed in his deeppockets spell. He takes a leather bag and keeps a second dagger inside. Dressed in only his small cloak and undergarments, he dashes down the path with the leather sack dangling from his hand. As he dashes through, he feels mild discomfort. 50 ft down the hall, the dagger burns through the leather sack and falls to the ground. Its blade is red hot. He finishes his run and finishes unscathed. He watches the dagger glow and bake. He reaches into his deeppocket and as his hand passes through, he feels no heat from the dagger. He pulls it out and tests its temperature, finds it cool to the touch. He puts the dagger back inside and dashes back to his company, dodging the searingly hot dagger in his path.

He returns to the party, redresses and advises, “Let’s go forward!” They follow Grum and Grunt down the staircase. At the base of the stairs is another door. Thom listens in an hears nothing. Grum finds the door untrapped and unlocked. Grum creaks it open and finds a room, ceilings 17feet high. Inside are two pits horizontal pits. Grum peers down and finds the first filled with rusted, edged metal. Grum lets them know about the pits.

“There doesn’t appear to be any other sort of trap?” Mo
“Doesn’t appear to be.”

At the far end Lyssa believes she’s a door at the far north wall, beyond the second pit.

“Of course there is.” Gr

Grum looks around for something to throw and Lyssa offers him up a ghoul’s amulet. He throws it across the pit and as it soon as it lands on the floor across, they watch as the amulet skitters off down into the second pit.

“Maybe the floor is frictionless?” Grunt notes.

Lyssa attempts to cast fly on herself but is unable to cast. Her power doesn’t feel dampened, but rather, something else seemed to cancel it.

“Perhaps Moira and I could toss one of you across the room?” Vetnik semi-jokingly ponders.

Grum bundles up his rope and tosses it across with all his might. As it reaches the other side, it appears to pass through the wall. He pulls it back to their side and looks perplexed.

“What it you tie the rope off to one of your arrows?”

Grum does as suggested and shoots. His first attempt barely makes it across the first pit. The second zips through the illusionary wall across the pits and seems to hit something on the other side. The arrow falls and the party discuss what to do.

Lyssa takes out her longbow, takes Grum’s rope arrow and without word, fires off the arrow a third time. It zips through the wall and after a second, the arrow seems to stick. Lyssa sheathes her longbow.

Thom spider crawls across the wall and slinks over the pits. On the other side, he passes his hand through the wall. He finds the walls equally frictionless. Vetnik throws his spear up into the ceiling and the weapon bounces off.

Vetnik offers his shield in an attempt to surf the space between the pits. Grum steps in, citing his superior agility. They tie a second rope to the shield. He leaps and catches the shield and lands with a rocky launch. He leaps off as he reaches the edge of the second pit and sticks his landing. As he walks to the edge of the illusionary wall, he puts himself through it, face first. He only sees the real end of the hall and Lyssa’s arrow. Moira launches the rope across and Grum ties it off. Trisoll, Moira, and Vetnik make it across with ease. Grunt struggles to make it across the rope but he manages nonetheless. Thom and Lyssa follow, traversing it with ease.

Thom and Grum finds no traps or noise behind the door. It is unlocked. Grum tips it open and inside he finds another hallway that splits in two opposite directions. The head North and find a door down 30ft. Thom hears the sound of running water behind it. The door is also untrapped and unlocked. Grum leads them inside and sees a stream coursing through the room, suspended in mid air. There is a row of 6 cayaks against the wall without paddles. Lyssa pierces the water with a dagger and watches as only a couple drops fall through. She watches and marvels at the cavefish swimming through the current. Thom steps over and attempts to catch a fish but misses.

“What do we think?” Th

Moira shares Grunt lack of enthusiasm, while Trisoll is dazzled by it.

“Perhaps we should avoid the magical body of water.” Mo
“The fact that this is even being considered as an option!” Grunt

The party decides to double back to the Southern pass. Down 60ft there’s a door. Thom hears a mélange of faint noises. No voices, just strange, curious noises. Grum checks for traps and a lock and

“Do you we want to go inside?” Th
“It’s this or the river of no return.”

Thom leads them inside and finds a terraced room, steps leading down into a chamber. Each step is made of a glass-enclosed cages filled with strange, terrifying creatures. Giant crayfish, sea lions, giant scorpions, and winged-clipped Manticores. As soon they enter, the room starts buzzing with the sounds of hunger. The Manticores’ tails thrash but their tail spikes are out of range. Grum looks through his Wizard Eye and finds that everything is real.

“I should have taken my chances at the river of no return!” Grunt

“Inverted ziggeraut. The steps… Blackrazor may be here!” Lys
Thom stands on his hands to see if the room changes in any capacity. Thom looks down and sees a door in the Manticore pit.

The party banter back and forth about what to do when Lyssa brazenly steps forward and conjures a flame arrow. Only a single Manticore fires a tail spine and shoots one off. It shoots forward and hits Lyssa, but as it does, it breaks against her stone hard skin. Lyssa responds by conjuring a flame arrow above her attacker and raining it down on him. It howls in pain but continues standing its ground.

“Get back, Lyssa!” Thom cries out before sending a Fireball down into the pit.

Vetnik launches a spear with a rope tied to the ceiling above the Manticores and it sticks. Trisoll blesses the party while Grum fires off a couple arrows that stick into them. Lyssa rains down a series of minute meteors. Grunt dodges the first spine but the second Manticore sends a series of them flying into Grunt. Moira cries out and rushes over and lays hands upon him, yanking the spines out as she prays. Grum isn’t quick enough to dodge three spikes from a third Manticore.

“Owww!” Grum yelps.

Thom tosses a fireball down into the pit and while it explodes, it does so modestly. The first and second Manticore are immolated immediately. The third one remains, shaking off the fire.

Feeling renewed by Moira’s blessed touch, Grunt stands and fires off two arrows at the last standing Manticore. The first misses but the second lands deep into the beast. Thom follows suit with his longbow and fires two arrows, only the first hits. The Manticore falls to the ground in a vain attempt to pull out the arrow. Manticore whips its tail violently and flings a series of barbs at Vetnik, all of which bounce off of his armor. Grum fires off with his bow and it tears through its belly, felling it.

Thom and Grunt climb up the walls up to the first rope. Together they set up a quick-and-dirty pully system. As Thom goes to climb back, he slips and he falls into the sea lion pit. They immediately shoot through the water and charge at Thom.

“Stop them!” Vetnik urges Trisoll.
“I don’t know if I can!” he replies while trying to cast Hold Animal.

Grum leaps towards the Sea Lion pit. He dives into the water, past the Crayfish and Scorpions. He paddles up beside his brother. Looking from above, Grunt attempts to swing the ropes to Thom. He manages it and the brothers grab on just as Grunt jumps from the ceiling, using his weight to pull the bar up and out of the Sea Lion pit.

All in the base of the pit, the perform DOP on the single door in the pit. Thom hears nothing; Grum however finds the door trapped to the nines.

“I’m glad we took so much effort to get down here.” Grunt says, massaging his once wounded leg.
“I mean, it wasn’t like there was a pack of Manticores guarding it.” Grum jokes back. He leans in and expertly disarms the door. He finds it connected to a vibration device that would’ve surely shattered the glass caging the creatures. Thom spots a safe and Grum verifies its validity. Grum finds the chest trapped as well. In his attempt to remove, he finds it was also a vibration device. Grum pops it open and finds 6000sp and a piece of jewlelry. Despite not knowing its history, the brothers know a valuable piece when they see it.

The door opens into a hallway beneath the ziggurat and stops at another door. Behind it, Thom hears the sound of a hitch pitched voice screaming in the distance, like a small boy’s voice. Grum pops the door open and they find a luxurious room, a floor strewn with carpets and a hookah. A small cage with a caged, fat Halfling sits in the corner.

“Help! I’ve been imprisoned.”
“What’s with the hookah?”
“I don’t know.”
“What is this room?”
“His lair!”

Lyssa whips out her projectile dagger as the Halfling breaks through the cage, turning into an Orge Magi. She immediately shoots the Magi in the thigh, the blade tearing through its flesh and crippling him. The Magi screams out and falls to the carpeted ground. He rubs a ring on his hand with bloody hands and summons a series of Mirror Images.

Moira swings at the Mirrors but misses. Thom drums for bonus; Vetnik swings by misses. Grunt swings at the Magi by the cage and slashes at it with a short sword but misses. Trisoll’s eyes go white as he floods the room with wasps out of nowhere. They engulf the room and swarm the Mirror Images of the Magi. Grum whips out his Gem of Seeing and points out the real Magi.

Vetnik swings at the Magi twice with fury and his slays the Magi. Thom and Lyssa raid his corpse together. He finds two rings, a +3 ring of protection and a Ring of Mirror Images. Grum checks for traps before he and Grunt sack the room. Moira stands watch.
“We are looking for artifacts. Us sacking the room is a necessity.” Vet to Mo
“Guys, I think I found something.” Trisoll says, leading them to a king’s ransom of treasure as well as a black obsidian blade.

“This must be Blackrazor.” Lyssa remarks.
“Wizard, come claim me!” The sword cries out to her. She steps forward but Thom tugs her aside.

Thom recognizes the scale mail as a cursed item: Armor of Vulnerability.

Lyssa looks into the Eye and gets a vision of the Magi, taking guard, muttering about losing a bet about having to guard the treasure for 1001 years. Lyssa concentrates, trying to reveal to her what awaits them at the end of the river. Lyssa soons finds herself assaulted by a flood of images: platforms suspended by chains; a giant crab; a nude woman with seaweed for legs. Lyssa recites her visions as she experiences them. She finally discerns more details about Blackrazor: it eats positive life energy.

Grum suggests the go through the Sphinx’s chamber again, but knowing it will require Lyssa to teleport their armor across. They wait as they recharge spells and head out.

They all scale out of the ziggurat with ease. Across the frictionless room, they begin to cross. Grunt slips and almost falls but just as soon grabs the rope, his toes scratching at the frictionless floor. Lyssa attempts to cross but slips and falls before crossing the first pit, falling back.

One the way back, they come upon the the Gynosphix still sitting in the middle.

“Oh. Hello.”
“Oh, hello!” Grum replies.

The go through the hall NE and encounter a green slime. “Use fire!” Moira cries out. Trisoll responds by producing flame, surrounding the slime in fire. The slime returns the attack by almost enveloping him, but he misses. Grunt lights his club on fire with his torch and he swings at it, but misses. Lyssa manipulates the fire from his club to leap and attack using a fireflow spell. Grum spends his turn making a torch from a tear of a fabric. Vetnik thrusts his torch into the slime and singes it. Moira attempts to do the same and burns it as well! Thom casts Burning Hands over the slime and beats it back. The slime lashes out thrusts it gelatinous body at Thom but falls short. Grunt tries to club the slime but misses again. Thom unleashes a second round of Burning Hands and causes it to retreat after being immolated.

70ft down is another door. No noise, no traps, no locks. Inside are five flesh golems lining each wall, each carved with a number in its chest.

“Nine!” Thom cries out.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Vetnik has another run in with the exotic and bawdy Aris. At a date, she gives him guff about being too stuffy.

“Every time I see you, you’re in armor.”
“I’m nobility, I have to carry myself as such in public.”
“Oh? Barbarians have nobles, do they?”
“Well, I’m no mere peasant.”
“I can tell you’re an educated man. Not great with the fairer sex though.”

“What are we up to tonight?”
“I am sure you have something fun planned?”
“Leave it to me? Fine.”

Aris takes Vetnik to the bathhouse and she rents a private chamber. He bathes her, washing away her violet tribal markings. In the middle of their bathing.

“We awaken every day without knowing if another one will come tomorrow.”

She takes him to the House of Comfort and asks him to select a playmate as a dare. The pair take their pick of a lady and have their share of her.

Upon leaving the House of Comfort, Vetnik and Aris run into Moira. Moira is clearly stunned by the pair of them. Aris, seeing the tension, decides to exploit it by clinging and fawning over Vetnik. Moira excuses herself and heads back home.

“Wait, she looks a lot like the slag!”
“Who?”
“The blonde, the night we met. Tall, blonde, busty, like your paladin friend.”
“I suppose, I mean—“
“Ew, you have a type!”

Later in the week, the crew meet together at Pimpleton Manor for the first time together since Moira’s return. Upon her return, the party finds out that Norrin adores her but she keeps him at a distance. She seems moved, having dealt with even more death.

“Why do they choose the sword?” Moira laments.

At Pimpleton Manor, three pieces of mail arrive. One for Thom (a musical composition, an ode to him from Tabys Minwin). The second is for Vetnik from Isrygrad, with info about Lyn and Slå. He reveals that the words are ancient for “Lightning” and “Strike”. They were born in a lightning storm, and so it will take that to renew their power. He closes it with “Your mother, Teela, misses you and your letters are great comfort for her.”

The third arrives separately and is a copy of a letter sent from an unnamed benefactor who has tasked Zemilay’s heroes with a charge. Zem gets a copy of the letter that reads:

“Search ye far or search ye near
You’ll find no trace of the three
Unless you follow instructions clear
For the weapons abide with me.

North past forest, farm and furrow
You must go to the feathered mound
Then down away from the sun you’ll borrow
Forget life, forget light, forget sound.

To rescue Wave, you must do battle
With the beast in the Boiling Bubble
Cost cavern vast, where chain links rattle
Lies Whelm, past water-spouts double.

Blackrazor yet remains to be won
Underneath inverted Ziggurat.
That garnered, think not that you’re done
For now you’ll find you are caught

I care not, former owner brave
What heroes you seek to hire
Though mighty, I’ll make each one my slave
Or send him to the life.”

Signed with the symbol of Keraptis: a sigil featuring a single letter K encircled in snakes.

The collectors whose items have been stolen have spared considerable expense on deciphering the letter. They discern the “feathered mound” is the White Plume Mountains in the Shield Lands. The party decide to sail the Nyr Dyv to the Shield Lands, once the site of a huge battle their parents were embroiled with.

Lyssa visits the church of Cortox and is greeted by an acolyte — the same she charmed before. She is immediately granted audience however.

They take a vessel from Greyhawk to Alhaster in the Shield Lands across the Nyr Dyv. Alhaster is an orderly, well kept port town. Lyssa is visibly upset by the travel, having never traveled by water before, she experiences onset symptoms of sea-sickness. Upon leaving the Selitan River, they find a large grouping of sea weed that they have to avoid. The trip otherwise is uneventful.

After two weeks on water, they pull into Alahaster. They find out that White Plume Mountain is three days travel. The party + four hired men ride to the Mountain. They see the volcanic hill jutting up from the horizon, seeing the white geyser continuosly being spit up from the top of the mountain.

On the first day to the mountain, they come across a clean shaven man wandering down the path away from the mountain. As they ride by, he waves his hand. Thom waves back. “Beware the mountain!” he calls back.
“Cryptic, much?” Grunt replies under his breath.
“It’s always your choice.” The man responds.
“Yeah, this guy gets it!” Trisoll replies.
Lyssa cracks wise about to Trisoll about the traveler being Trithereon. The man looks back at Trisoll and his eyes widen. The man wanders away and Trisoll is pensive the rest of the ride.

They rest and wake at the foot of the mountain. Grum and Grunt take the leads and check out ahead. They scout the base of the mountain and at the south slope they find a “breathing cave”. They find a trap door and descend a spiral staircase downwards into the earth.

They come upon an aged Gynosphinx much to their surprise as none in the party have ever seen one in the flesh before. Thom offers up Lyssa to answer the creature’s riddle. When it is asked, Grum is actually the one to answer from the back, despite being ready to shoot off an arrow if things go awry. The Gynosphinx allows them to pass into another corridor. They enter and find a 10ft gap filled with water. Still invisible, Thom swims under to investigate and finds nothing. He and the others successfully leap across the drake, except for Moira and Grunt. Seeing Moira sink in her armor, Grunt goes to her and the two wrap around each other until Thom throws a rope out to them. They make it back up safely.

They come upon another corridor, this one filled with copper plates lining the wall. Grum goes first and as he passes, he feels the metal he’s equipped with heat up every 10 feet. He backs off and allows Thom to investigate. He strips himself of his metal weapons and armor and finds no ill effect. He goes back, retrieves an arrow, and walks the path again and finds the arrowhead gets red-hot at the end of the path. Together they try to figure out a way to get across. Lyssa offers up a solution: imbued with super-strength (as strong as Vetnik), she offers to take the crew’s metal in sacks and teleport across the hall via a dimension door. The crew disarms and disrobes, fills Lyssa’s sacks, and she hoists the bags onto her shoulders and before their eyes creates a small rift through which they are able to see themselves in the distance. Less steps through and disappears, reappearing on the other side. The others race down the copper-plated hall and quickly redress themselves.

On the opposite side, they find a staircase. Grum detects a secret door on the SE corner. Thom hears the faint sound of noise behind, shambling against cement. Grum finds no traps nor that the door is locked. Before opening the door, Grunt asks what could be behind the door. “Wait, what’s behind there? Why are we going towards it?”
“Could be Shamblers?” Thom remarks. “The undead?”
Grum pulls Grunt aside and the pair hide in shadows together. Thom opens the door and Vetnik sees a group of ghouls. Trisoll and Moira step forward and call upon their gods to turn the undead. The party notice that the medallions around their neck glows and they are unaffected. The ghouls turn around and begin to advance. Grunt leaps out and attempts to club a ghoul; he swings and just barely misses. Lyssa calls out to Grunt to move and releases a wave of chaos magic. She kills four with a wave of scarlet energy but as the energy dissipates, she falls to the ground asleep. Vetnik rushes over her and kills a fifth ghoul. Grum swings his axe and his longsword but misses with both. A ghoul reaches out to Vetnik but he yanks himself out of harm’s way. A second reaches out and grabs at Moira and rakes her with his claws, slashing between her breast plate and stomach plate, tearing through her flesh and spilling blood down her stomach. She collapses to the ground and is paralyzed by ghoul’s paralyzing touch. Grunt looks panicked at the sight of his fallen friend. The third ghoul slashes at Grum but misses. Thom stays back and drums up some energy. Trisoll rushes up and does his best to heal Moira but only manages to stop the bleeding.

Grunt strikes out to defend his fallen friend with his club but misses. Vetnik slashes at two opposing ghouls and fells the both of them. Thom breaks his invisibility, draws his katana and wakashazi blade and charges at the last ghoul, cutting its arm off and felling it as well. Moira begins to come to after a couple minutes, wincing in pain from the still-open gash. They wait until Lyssa wakes up in a chamber littered with the dead. Thom takes their necklaces. Lyssa helps him pocket them.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Over the course of the month, all in the party study dutifully from their manuals. Even the stranger, now known as Grunt, has a desire to train, and is taken out by Zemilay and Grum into nature to study the ways of the scout.

Moira goes with a cache of lesser paladins and squires (including Norrin) on a holy mission.

Trisoll spends the month with his mother and father. In private, he reveals to them that he was a terrified little boy lucky to have come back from death. He wasn’t ready to perish. He’s happy that they’re a family again. He also spends time with Burbis, his friend since childhood.

Lyssa splits her month between training with Thom and using the long bow and working with Ebeviria to craft a new spell in addition to learning pre-existing ones from her mistress’ tome. Lyssa accepts a boon in favor of learning how to channel her chaos magic in a wave but the task has yet to be revealed to her.

Vetting spends much of his month between Pimpleton Manor and courting a new intrigue: the assertive warrior Aris.

After a couple weeks, Thom gets a lead on his thieving clone. He rolls up invisibly and grabs him.

“Oh no!” he cries, the glamor falling from his face.
Thom tries to charm him but finds that the thief is a full-blooded elf.
“Why did you use my face?”
“I swear, I didn’t know it was your face I was wearing!”
“How did you come about it then? Elaborate disguise? Magic?”
“I can’t divulge… it was magic, but—“
“Who are you?”
“It was for me, but… I’m a member of the thieves’ guild. I have a quota to make!”
“If you want me to keep my mouth shut, you keep yours shut. I want you back here in a couple hours.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“If you don’t return, I will kill you.”
The elf furrows his brow. “Hm. Very well then.”
“Two hours.”

The pair return, Thom with Grunt and Grum in tow.
“Two hours, I’m here to listen.”
Grum steps forward and explains what’s happening between him, Thuman, and the Red Nails. “There’s a plot to unseat Nystra.”
“Really?!”
‘How do you feel about that?”
“I mean… I wouldn’t oppose —“
“To the guild or change in general.”
“The guild’s been good to me, but change can be good too. Red Nails though, they’re feisty buggers.”
“Protect Thurman and you won’t be turned in, and you’ll be taken care of. At worst, you’ll know when to leave Greyhawk.”
“Throw in some coin, and I can make this deal a lot sweeter for all of us.”
“You wanna know how I got your face? I contacted the Red Nails. A red-headed lass, Magaria, their leader. She cast it for me, and I’m guessing she didn’t choose your face by accident. Seems to me like she’s trying to draw out some tension.”
Thom tips him. “Stick with the Brothers Black.”
“Alright. I’ll be in touch.”

Thurman contacts Grum, letting him knows its finally time to confront Nystra and that he needs him at his side as a show of solidarity. “Things could get ugly.” Grum takes Grunt to the Guild to meet with Thurman and his confidants. They enter the great hall, and see Nystra seated on her throne flanked by five of the Red Nails. Thurman stands and accuses Nystra for embezzling, to which the guild reacts viciously.
“Order! How dare you make such accusations!”
“Your leadership is weak. You allowed this skinny guard inside the guild, to search for what? Now we’re supposed to live under the thumb of the City Mayor Cragin?
“I will not tolerate this insubordinance! Nails, remove these men!”
Thurman snaps and men stand to defy Nystra and the Red Nails.

Grum shouts out the Asteria, “Do your worst, quim!”

Thurman’s allies take the first hit and lash out at Nystra’s audience. In the first wave of violence, lots of Nystra’s followers find themselves on the sharp end of the sword. The hooded scout lunges at Grum with her longsword and slashes his arm (-5). Grum retaliates with a double hit of the axe and sword; he misses with the axe but catches her with his sword. Thurman steps forward and kicks over into a rolling spin, vaulting himself into Nystra’s throne area. He pulls out a pair of daggers but she is nimble enough to dodge him. Nester’s loyal strike back and begin to cut down Thurman’s army. Nystra turns her tail to run. Grum coats Grunt into his first battle, where misses with his first attack with a short sword.

The Red Nails charge forward. Magaria creates an illusion of a band playing in the rafters above. The green robes scout attempts to strike at Grum with her longsword but he back steps quickly enough. Thurman lunges at Nystra and attempts to subdue her and sticks her with his venomous dagger.
“I paid a lot of money for this venom, Nystra!”
As Nystra cries out in pain, Marit slides up behind Nystra and sticks her in the back with her own dagger. “You better have that evidence, Thurman!”
“Don’t worry, I have your gold too.”
“Marit, why!”
“I know the truth, Nystra.”
Thurman leaves to go work on the locked door to her personal chambers.
Nystra’s loyalists moral falls and they succumb to Thuman’s men’s blades. Grunt swings at a random loyalist with his short sword and fails to stick again. Nystra, in her agony, slips a ring on her finger and disappears from sight.
“Thurman, she’s gone!”
“Marit, if that venom is worth the coin we paid for it, it shouldn’t matter. She won’t get far.”
Grum hacks at the scout with his axe. “Mercy!” she cries out, throwing her sword aside. Grum points his blade at her throat and keeps her subdued.

Thurman breaks into Nystra’s chamber. Rifling through her files, he charges back out hoisting the evidence into the air. “I have the proof! Behold, Nystra did not care for you but for herself!”
the crowd stops fighting and immediately grants him attention.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

From a thicket of green shrubs resting at the edge of the Cairn Hills, the party of adventurers (plus a tagalong stranger cloaked in leather armor and a threadbare green cloak) emerged. Looking down the hill, they could see the main road, and farther down, the iron gates of Greyhawk. The late morning trip from Favilla’s enchanted briar felt as if it took only a moment, but as they exited they noticed evening was well on its way, its violet clouds streaking across the clear, dimming sky. They pulled their horses through and made haste towards the city gates. Vetnik charged ahead with the Eye of Null still in his possession as to keep distance between it and the magic users of the party (more specifically Lyssa.) Grum lead the others behind; the stranger awkwardly held tight around Moira’s waist as they rode together towards Greyhawk.

As he passed through the old iron gates, the stranger was mum. Slowing her pace, Moira looked back and saw her new companion taking in the sights of the city with a hindered expression, almost as if keeping at bay a mix of awe and fear. He observed that, even as the sun fell, Greyhawk thrived. Lantern lighters filled the streets and tended to the rows of lamps that weaved through the city as the windows of taverns, inns, and after-hours shops lit up and erupted with all manner of human life.

“Weapons have to be registered by the city guard,” Moira began to inform her companion, “at the Grand Citadel.”
The stranger looked down at his crudely-made club. He was silent, but Moira could tell he was becoming uneasy. “Do not worry. If there are any fees for registering them, I am more than happy to take those on,” she said with a reassuring smile. The stranger looked up and tightened his mouth as if to keep from smiling.

Vetnik waited for the others near Woodley Fountain. He watched them trot in through the Highway Gate and watched as Moira and the stranger broke off from the others to head into the Grand Citadel. As they closed in on Vetnik, Lyssa suddenly hopped down from her horse and handed the reigns over to Trisoll.

“I… I have to return home!”
“If there’s any one who should be present for the delivery of the Eye, it should be you,” Trisoll urged, confused while taking the horse up beside him.
“Of course, but I—“
“We can also wait. I mean, I could use a shower!”
“Yes, then I’ll meet you at Pimpleton Manor!”
“What’s so important?” Thom asked.
“My mother’s… she’s waiting for me!” Lyssa revealed as she began inching away.
“By all means then,” Trisoll replied, “let us not hold you any longer.”
The party watched her racewalk back towards her apartment. Trisoll took careful notice of her peculiar disposition, but wasn’t opposed to getting in some rest and relaxation before having to face the higher ups at the University of Magic.

With an hour to spare before delivery of the anti-magic orb, the party decided to break away from each other to get in some more personal pursuits. Grum rode off and headed to the the Great Hall of the Thieves’ Guild, while his brother Thom broke away and rode to the Guild Halls. While the twins took their leaves, Moira and the stranger emerged from the Grand Citadel and quickly met with Vetnik and Trisoll at the fountain.

---

Meanwhile, Vetnik has the eye and takes it back to Pimpleton Manor. “Come with me?” to Trisoll.
“I’m actually gonna go talk to Lyssa.”
“Good luck, my friend! haha.”
“No, it’s not like that.”

“I am duty bound to tell the Cortox of Morrigan’s demise. I should have been able to show her the truth.”
Stranger tells Vetnik. “You have a manor?”
“It’s where we stay. I’ll tell you a story.” He says to the apprehensive stranger.
“Vetnik is the finest of men, he’ll take care of you” Moira says calming the stranger. “You’re truly with friends.”

“It’s not my manor, but owned by our parents.”
“Huh.”
“We’re meeting one of the original adventurers, Zemilay Lyks. Trial’s father.”
“Oh. Ok. Is he like Trisoll?”
“No, quite the opposite. Any who, he’ll be able to accommodate with him. You know, my father has a similar background as you. He was taken from our home and brought here, it’s how he met Zemilay. He helped him adjust, helped him in the city to become a hero. It’s what I;m here to do, become a great man.”
Stranger is quiet while digesting the information. “People are ready to stab each other.”
“We do what we can to protect each other.”
“I’ll need to learn to protect myself.”
37:33

---

The Great Hall of the Thieves’ Guild was a cloaked in secrecy as it usually was. The small, square windows that peppered its drab exterior remained tinted, while a single steel door served as the only visible entrance into the guild. Grum tethered his horse to a nearby post and knocked in the usual, secret pattern upon the rusty door. After a moment, a small grate at eye level swung open and a disembodied voice called out from the darkness behind it.

“What d’ya want?!”

Grum leaned his face towards the metal grille and shot the bodiless voice a smug look. The grate slammed shut and Grum relaxed as he heard the sound of heavy-duty locks tick and clunk from behind. The door slowly opened and the familiar, gruff doorman stood crossed armed at the side. Grum sauntered and made his way towards the basement steps.
“Thurman in?” Grum asked before heading downstairs. The doorman silently nodded, his cantankerous expression unyielding. “Thanks.”

Grum descended the smooth concrete staircase without making a sound and slipped into Thurman’s chamber with ghostly grace. In the center of the room he saw his elvish mentor kneeled over another young ward. Thurman kneeled in close to his student and watched as the young thief made attempts at picking open a locked chest. Despite the stealthiness of Grum’s boots, Thurman was never one to keep his back unwatched for too long. Thurman glanced back and saw Grum standing in the doorway. He motioned to Grum to wait and returned to guiding his young student through the finer points of lock picking. Thurman gently guided the boy’s hands and directed his thin fingers over the student’s own. He spoke his instructions softly, explaining the intricacies of the such a device.

“One must rush only if his life depends on it. Find your rhythm, the rest will fall into place.”

The student nervously jerked his lock pick and a small ping echoed through the room. The student hung his head and sighed in frustration. The practice chest had taken another casualty: the young student’s thin, metal pick. The student pocketed his one and half picks and lifted the chest. Thurman guided him towards the door while Grum watched, his arms folded in mild amusement.

“Come back again next week, we’ll try some again,” Thuman said as he took the chest from the boy and guided him out of his chamber.

“Have you come for a lesson?”
“Not exactly,” Grum replied, unfolding his arms as he neared his tutor. “I have come with personal information.”
“Hm. Perhaps a change of venue is in order.”
“Perfect.”

Thurman draped himself in his hooded cloak and together they left the Great Hall in a calm, easy manner. Grum followed Thurman across Newhope District and into a small dive called The Wretched Eye. They settled at a small table in the middle of a crowded area of the bar where they sat across from each other posing as friendly patrons. After their drinks arrived, Grum took a single sip before retrieving a small piece of charcoal from his pocket. On a napkin, he began to scribble — his eyes still observing the crowd around him between words.

“There’s a plot against you,” read the note upon the napkin.
Thurman was taken aback but made good effort not to show his discomfort. “We should…” he whispered as he nonchalantly crumbled the napkin onto his lap.
“Go somewhere else?” Grim joked.
“When we part, we go separate ways. Meet me soon at the Nymph & Satyr.” Thurman said, tucking the folded napkin into his belt before throwing down a piece of silver for his barely-touched drink. Grum waited after his departure. He finished his own drink, picked up the silver left behind by Thurman, and made his way towards the bar to pay their tab before heading out. He folded his arms across the bar and waited for the barkeep to accept his money. The couple standing next to him slid their coin across the bar and shuffled away. Waiting, another figure entered his periphery.

Ta-tap, ta-tap, ta-tap went the sound of nails impatiently rapping against the wood of the bar. Grum gave a side glance and could see the delicate hands of a woman. As he focused on her incessant rapping, he took special notice of her finger tips. Hunter green polish on the pointer, blood red on the middle, and the same green lacquer of the rest. He silently sighed to himself as he turned to greet her: Asteria Silverkin.

“So. I see you two met. Get anything out of him?”
“No information from him. I was out of town. Patience will prevail, m’lady.”
“I know you were,” she nodded with a smirk.
Grum smiled back and pushed a silver piece towards her for a drink. “On me.”
Asteria pursed her lips and straightened up her stance. “We’ll be watching.”
“Remind me not to try and buy you a drink again!” Grum huffed before sauntering out. Asteria reclined back against the bar and watched him disappear onto the streets. A moment later, the barkeep returned and looked around baffled. “Oi!” Asteria, it seemed, had vanished, and with her the coin left behind by Grum and the patrons.

Grum headed north towards the Nymph & Satyr Tavern. Along the way, his half-elven ears perked at the sound of footsteps mimicking his own. His thieves intuition was buzzing — he was surely being followed! Spotting a small alcove built into the side of a nearby building, Grum slipped out of the stream of pedestrians and into the shadows. Leaning out just enough to survey the alleyway, he watched for any suspicious characters. Suddenly, his eyes met the eyes of another. A young woman, a stranger clad in dark leather armor with long, crow-black hair. He quickly looked her body up and down and as he did so, he caught a glance of her fingertips, each one of them painted in a very familiar sanguine hue.
“Cunts,” Grum groaned to himself.
Realizing his cover had been blown, he stared the mystery women down from across the alcove. He smirked and in response she smiled and wiggled her red-painted fingertips against her thigh. Her body tensed up as if ready to move. With a wink of his eye, Grum quickly bolted from the alcove and rushed down the alley towards the Inn. His stalker pushed through the wandering passerbys and stayed focused on him. Grum briefly glanced back and watched as the stalker disappeared from his line of sight. Grum paused for a moment and glanced down the alley. Seeing no sight of his stalker, he sprinted off back towards The Nymph & Satyr Tavern.

Grum slowed his pace as he neared the infamous pub. Before reaching the front steps, he caught the movement of a silhouette out of the corner of his eye. He spun around and saw her standing there plain as day: his shadowy, red-nailed stalker. Grum quickly turned back towards the front of the Inn and as fast as he could, yanked a small glass vial of milky white liquid from his belt. In one seemingly fluid motion, Grum popped the cork to the vial, guzzled down the liquid contents, and chucked the empty vial at the mystery woman’s feet. As the vial smashed and shattered against the ground, Grum’s body exploded into a cloud of thick, white smoke. The woman buried her face into the bend of her arm, fearing the worst from the strange white smoke. The cloud quickly dissipated and began to thin as it floated into the air. The woman lowered her arm to find Grum gone, seemingly vanished. Little did the stalker realize, the vial Grum had ingested was a Potion of Gaseous Form and that the cloud of vapors swirling in the air above her was actually him!

Grum hovered in the air and slowly billowed behind the woman, who quickly rushed from the street to an alley between the tavern and the brewery next door. Grum watched in his new, insubstantial form as the dark-haired woman met up with another woman. Adorned with copper-colored hair and clad in similarly dark leather armor with fingers decorated in similar red nails, Grum watched as the two of women briefly discuss BEFORE RED HEAD CASTS TELEPORT

Grim filters into the pub via a cracked window and floats looking for Thurmin. As he floats, he surveys the bar and finds him in a backroom, back against the wall. He blends in with the pipe smoke. He filters into the cubby and destabilizes right in front him.

“Are you a spell caster?”
“No, just fortunate enough to be in posession of a few good potions.”
“Secrets upon secrets.”
“Maybe a few.”
“Did you ditch your tail?”
“Yes, at least the one I know about.”
“Me as well. I had one on my tail as well, but she disappeared.”

Grim reveals half of the gold coin that Averia paid as a deposit on his
“I would’ve thought my life worth more haha. Thank you, it’s obvious the Red Nails are on to me.”
“This is serious.”
“Of course. I’ll have to rally more sympathetic members to our cause. Fair warning, this may come with bloodshed.”
“High stakes for everyone it seems. The better of assistance I can be.”

They return to the Guild in a show of solidarity.
….

George answers the door at Pimpleton Manor and finds Vetnik with a vagabond in tow.

“Yes,
“Ah, another nom de plume.” George wisecracks.

George guides them in and serves the both of them a couple mugs of ale. “one for you… stranger? Dwarfsod? Tea?”
“Just get him some ale.”
“Two mugs of ale then.”

Vetnik takes the stranger to the study. Burbis and Lyks are inside, while Xanti is away at market. Lyks is being “entertained” by a plodding story about a porcupine who lost his spines. Burris buzzes around both of them as he lets them in. He pokes and prods at the stranger, tugging at his cloak.

Vetnik sets the fur-wrapped Eye onto the table and takes a seat from across Lyks.

“Leave him be, Burbis. Sit!”

Burris scuttles back to Lyks’ side and smokes a bit of his pipe. The stranger declines and continues to stand.

“This is the Eye.”
“Where is everyone?”
Vetnik fills in as much as he knows. “We’ll be meeting back here to take the orb back to the Uni.”

Vetnik looks at Lyks.
“You have something else to say so say it.”
Vetnik folds his hands and sighs. “There was an incident. Both Lyssa… and your son died.”
“What?!”
Vetnik explains what happened. “But they’re alive now. We got help in Blackmoor from a Gnomish church.”
“How are they? How is he?”
“Well. I don’t know how well Lyssa is taking it but I can never really tell how well she’s taking anything. Trisoll seems to be fine but we won’t really know until you speak with him.”

Zemilay beckons to stranger. “Who is this?”
“We met him oddly enough the same way you met my father.”
“Oh. Picking strangers off the street.”
“Well, Moira.” Vetnik fills him in. “If there is room for him to stay.”
“Well, if you’re vouching for him.”
“He seems like a good man who just needs a bit of help.”
“And Moira can second that?”
“Yes.”

George delivers the drinks and the stranger reveals the scant details. His home was lost to him and he was in the woods outside Blackmoor. He snuck into Blackmoor, stealing food to eat. “Moira was the one who stuck up for me, I don’t know why.”
“She has a way of seeing good in others.” Ve
“Are you both sure? I don’t have much nor do I need much.”
“Well, then you shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Enjoy your beer.” Ze
Stranger sits and reluctantly begins to relax.

George shows the stranger to a room and he stays in for the night.

Vetnik leaves after Stranger leaves, politely excusing himself. “I’m sorry I had to be the bearer of bad news. I feel I’d let you down, trying to protect your son.”
“THere’s a lot of love in there behind that icy exterior.”
Vetnik chuckles and excuses himself, taking the orb with him. He heads out to The Nymph & Satyr Tavern to see if Sera is there.

Vetnik finds Sera enjoying the company of another man at the Nymph & Satyr. When she swings around she spots him and pauses. Vetnik smiles and walks to the bar. As he passes, she breaks from her date.

“Where’ve you been, sir knight? I’ve had some cold nights.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Well, after a time…”
“Listen, your heart may be cold but mine is hot, and fast. I can’t wait around.”
“I understand. Go be able. Let your smile continue to light up the world.”
“I will. You’re a good man, Vetnik T.” she says, kissing him on the cheek. She rushes back to the other side of the bar.

In the bar, a lonely woman sits at a nearby table. “Tough luck, soldier.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I saw what happened.”
“You don’t know the whole story.”
“I know enough of it. Come, have a seat.”
She extends her hand to shake his. “Aris’ the name” She is clearly a warrior with masculine swagger. “Sit down, warrior. Let’s talk troubles of the heart.”
“Not really a trouble.”
“Nonesense! Barkeep, shots! I hope you like the hard stuff.”
“Of course. I love the hard stuff.”
Ari chuckled before downing her shot.
Vetnik playfully carries her on his shoulder out of the bar.

Thom heads to the Sages Guild. Because it’s so late in the evening, only adepts are available and are beyond their comprehension. “They have grave consequences if read by the wrong person. Come back in the morning, the masters should be awake.”

On his way out he runs into Chan, the drummer of his class. “Thom! Hello, I have not seen you for lessons for not some time.”
“I’ve been on a quest, just returned tonight.”
“Do you have some time right now, to discuss technique? Would you care for a drink?”
Together they head to the Inn of the Welcome Wench. It’s a busy evening full of merriment. They take a table and Chan gushes over Thom’s unique technique.
Thom sees himself looking back over him and meets eyes with Chan. “What just happened?” Together they head out and do their best to track the doppelgänger. Chan beats a rhythm that bolsters their speed and they shorten the distance. 18ft away, they hear “HALT! That’s him! That’s the man who stole my jewels!”
A run of guards rush the pair of drummers.
“Sorry, Chan!” Thom says as he cloaks himself in an invisibility spell.
“Where did he go?!” Panic ensues as they subdue Chan, who pleads innocence. The old royal woman continues to bark at the police. Thom continues to tail his doppelgänger. The doppelgänger seems to run at an alarmingly quick speed and bounces up the walls of nearby buildings and disappears from sight. Thom returns to the scene and finds Chan quiet even with threat of imprisonment. “He took my jewels, I saw him with my own two eyes!”
Thom casts charm from the veil of invisibility. He comes around the corner and returns to visibility, hands up. The woman is still barking “There he is!”
“Oh dear lady, I’d never steal from a beautiful noblewoman such as yourself.”
“Oh. Oh dear, perhaps he didn’t do it!”
“Tell me more about this person who did it?”
The guard captain steps forth. He escorts Thom to Vortis’.

“Thom, Garyn, what’s going on?”
“Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, sir. Can you confirm the identity of this man.”
“Yes, of course. Thom Drum. Why do you need to know?”
“Someone stole some riches from Miss Waller.”
“Gary, no. He has no need.. you have the wrong man.”
“Does he have a twin?”
“Yes, only with black haired, but neither of these boys would do anything like this. If I am wrong, come drag me off to prison! Now let me go back to sleep.”
“I’m sorry sir, it’s still quite early—“
“I’m an old man and I need my rest.” Virtues slams the door shut.

Lyssa hurries back to her apartment. She finds nothing has been changed, pantry is still locked. She unlocks the pantry and swings it open. It reveals nothing, empty but she sees on the inside the claw marks and dried blood of her mother’s fingers. Drawing her dagger, she surveys the apartment. She sees a layer of dust but nothing else. She consults the Eye of Modius and as she brushes it, green mists start to swirl inside. She concentrates and finds there’s some resistance in accessing it. Strange. She focuses and soon they begin to part and she sees Violetta in the pantry, growing more and more frantic over time. She scratches at the door and bangs, screaming for Lyssa and Cortox to save her. Her body grows weak, dehydration and hunger pains make her hits against the door weaker and weaker. Lyssa watches as Violetta’s last muttered breath is used to curse Modius. She watches her begin to die and feels her body’s energy fade just as her mother’s did, and as she draws final shallow breaths, she calls out to Modius. “I beseech you,” she calls out through dehydrated lips. In a flash of light, she’s taken away. The Eye “closes” and she sits staring blankly into the orb, her hands trembling as she feels her energy slowly return. A mix of emotions stir within her. Needing to know more, she touches the Eye again and accesses it more immediately. Though the vision is more hazy this time, she finds out her mother still walking the Prime Material in Greyhawk at the Church of Cortox! She releases the Eye and rushes out the door to head to the Church of Cortox.

“Have you seen a woman here, an old woman. She looks something like me.”
“Yes, perhaps Sister Ygradnere? May I announce you?”
Lyssa pushes past the greeter acolyte and as he protests her entering, she charms him. “I insist, milady! Please, stop—“
“Take me to Sister Ygradnere,” Lyssa commands while charming the young acolyte.
“Yes, of course. She resides inside in the monestary.”

She is lead to a series of chambers beyond the altar room. “Stay out here.” Lyssa commands the acolyte. She enters and sees a woman dressed in opalescent violet ceremonial robes staring out into the evening sky. Long, thick silvery hair cascades down her back. She turns as Lyssa enters and its revealed to be Violetta. No longer the crone she left her as, she is a vital older woman now. The lines in her face remain, but the madness in her eyes has been replaced with a softness.

“Daughter!” She rushes, newly calm eyes welling up. She embraces Lyssa. “I’m so sorry. My mind… it wasn’t me. I’m sorry, I love you.”
“What happened?”
“In my moments of terror and as I lay dying… I’m sorry, but my mind was broken. Your father… I cursed him, but I found it in my heart to forgive! He gave me Cortox’s blessing and he healed my mind. He brought me here. I will do whatever it takes to make it right. I’m so sorry.”
Lyssa backs out of her mother’s embrace. “What do you mean ‘his blessing’? After all these years—“
“Yes, your father. He… he knows he was wrong. His ascendence has given him perspective. He regrets using us as tools. That is why he healed my mind, so that we may heal what happened between us.”
“Because he can’t do that himself.”
“No. He is no longer of this plane.”
“Just like the son of a bitch,” Lyssa whispers to herself. “Good that you’re… alright. I’m going… to go.”
“I understand. We’ll never speak of our last meeting again. It’s a new day for us.”
“Yes.”
“You have my love. And the love of Cortox.”
Lyssa shakes her head. She knows of Cortox’s power, but resents her father only stepping in at death’s door. Her breath starts to quicken. “I guess I can find you here then.”
“Yes. Find me here, but in your own time. It took me time to accept my own station, but my heart is now open to loving again. The jumbled madness of my mind is settled for the first time—“
“What did he do to you? Not now, but… then. What am I?”
“He came to Bayerton seeking the heirs to Ygranere. He found me and seduced me, charmed me into loving him. He took me and for a moment I almost thought there was a chance for happiness. But, by the time I birthed you, he had already found a new way to his goal. If he hadn’t found that path though…”
“What?”
“You were made to serve as a vessel for him. A vessel made of both his blood and from the bloodline of Ygranere.
Lyssa stood silent, stunned and seemingly heart-broken.
“Your great-grandfather Zagyg built the great castle in Greyhawk, the one now in ruins. He was a man of omnipotent power, and your father knew that. He lusted for power!”
“If he hadn’t found those other plans, I would not have been me?!”
“Yes. He sees the error of his ways, and did this to try and atone.”
“Hindsight is always clearest. I have to go!”
“I understand. Go with my love.”

Lyssa rushes out of the Church and ducks into an alley between the Church and Friendly Strangers. She succumbs to a panic attack. She takes a few minutes to gather herself before rushing off back towards her apartment. Before getting there, she is intercepted by Trisoll.

“Lyssa!” he calls out. “Are you ok? You look white—”
“What time is it?” she asks in a flustered panic.
“I’m not sure.”
“How long has it been? Is it time to return to the Manor?”
“Almost, but Lyssa. Are you alright?”
“Ok, well… I’ll see you at the manor.”
“Lyssa, I—“
“What? What do you want?!”
“No, you seem… it can wait for a better time.“
“What do you want?! There won’t ever be a ‘good enough’ time.”
“About what happened at Castle Mosshold. I’m not angry. Trithereon gave the choice to be there, and gave me the choice to stand by your side. I know the risk, the dangers. I don’t blame you. You’re still my friend. That’s it. I don’t hate you for what happened.”
“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” Lyssa responds, disarmed by his kindness.
“Like I said, Trithereon gave me a choice, and that choice was to be there for you. No hard feelings. I’ll see you back at the Manor.” Trisoll smiles at Lyssa and walks back towards home.

Back at the manor, the party gathers together one by one. The twins and Trisoll are first to arrive, where Thom tells Grum about his thieving clone.
“I ran into Lyssa. Not a shock, but she’s really upset but not in an angry way. Maybe, don’t be a dick to her.”
“What, she forgot to leave water out for her mother?” Thom jokes.
Moira comes. “I informed them of the heathen paladin. The church may have something for me. I don’t want to drag you into this, but I might have to take a small sabbatical for the church. A holy mission.”
“Watch out for heathen priests!” Th
“I’ve also taken on a student. The young man who brought Starstrike back home to me, Norrin.”
“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Lyssa enters and interrupts.
“I’m tutoring a young knight, who brought back my father’s sword—“
“No, holy mission?”
“More heathen priests are out there, and they may require a holy mission of me that will take me away for some time.”
“You can’t do that!”
“I have duty to the church.”
“What about us?”
“This is my calling. If you choose not to accompany me, I’ll take a band of knights with me.”
“Who are we fighting?” Th
“Oh no. I’m just seeking out heathen priests.”
“This is rdiculous. You don’t think there are other paladins who can do this instead of you?! You’re not a missionary.”
“I am in some ways, and if they can’t be reasoned with then there is always the sword.”
“Why are you being so cold about this?”
“It’s hard. I don’t want to leave your sides, I don’t! But the church—“
“Fuck the church!”
“Lyssa, that is blasphemy.”
“What are you going to do, stick me with your blade?”
Vetnik enters. “Who wants to take this eye back to the Uni?”
“Good idea, Vetnik. Let’s get this fucking orb out of our hair. Thom, walk with me. Bring the Tomes.”
“Vetnik, do you mind if I walk with you?” Mo

“Fuckin’ Moira.”
“Yeah. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. I’m not a godless man, in fact my goddess is rather alluring. But the idea of conversion. It’s like trying to change the spots on a frog. There’s no logic.”
Lyssa continues to mutter about Moira, but let’s him know he’ll ask Ebeviria about the Tomes.
“You trust her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Heh. I trust you not to give them to her.”
“I promise I won’t.”

Trisoll walks with Grum, who keeps his own dealing private between himself and his brother. “You and your brothers with your secrets. I hope they don’t get you killed someday.”
“Just have my back is all I ask.”
“Trisoll always has your back!” he remarks, slapping the thief’s back.

Moira walks, sullen and quiet, hurt by Lyssa’s blasphemy. “Seeing anybody?”
“I spent an evening with an entertaining young woman, but business got in the way. We all have things that keep us preoccupied.”
Moira sighs. She feels like her religion is a burden for the first time. She remains silent the rest of the way.

Lyssa is let in without issue. Lyssa confirms that the party following her are legit.
“Are you here for anyone in particular?”
“I need to speak with Ebeviria.”
He trembles at the sound of her name. “Do you want to come with?”
“Why?”
“I don’t like calling on her by myself.”
“I’ll just go myself.”
“Oh, bless you!”

Vetnik arrives after. “I am here to see Glarius Gladstone.”
“Your name?”
“Vetnik Talthraudii.”
A few moments later Vetnik and the others are hurriedly ushered into main hall to meet Glarius. He looks upon him.
“You’re missing someone. Where is our student?”
“She is seeing Ebeviria. She also doesn’t wish to be around the orb.”
“None of us do. How does she conclude that that is more important?” He opens a portal and calls out to Ebeviria. “Tell your student that she is to come to my chamber at once!” She bristles at being barked at. “Of course,” she says before dispelling the portal.

Lyssa knocks on Ebeviria’s door and she is allowed entrance. She steps in and tells Thom to wait outside. Ebeviria steps up, while Carthis yawns and remains beside her throne. “I see you’ve returned, Lyssa!”
“Yes. I just wanted to let you know I was back.”
“I assume this means you acquired the eye?”
“In so many words.”
Ebeviria perks up. “Glarius demands your attention. If you please, go visit him first!” Lyssa cocks her head at the sound of her mistress’ politeness. “Tend to Glarius, we’ll speak afterwards.”

Thom and Lyssa hustle to the great hall. “How good of you to join us. Now, I can feel my powers at an ebb, so I assume you have good news for me?” He says with a smile.
Vetnik begins to reveal the orb. Lyssa reaches out to hand the orb over herself, brimming with a strange confidence. Vetnik steers it away and approaches, but before getting too close, Glarius summons attendants.

“Take this to the Black Zone in the courtyard.” They abide and cart the orb off to the dead magic area. “My thanks to all of you! I’m glad I didn’t have to expend any of the college’s resources. Consider the boon paid.”

“What do you plan on doing with the orb?” Lyssa asks.
“Your pardon? Our plans for the orb… are too sensitive to share. Rest assured, it will be dealt with appropriately.”
“We risked out lives. Some of us lost our lives. We—“
“Your sacrifice is noted, dear girl. However, I will not be questioned again on this. We have been planning to deal with this for quite some time. Good day to you… all of you.”
Lyssa storms out to see Ebeviria. Thom follows with Tomes in hand.

“Did we get a bonus?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was a boon. The boon’s been paid, we did their dirty work.”
“They tell you what they’re going to do?”
“They’re keeping it in the Black Zone.”
“Are they trying to get rid of it or harness its power?”
“I don’t know but we should keep an eye on it.”

The pair enter Ebeviria’s chamber. Thom is startled by her beauty. “You look quite beautiful when you’re angry” he says making a pass. Carthis grumbles as Ebeviria rolls her eyes. Thom feels like it could’ve gone either way.
“Lyssa. What is this favor that the guild can do for you?”
Lyssa waves Thom over and he opens his pockets. Lyssa takes a tome out and presents it to Ebeviria. Both watch as Ebeviria almost salivates at the sight of them. Her eyes light up.
“Where did you come by these?!”
Thom whispers to Lyssa. As he does, Carthis roars loudly.
“What does she know about the Eye’s intent?” he asks her
Lyssa is too spooked by Carthis and waves Thom off. “We found them in Castle Mosshold. Same place we found the Eye.”
“What you have here are tomes of incredible magical power. Each one is very specialized, and can only be read by someone who’s pursuit matches the book itself. For instance, this Manual of Stealthy Pilfering is meant for the eyes of a thief only. They impart incredible knowledge of a given craft. It can make thieves more skilled, warriors more deadly—“
“A mage more powerful?”
Ebeviria waves her comment off.
“Thom, can you excuse us?” Lyssa asks, giving Thom back the thieves’ tome. Thom excuses himself but listens at the door for their conversation.

“Yes, Lyssa?”
“Some things happened back there that I can’t explain. I… died back there.”
“In Mosshold?”
“I see. And your companions found it within their reason to restore you to life. Consider yourself lucky.”
“Something else happened. I can’t explain it but I tried casting a spell and it surged, but all of a sudden it didn’t. I was… I was back before it all happened.”
Ebeviria is intrigued. She leans in wanting to know more. “Hmm. Next time we meet, tell me more about that episode. Perhaps we can tap into it, and perhaps even gain control over it. Those tomes, by the way… that is literally a king’s ransom.”
“Of gold or magic?”
“Either!”
“What use would one have who doesn’t follow the intended pursuit?”
“They would cause great harm.”
“Thank you for meeting with me.”
“Thank you for the favor that you and your companions have returned the Eye to the guild.”
“What does Glarius have planned for the Eye?”
“To harness or destroy it? I hope it’s the latter.”
“If it’s the former?”
“Well. We’ll see.”

Lyssa takes her leave and meets back with Thom. “How’d that go?”
“There’s a lot of power here in these books. You said you’d be able to get some info in the morning?”
“Yeah, at the Sages Guild”
“Why pay some old man to read these when we can read these ourselves! You’re skilled, you can magically identify them. If anything, I have an incredible magical library at my disposal. I can help research where I can.”
“Hm. There’s a thought.” Thom says with a smile.

The pair rendezvous with the rest of the group outside of the Uni.
“Any luck?” Tri
“No bonus.” Thom.
“When we left. They were super nice to us! We’ve probably curried favor with them.”
“Well, turns out our books are quite the find. Seems that each book can unlock powers within a specific area of pursuit.”
“Thom, let’s take them back to my place.”
“Alright, let’s go!” Trisoll
“I don’t think she’s inviting all of us.” Vet
“Oh. Well, um… have fun!” Trisoll
“Trisoll, come on. Let’s head back to the manor.”
“Yeah! I’ve craving some sweets, mayhaps some fried pastries…”
“I’ll come back with you all if you don’t mind.” Moira.
“What about you, Grum?” Vet
“Yeah, I’ll come with you.”

Grum finds that the Manor is being kept under watch by a small elven woman in a cloak. In response, he heads to the Night Bazaar to find Bayzox. The goblin merchant offers him a trio of traps: sleep, paralyze, and deathly poison. “Bayzox thanks you for business!” He returns and lets the others know he’s adding some security to the manor. Zemilay responds in turn by agreeing to cast some wards of his own in the morning.

Thom and Lyssa leave and spend the evening together, eating the last wheel of cheese and drinking ale (Thom only) while identifying the tomes.
“If Moira is in fact going to leave, I…”
“Well, we have a couple options. Talk her out of it or perhaps set up a little show so she gets it done and out of the way.”
“You mean fake a heathen conversion?”
“Yeah! What are you thinking?”
“I just… don’t want to die again. I cannot always rely on her, or rely on my magic which I still cannot control the way I want to. Maybe… maybe you can teach me a weapon? Perhaps the longbow?”
“Definitely.”
“Your mother and father, you’ve told me they’re well traveled. Do they know of anyone whose ever been resurrected?”
“Yes. My father, and one of his companions.”
“How did they take it?”
“Well, my father seemed to take it all in stride. The price of being a hero and all that.”
“And the other?”
“He didn’t like talking about her much. From what I remember, things didn’t end well.” Thom hands Lyssa the Librum of Gainful Conjuration and she begins reading it while he stays up identifying. “I don’t trust the Guild by the way. Keep your eyes and ears open.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Well, if worse comes to worse, you think you and your brother might be up for a heist?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Head north and find the door free of traps and noise. Grum pushes the warped wooden door in and reveals a hallway. Grum leads them east to a door and Thom hears the sound of mecha-zombies clanking behind the door.

“I think we have more undead contraptions!”
“Should we fight them?”
“I think so.”

Grum finds a trap on the door and locked. Grum tries and succeeds in disarming a trap, set to trigger something unseen and unfamiliar to him. Grum works to unlock the dual tumblr lock but misses and breaks his pick.

“I can unlock the door, “ Lyssa to Thom.
Trisoll blesses the party as Lyssa casts a Knock spell on the door. The spell takes and the lock is undone; the door creaks open.

Grum sneaks a glance and sees six mecha-zombies protecting a silver coffer. Grum informs them and Thom sneaks into the room to begin drumming. Grum wants to lead with a backstab but Lyssa offers a more offensive move. Lyssa throws the door open and shoots a fireball into the crowd, which explodes and breaks up their congress. Grum lands one back stab on a mecha-zombie with a longsword and slays it with a second gouging stab.

They lumber towards the door and Vetnik is first after Grum to greet them. He slays a burning one, and Moira strikes a second with Starstrike. Grum continues to stab at the undead. Thom quickly whips out his drums and drums for +1 to hit. Gelfradur steps up with an axe but misses. Trisoll whacks one zombie with his shillelagh and bashes the skull of the mecha-zombie in, all in the name of Trithereon, with ferocious strength. Even he is surprised by the savagery of the attack, but sees the mecha-zombie is still twitching on the ground. One zombie swipes at Moira but misses. A second attacks Vetnik and misses as well. A third attacks the scale-mailed Gelfradur with two clubbing fists. Gelfradur staggers, his already injured body barely hanging on as coughs up blood! Lyssa goes to stab Moira’s attacker but misses.

Trisoll, boosted by Trithereon’s strength and feeling renewed post-resurrection, hits an injured mecha-zombie and brings it down. The last two mecha-zombies fight the party to the end. The first attacks Vetnik and pummel him with two blows. The second mecha-zombie lunges at Gelfradur, grabbing his right hand and shattering the bones within with his gear-powered grip. He falls to the ground, cradling his arm and shivering from shock. Vetnik cuts into his attacker twice and fells it. Moira swings at the last remaining zombie but he proves too nimble at first, but she sticks him in the neck and cuts it down. The throat squirts out black fluid and all are fallen.

Grum checks the silver coffer and finds it trapped and locked. Grum isn’t adept enough with the trap and he triggers it. A Cone of Cold blasts from the chest and sends out a wave of freezing energy, leaving the floor covered in frost and spikes of ice. Lyssa, Vetnik, Moira, Trisoll, and Grum are all hit while Thom and Gelfradur prove agile enough to dodge it. Lyssa’s Brooch of Shielding absorbs half of the damage, but Trisoll struggles to fight off the cold. He gathers those caught in the spell’s blast around him and casts healing prayers upon himself, Gelfradur and Grum, bringing them both back from the brink.

“Bar…bar the door, I’ll… I’ll learn more s…spells!” Trisoll urges. Vetnik drapes his chilled friend in his cloak. He spends thirty minutes thawing out and meditating on more healing spells, which he bestows upon himself before paying special attention to Gelfradur and later Moira. Grum drinks of his potion of healing and revives himself.

Grum goes back to the chest while everyone rests and cracks the chest open. It’s full of eight large tomes. Thom picks a book up at random and finds a ‘Manual of Stealthy Pilfering’. Lyssa is curious and inspects the chest as well but sees only embossed leather covers, each of a different shade and different pattern etched into them (though uniform in size.) Beyond that, she is unable to discern their nature or origin. Thom doesn’t discover the identity of the second book but the third book is a ‘Book of Exalted Deeds’. He misses the 4/5/6 but finds the 7th to be a ‘Manual of Righteous Warfare’. He discovers the last book to be a ‘Manual of Natural Tactics’. He casts identify over the 2nd book and uncovers it as a ‘Manual of Puissant Arms’. Thom waits 30 minutes and casts Identify over the remaining books: ‘Labrum of Gainful Cojuration’, a ‘Book of Leaves’, and a ‘Manual of Chivalrous Intent’.

“I still would’ve preferred gold.” Grum
“Don’t worry, we can still sell them.” Thom says as he places them safely into his deep pockets. “Knuckle draggers, you wanna carry this coffer?”
“I’m not here for wealth!” Moira
Vetnik steps in and crams the coffer into his bag of holding. “Done!”

They wait for Thom to relearn more effective spells before unbarring the door and continuing onwards. As Grum moves through the hall, he detects a secret door leading back into the demon statue room. He passes on it and continues to another door. Thom hears a strange, droning sound humming behind the door. Grum finds the door unlocked but trapped, and disarms with skill. He follows the trap leading to a jet above them. Thom peers through the keyhole and sees a comely humanoid female with wings and sharply-pointed eyebrows. She, an Alu-Fiend, locks her black eyes with Thom (despite his invisiblility!) He breaks his invisibility shield and jabs Trisoll in his gut with his wakashazi blade. Trisoll wretches in pain and recoils from his companion while the others surround the enchanted bard.

Vetnik reaches out to grapple him by the shoulders but misses. Moira tries to tackle him to the ground but he proves too nimble. Trisoll focuses on Thom and attempts to counter-charm but the demoness’ charm proves too strong. Lyssa, still charmed by Thom, steps between he and the knights.
“Lyssa, stand aside, he is bewitched!” Trisoll cries out.
Gelfradur looks to the Vetnik as to what to do.
“He’s not in his right mind!” Vetnik cries out to the dwarf.

Gelfradur rushes into Thom’s legs, tackling him to the ground and grapples him successfully. Grum sees his brother afflicted and pins him down, doing his best to shake him out of the charm. Thom struggles at first but is overcome with rage-filled strength amplified by the demon’s charm.

Lyssa kicks at Gelfradur but he continues to seize Thom up in his grappling hold. Trisoll struggles to tap into Thom’s mind and fails once more, and feels himself being pushed out by a demonic presence. Vetnik stands back while Moira pleads with Lyssa to help in taking Thom’s mind back. Gelfradur keeps Thom pinned down and tightens his hold on him. Suddenly, the door swings open and in the doorway stands the winged creature. Grum continues to plead and finally Thom frees himself of the Alu-Fiend’s charm. Gelfradur relaxes his hold and together they stand just as the winged fiend emerges from the chamber.

She points at Grum and commands him to drop his weapon and he immediately does so. Gelfradur leaps up calling out to a Dwarven god of the North and swings at the devil but misses. Vetnik draws his sword and rushes the blade into her, cutting her left arm from her body. The Alu-Field hisses in excruciating pain and shock as her black blood gushes from the hole. Thom comes to his senses and closes his eye to summon a monster. From down the hall, three of the Dretch appear and enter the fray to begin attacking the Alu-Field. Trisoll watches and blesses the party while Moira calls out to Cortox, inspired by Vetnik, but misses. Grum comes to his feet and instead of fetching his blade, he draws his bow and releases a pair of bolts, but both bounce off her flesh. Lyssa fires off a minute meteor and as the bolt explodes against the Alu-Fiend, Lyssa charges the winged beast with her Red Athis Dagger. When the blade pierces the demon’s flesh, she howls as her form dissipates and is immediately torn away from the current plane of existence.

In the Alu-Fiend’s throne room, an orb glowing with black violet energy resting on an ornate velvet pillow. Lyssa panics and runs out of the room, feeling her connection to magical energies being stifled.

“This must be the orb! If Lyssa’s running in terror, it must be affecting her in some way," Moira exclaims before running to catch up with Moira. "Vetnik, grab the orb!”

“Is that the orb?” Moira asks Lyssa, who’s slumped against the hall
“Yes. Yes it has to be!”
“I realize you feel helpless. I understand why you’re scared, but I’m here to make sure you get back safely.”
“I can feel it spreading, like it’s coming closer! How can you say you’ll protect me?”

Vetnik scoops up the orb into a rough sack while Thom inspects the pillow and the rest of the room. He finds the relic of another unfortunate adventurer: a ring! He inspects it and finds it to be a Ring of Warmth.

“I’m going to go back and tell them we’re going ahead. Wait here!” Moira says before handing her Starstrike. "Hold onto this!”

Moira tells the others they’re traveling ahead so they can stay away from the influence of the orb. Grum agrees to go with them and the trio make their way back out of the castle.
“Wanna clean this place out?” Thom asks the party.
“What’s most important has been accomplished. Let’s go.” Moira lays hands on Trisoll and heals his stomach wound before going back to Lyssa.

Vetnik, Trisoll, and Thom keep them in their view but far enough away to keep the orb from Lyssa. Thom, in the meantime, also feels his magical abilities waning but is less anxious about it (considering them to be secondary skills to his skills as a blade!) As they leave, Lyssa feels Thom’s charm spell effects have all disappeared. Grum leads the ladies through the castle back up through the courtyard. Grum leads them up through the ruins and they return to an undisturbed campsite.

On the way back to Blackmoor, Grum spies a quartet of hunters. He and the ladies pass by them without encounter. By the time the others come up the rear, they’re gone. They soon find themselves back outside the gates of Blackmoor. The gates open and they pass the Hall of Halls and head towards The Fetch. As they approach, they see a man hassled by Dwarves guards. Dressed in a dark cloak and strange leather armor with forester’s breeches, he pleads with them in vain. Moira takes notice.
“Looks like trouble.”
“It’s none of our concern, let’s go!”
“He’s clearly in distress!” Moira walks over to the Dwarven guards.
“This man appeared from nowhere, we can’t communicate with him. We’re taking him away.”
“It’s not a crime that he cannot speak with you! I think you owe this man a fair.”
“Can you speak?"

Lyssa stomps off back towards tThe Fetch. Moira greets the others who enter into town after them, and pleads with Trisoll to facilitate communication between the mystery man and the guards. He asks Trithereon for the power to understand each other.
“What are you doing here? What is your business?!”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here!”
“This is supposed to be an acceptable answer, human?”
Vetnik walks up. “Gentlemen, perhaps we should give this gentleman a moment to get his barring?”
“This man is a thief!”
“What was the value of the food in question?”
“I’ll pay it.”
“Four silvers!”
Vetnik hands him four silvers.
“This is a fine reparation, but it doesn’t change the nature of his crime.”
“He’s clearly hungry! He didn’t steal for gain!”
Vetnik signs off on the stranger with his full royal trial. “There is a matter of the fine.”
“You let them go and we’ll discuss it.”

The stranger reveals he came from a lifetime of living in the woods.
“From this region?” Thom asks
“Obviously this was a mix up.” Vetnik comments, remembering Lyssa’s own mix up.
“All men have the right to eat. No one should be punished for their hunger.” Moira says sympathetically.
“Want some cheese?” Thom offers.

“I am Knightearl Vetnik Talthraudii of Grandrud, son of Isrygrad Talthraudii, Archduke of Granrud!”
“I am Moira Steelshaper.”
“I am Thom Drum”
“Grum Giantslayer, hello!”
“Do you have shelter or coin?” Moira asks the stranger.
“Neither.”
“We’ve just come from a great adventure, we have coin a plenty. I couldn’t sleep with myself knowing a man was out there suffering. Allow me to pay for a room for you.”
“No, I insist.”
“Vetnik, please! This is my only reason for keeping coin. Good sir, there’s a room at The Fetch. Come!”
“I was actually more interested in going back home.”
“Where is home?”
“Not sure where I am in relation.”
‘What’s the last thing you remember?” Grum asks.
“All I know is that this isn’t where I’m from. I woke up in an unfamiliar area and came here.”
“Why’d you leave it.”
“Sooner or later I had to find something to eat!”
“Are you a farmer or city person?”
“City person.”
“What kind of city? We’re happy to find where you came from?”
The stranger warms to Moira, who’s radiance is overwhelming. He reveals that he was able to sneak into the city past the war wheels.
“Friend, what is your name? We’ve given you ours?” Grum asks
“I… I’m not comfortable with sharing that just yet.”
“It’s ok. I don’t see any darkness in you.” Moira remarks.
“We can respect that.” the Black brothers agree.
Moira explains to the stranger about Lyssa. “Though ill-tempered, she has a good heart. Don’t take what she says to heart too much.”
“Fair enough.”
They pass The Dark Below, a subterranean tavern. He sees a gnome ghetto buzzing, and the comprehend language spells grants him knowledge (though they speak so quickly he can barely understand them.)

Grum paces through the city and sees little commotion. Because the city is steam and mechanically powered, the town seems quiet. One stranger he passes sees his power phase out but as they pass, he rejoices with dancing lights as the orb passes by.

“Vetnik and I are going to go fetch a couple pints of ale and meet at the fountain.”

She presses gold coins into the stranger’s gloved hand before checking on Lyssa. “This should be more than enough to keep you safe for awhile.” He looks over them and realizes they are from an unfamiliar territory. Grum goes for a drink and before he can offer one to the stranger, he goes to the innkeeper to get a room. Thom practices his forms and does his sketching and research before retiring.

Moira visits Lyssa. “I just wanted to let you know Vetnik is going to stay elsewhere with the Eye until morning. You’re safe for the night. You’ve nothing to worry about."

Lyssa pleads with Moira to stay. She agrees and the two sit silently on Lyssa’s bed together until Lyssa finally crumbles and weeps in her friend’s lap, revealing to her that “she’s made a terrible mistake” and that she has to get home soon! She soon passes out in Moira’s lap and Moira dozes off shortly after.

In the morning, the stranger is the first to wake, having passed out in his small chair facing the door. The others awaken and together they plot how to return to Greyhawk in a timely fashion with the orb in tow. Trisoll proposes that they appeal to the grand druidess, Favilla Moonstone, to see if she can’t grant them passage by other means. Thom, being the most charismatic (second only to Moira) and least dogmatic of the group, offers to woo her with a poem celebrating the old faith. Lyssa pleads with Moira to suppress her need to preach the word of Cortox in favor of helping to win over Favilla with her natural, charming personality — all for the sake of returning home sooner.

Moira and Thom both successfully make their case to the druidess, who is both impressed by Thom’s lyricism and Moira’s natural charisma. She agrees to send them back to Greyhawk via a spell enabling her to create portals through her enchanted briar patch. So won over by Thom and Moira, she agrees to let all pass despite her personal disliking towards certain members of the party (Lyssa and Trisoll in particular.) The cloaked stranger decides to tag along, staying close to Moira — an unspoken show of appreciation for her earlier generosity.

Favilla opens the briar patch up to them and they each pass through. Both Thom and Lyssa feel their connectivity to the magic energies begin to thin with each second near Vetnik and the orb, which makes Lyssa especially anxious. They pass through the briar and step out of a patch of bushes a couple miles outside of Greyhawk.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Lyssa stepped away from the locked wooden doors, staring at her hands and questioning what went wrong – having not felt her Knock spell connect. Behind her, the others kept their hands at their weapons and their eyes on Lyssa.
Thom hissed at Lyssa from behind, his tone especially panicked after hearing the Abyssal voices in congress behind the door:

“Hazahem mem do retinadas!”

Lyssa and the others slowly turned their heads ‘round and stared at Thom, confused by the words leaving his lips. He continued, “Kellidem oddoso ritty tat?”

“Yummo pop noreiga?” Moira leaned in to Thom, perplexed by his words.
“Supremidom massimae?!” Thom replied, just as confused.
“Ecki dimb odomom!” Vetnik whispered at the both of them. Lyssa surveyed her hands and continued to listen to the gibberish being whispered between them.
“Vullyie sow tak tum!”
“Ekcipricalious!”
“Rapudodoo dodedically!” The party continued to talk at each other in words indecipherable to one another, pointing to their mouths and then to Lyssa.

“Oeriousal loper! Vecniad darthanium! Yolo por werde!!” Lyssa hissed back, just as full of gibberish as the others.

While they couldn’t understand each other, each of their individual messages seemed to make sense to those who uttered them. Thom and Grum became more and more agitated, not only by their inability to speak to one another but by the still-present possibility of demons stepping out at any moment. Vetnik said little and instead stepped away to steel his frustration while Moira stepped between Lyssa and the others, trying to reason while uttering the same mad word-waste as the others. Lyssa was visibly overcome by the whole ordeal. While she couldn’t understand them, their frustration and accusatory tones were clear as crystal. Lyssa bowed her head and covered her face. Closing her eyes, she concentrated hard on what she had inadvertently done, tracing the steps backwards to the moment of approaching the locked wooden doors. Suddenly, the waves of gibberish stopped and gave way to silence; she no longer felt her hands across her face but against cool, hard wood. She opened her eyes and, to her shock, she found herself back at the doors. She jumped away from them and stared at the room in wonder for a moment.

“Lyssa,” Thom whispered from behind her, still cloaked in Invisibility! The clarity of his words shocked her back to reality, and she quickly turned to see he and the rest of her party still positioned to draw weapons. “What are you doing?!”
“I… you can,” Lyssa stammered, understanding Thom’s common words. “What just happened?”
“What do you mean ‘what just happened’? I just told you I heard something Abyssal behind those doors and you decided to go to them!”
Lyssa looked down and surveyed her hands once more, feeling the heat of magic cooling in her palms.
“Can we keeping going?” Thom asked, tense with urgency. He tapped his brother and Grum lead the others away. Moira turned back and silently beckoned to Lyssa to follow. Lyssa gave one last look to the doors and wondered what it was lurked behind them, but more importantly, how exactly she returned to this moment.

Grum and Thom scouted ahead, each of them stealthy in their own ways. Each would whistle a quick and precisely pitched note – a sign that the coast was clear. Grum kept himself ahead of his brother while Thom waited to ensure the others kept up without issue. The halls of the lower levels of Castle Mosshold were winding and dark, silent except for the clattering of heavy armor pieces rustling together as Vetnik and Moira marched throughout. Grum and Thom passed down a whistle every thirty or so feet and the others did their best to keep pace.

While Thom waited at the bend of another identical hall for the others, Grum tip-toed down the stone path, gliding across on Elven made boots that made not a noise as a stepped. The boots, however, did little to help him as he stepped down upon a particular stone panel. His toes landed and pressed upon it and suddenly he felt the weight of his step depress the panel into the floor. Too caught up in his speed to react, his next step was a leap down into a deep, dark pit that cut the walkway in two.
“Oof!” he cried out as he tumbled down onto the hard stone.
Vetnik raised his torch to see what lied down the hall but saw nothing. Thom’s keener Half-Elf vision yielded more detail in the darkness, but he too saw no sign of his brother.

Thom lead the others carefully down the hall as he passed through, he too felt the trigger panel in the floor (though this time, it was still lowered into the ground.) A half-foot or so in front of him, he could hear something scraping in vain against stone.
“A little help here!” Grum called out from below. Thom and Vetnik stepped forward in the light of the torch they saw the other Black brother standing at the base of a ten-foot pit. Its walls were smooth and undecorated, but as Vetnik passed his torch deeper into the pit, he could see the shine of old grease clinging to the walls. Vetnik passed his torch to Thom, kneeled down and reached into the pit.
“Grab my hand,” Vetnik urged, lowering his torso down into the pit. Grum squatted and with all of the force left in his legs, he leaped upwards and grabbed onto the cavalier’s thick, armored arms! Vetnik braced himself and with one mighty and effortless tug, pulled he and his companion upwards out of the pit and back with the others.
“Ought to be more careful next time, brother,” Thom jeered.
“This is a fine mess we’re in now,” Grum said, surveying the pit and the path beyond. “How do we want to get across?”
“Maybe Vetnik could just throw us all across,” Trisoll joked, slapping the noble knight’s back in good humor.
Grum offered a more practical approach: “That, or we can just jump. It’s not too far a leap.”
“Well, just be careful not to fall in again,” Thom continued to playfully taunt his brother. “We don’t want to exhaust the knight!”
Grum gave his brother a sardonic glance before stepping away from the edge of the pit. He stretched and bent his legs like a seasoned athlete and sprinted towards the pit, leaping into the air a half-foot away from the edge. He threw his arms forward as he thrust himself across the pit opening onto the other side.
“There, that was easy!” Grum said, catching his breath.
“Stand back!” Thom called out, his disembodied voice echoing through the hall. Grum and the others backed themselves against the wall, unsure of where exactly Thom was, and waited. The sound of running footsteps signaled his attempt and a moment later, the sound of his boots landing against the stone signaled that his attempt to cross was successful. Trisoll underhanded his shillelagh across the pit into Grum’s arms and he aped the movements of his acrobatic friends. He rushed towards the edge of the pit and leaped just as he had seen them do, though less graceful than the twins. Trisoll cleared the opened and tumbled onto the other side, stumbling a bit as he landed.

“You should go first,” Moira whispered to Vetnik. “If I fall, at least I know you’ll be able to help me back up.”
“What if I fall?” Vetnik replied with a bit of a wink before stepping back.

He took his place just as the others before him and exhaled. He bent down and rushed towards the edge. His nostrils flared as he charged, and like a black armored bull, he leaped across the pit with a deep, throaty grunt. His boots collided against the ground and the metal of his armor rattled and echoed even more. He exhaled once more, letting out a slight sigh of relief. Moira had a similar hesitation as Vetnik as she too was the only other member of the party encumbered with heavy metal armor. She was visibly relieved though when he crossed without incident and did her best to mimic his success. While Moira got into position, Lyssa’s impatience took precedent and without warning she rushed towards the pit with all the physical energy she could muster. Moira watched, somewhat surprised, as Lyssa cleared the open =pit and landed onto the other side with a grace no one in the party had quite seen before. Moira did her best to not let it deter her and finally began her journey across the pit. She charged ahead, her eyes focused on her friends watching and waiting for her on the other side. Her determination got the better of her and her friends only seemed to serve as a distraction. She shot off into the air but it was a moment too soon. Moira could feel her form loosen in mid air as she reached out her arms in a vain attempt to grab hold of something. The fingertips of her gauntlet scraped the edge of the pit and dragged down the wall before she completely fell upon her back, landing right where Grum had been just several minutes before. Moira rose to her foot and watched from below as the others scrambled together to retrieve her. Grum lent Vetnik a rope while Trisoll kneeled down at the edge and whispered down to her words of reassurance. Together, Grum and Vetnik threw the rope down into the pit and slid it into Moira’s hands. She tugged at it and began to pull herself up, defying the added challenge of hefty armor and her boots slipping with every step against the greased walls. Vetnik braced himself and with another mighty tug, he yanked her out of the depths. Trisoll made a pale attempt to guide her into the cavalier’s arms but soon realized she was already safe back onto even ground.

“Thank you,” she began. “All of you,” she immediately qualified in a very diplomatic way.

Together again, Grum continued to lead his brother and the rest of his party down the winding halls of the keep – this time being more cautious in his steps. After several more identical halls, he and Thom emptied into a chamber. Though the hall continued across the chamber, right in front of them stood a tall, solitary door. This door was quite different than the others: where the others had been crafted with finer wood and more elaborate brassware carved in nautical forms, this door was utilitarian in its make, crafted from thicker wood and bound in riveted bands of iron. The brothers followed their door opening procedure; Thom listened for noises inside and heard nothing, while Grum found no traps but did find the door to locked shut. Thom guided the others into the chamber as Grum studiously took to the lock with lockpicking kit. Just as the party finished filing into the chamber, Grum stepped back from the door and admired his successfully picked lock.
“Is there anything inside?” Lyssa asked from the back of pack.
Grum kneeled down and pressed his face close to the unblocked keyhole. In the light of the torches lit inside, he spotted two things: the strange silhouette of a tall statue, but more importantly, a large chest sitting in front of it. Eager to unearth something worthwhile on this trip, Grum slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Indeed, there was no one visible in the room but him. His eyes immediately honed in on the chest: the large trunk was carved from fine, polished wood and wrapped in tentacles of brilliant silver filigree that sparkled under the light of the torches. A strange and pristine sight for a palace long abandoned he thought to himself. His eyes moved from the chest upwards to the statue. On a large, ornately carved stone podium there were two figures he could make out, carved from ebony-colored marble. The first at the base was of a man, splayed out on his back with a face staring towards the entrance in wretched agony. His eyes followed the source of the stone man’s torment – a thin pitchfork forged from black, rusted metal – up to a second, more abstract figure. Its body seemed to be wrapped in tendrils and drapery, though two clawed hands shot through and held the pitchfork in place. At the top of the statue, from a lengthy and gaunt neck, rested a head but turned backwards and faceless from what Grum could see. Grum inched forward to take a closer look and just as he took a second step, the statue’s head spun around and stared straight at Grum. Its demonic visage chilled Grum: its features were sunken and defined, its skin the same ebony colored stoneflesh that seemed so taught, it pulled away from its mouth to reveal a smile of perfectly lined marble fangs and a shining silver tongue, like that of a serpent. His stomach dropped at the sudden fright and he quickly backed up towards the safety of the exit! He stared into the sculpted eyes of the demon, carved from amber marble with veins that traveled the socket to cheek down into the mouth.

“Hahahahahaha!” The demon head let out a dry and throaty cackle, mocking Grum in at least four different pitches as to confuse and unnerve him even more.

Moira immediately sensed the presence of something dark and twisted and pushed ahead to support Grum. Lyssa too sensed a darker power inside and followed right behind Moira. Vetnik stood guard outside and as Trisoll stepped into the room, Thom snuck inside behind them. While they gawked at the statue, he climbed the walls, up beyond the torches onto the stone archway of the door. He looked around the room and he too saw nothing else within except the statue and chest. He did, at his height however, see what decorated the room above the torches. Drawn in rust red pigment were unfamiliar sigils — Abyssal in nature no doubt! He kept his cool though and continued to observe, ready to leap in at a sign of danger.

“Wait,” Moira said as she stepped forward, “you can speak?”
The statue said nothing.
Moira raised her hand in front of her and took another couple steps. “What are you?”
The statue remained silent.
“Speak, demon! Whatever you are, I can still feel you in here!”
The statue stayed as it was. Moira lowered her arm and stared at the demon dead stone eyes. She wondered for a moment if Grum had heard anything at all, or if something was interfering with her divine intuition.
“Come,” Lyssa said to Moira with a hint of disappointment. “Grum, why don’t you pick the chest open and—“
“I… know… you…” the same cacophonous voice began. Lyssa and the others looked up and just as she did, the sound of stone grinding against stone echoed in the chamber as the demon head swiveled quickly at the base of its skull and fixed its amber gaze on her and Moira. Lyssa turned from Moira and moved slowly towards the statue. Grum took the opposite approach and immediately returned outside to wait with Vetnik to watch from a safe distance.
“What do you mean you know me?” Lyssa asked.
“I… know what you seek!”
Lyssa turned to the others still waiting in the room, all of who kept their eyes fixed on the statue staring at Lyssa. “Leave us.”
“Are you mad?!” Moira cried out.
“Lys, I don’t think it’s wise to even entertain… whatever this is, let alone leave you two together in here by yourselves!” Trisoll added.
“Lyssa, this room is filled with evil. We must continue on!”

“I… was… sent here…” the voices answered.
“By whom?”
“By… someone… you know…”
“Who?”
“Someone… from… the University…”
“Ebevira? Was it her?”
The statue paused before answering back.

“Yesss…”
“What are you?”
“I… was once… like you…”
“How? Were you a student?”
“Lyssa, come. Please!”
“Were you a student of Ebeviria’s?”
The statue continued to pause while Moira and Trisoll did their best to urge their companion away from the speaking statue.

“Yesss…”
“Lys, we have to keep moving! Don’t listen to whatever that thing tells you!”
“How did you end up here?”
“Maaagiiiiic…”
“Lyssa, please!”
“As punishment or to guide me?”
“Both…”
“Lyssa, we have to—“
“What do you know about the Eye of Null? Is it still here?”
“Yesss…”
“Where?”
“In… the tallest… tower…”
“Is it guarded?”
“Yesss….”
“Who guards it?”
“Nooo one…”
“No one? What do you mean ‘no one’? What guards the tower?!”
The statue said nothing back. It continued to smile as the torchlight sparkled of its tongue. Lyssa was taken aback for a moment, confused.
“Where did you say the Eye was?”
“The… Western dungeons…”
“Lys, this isn’t good, we have to get out!”
“Lyssa, do not trust this creature’s words. He has been sent here to deceive!”
“Where is the Eye now?”
“Waiting… in… the courtyard…”
“Do you believe us now, Lyssa?” Moira said, calling out to the stubborn mage. Lyssa continued to stare into the face of the marble demon. The silver tongue twinkled in the light. Silver twinkled below as well, from the serpentine filigree of the large chest that rested at the base of the statue.
“The chest! It’s in the chest!” Lyssa proclaimed confidently. The marble demon would confuse her no longer! She raised her arm and her hand sparkled with scarlet energy as she cast a Knock spell over the chest.
“Lyssa, no!” Moira cried out.

The silver tendrils surrounding the locked swung apart and the lid of the chest shot open. As Lyssa’s eyes returned to normal, a sinking feeling fell deep in her gut. A loud hiss echoed through the chamber, but not from the mouth of the demon statue but from the chest itself. Giant plumes of thick, acrid gas emptied out of the chest and engulfed Lyssa as they billowed towards the door.

Seeing the gas escape the chest, Thom flipped down from the archway and back out into the hall where Vetnik and his brother waited. Grum stood by and watched as Moira and Trisoll did their best to outrun the rapid surge of gas filling the room. Soon their bodies were engulfed just as Lyssa’s had been and, seeing no other option, Grum quickly slammed the door shut! A mass of desiccated voices laughed riotously from behind the door. Vetnik, Grum, and the unseen Thom watched and waited for some harbinger of good news. The last echo of laughter sounded and together they stood in silence and in shock.

The faint sound of coughing followed from behind the door. The trio of men could hear the sound of metal armor shuffling towards the door. Grum mustered up the bravery to approach, but before he could open the door, Moira defiantly swung it open. Her eyes and nostrils red with irritation and wet with tears and snot, she coughed as she entered the cleaner air of the outside chamber. Under each arm was the motionless body of a companion. Unable to continue, she sunk down to her knees and continued to gasp for air, releasing Trisoll and Lyssa from her grasp. Their bodies rolled onto the floor, limp and unmoving. The trio felt helpless as they circled around their companions. Moira steadied herself, taking in the sweet-by-comparison dungeon air. She lifted her head up from the ground and turned to see Lyssa to her right: her thin mouth stayed parted while her deep, brown eyes looked upwards into nothing. She spun her head to the left and saw a similar sight: Trisoll on his belly, his motionless cheek pressed down onto the cold stone floor, his ashy blonde hair covering unblinking blue eyes. Vetnik kneeled down, removed his gauntlet, and pressed his fingers to Trisoll’s throat. He closed his eyes and sighed as he turned his friend over onto his back.
“No! No, no, no, no…” Moira chanted to herself as the tears continued to flow down her cheek. She covered her face and recited a prayer to Cortox through trembling lips. The Black brothers stood back and remained quiet and in shock. Grum kneeled down and did what he could to quietly console Moira while Vetnik lifted the body of his fallen friend into his arms in a stoic and dignified manner.

Group leaves Castle Mosshold, Morrigan lets them pass and watches them leave saddened by their loss.

Group returns to camp to find the hut undisturbed, but one of the snares has gone off. Moira prepares both bodies and wraps them to preserve them. They agree to come back only after they’re able to revive their fallen friends.

They make the trip back to Blackmoor without incident. They find a Gnomish temple who agrees to raise them for a hefty amount of gold. Trisoll is resurrected first and is delighted to be back with his friends, having returned from the grave with renewed vigor. Unable to pay for her own resurrection, Moira pays for Lyssa to be resurrected (as part of her oath) and Lyssa is brought back to life. Her reaction is very different, one of traumatic rebirth. For the first time, she floods Moira with vulnerability.

The party tells Trisoll and Lyssa they want to go back and finish the quest for the Eye of Null. Trisoll is agreeable, but Lyssa is understandably frightened to go back. She agrees she will ride with them to the Mosshold but will not return to the castle.

Once back in Mosshold, they set up camp as usual. Lyssa continues to protest going back inside, so Thom does the only thing he knows he can do to snap her out: casts a Charm spell over her, lasting three days. Together again, the party re-enters Castle Mosshold. In there, they find the body of Morrigan Shearwood, who has seemingly slit her own throat on her once-sacred sword. Thom and Grum sack the room and find __________________.

They return to the lower levels. In the first room they access, they find a fivesome of Dretch. Lowly, speechless demons who put up little fight. In the next chamber they spy a trio of Ogres roasting pieces of a man’s corpse over an open flame, while they feed a pet Giant Boar leftover limbs. In the corner, a grizzled dwarf waits tied up in the corner. They party agrees to an ambush and they enter in full force. Trisoll’s telepathic mastery over animals comes in handy as he uses his connection with the Giant Boar against the Ogres. While the party battles it out, Thom rescues the dwarf.

The party fells the ogres. While the others grill the Dwarf about who is he is and how he ended up in Castle Mosshold, Lyssa searches the bodies of the Ogres while retrieving her projectile blade. Among the dead she finds FOUR GEMS, X amount of coin, a scroll covered in X amount of spells, levels 1-4, as well as chainmail for the dwarf.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Thom awoke to find a note from his fling for the evening, Tabys Minwyn thanking him for his special brand of hospitality. He folded it up, tucked it into his journal, and took his leave of the Comeback Inn after the departure of. Thom gathered his things and as he departed, he noticed the tense and almost-somber vibe of the Inn. His drums and art supplies under arm, he wandered through the lobby of the Comeback Inn and saw no guests, only Inn staff and armored guards mulling about concerned with matters discussed in hushed tones. Thom, having already paid for his stay, passed through the foyer and exited back onto the streets of Blackmoor, where its citizens spoke of the strange colored lights in the sky above the Inn. He hurried back to The Fetch for the night and waited to meet with his companions in the morning.

Vetnik was first to rise, as he was often to known to do. In the dining area, he took samplings of both the dwarven and gnomish eats (the former of which suited him more.) Grum woke next and hit the floor to do a quick exercise regiment. He headed downstairs and spotted Vetnik enjoying a pair of plates.
“How’s the food?”
“Not too bad. I got a bit of each, feel free to enjoy some. These Dwarves portions are too large for one man.”
Grim nibbled at the Gnomish cuisine, appreciating the leanness and earthiness. “This is far more complex than I would’ve imagined.”
Trios comes down, refreshed and well-rested, having stayed in and called it an early evening after checking in at The Fetch.
“You seem chipper!” Gr
“Yea! I’m eager to get this over with, to get back home.” Tr
“As long as you’re feeling better.”
“You’re fine. I don’t worry about you at all. And I mean that in the best way possible.”
“Thank you, Grum! Means a lot to me!”

Trios takes a portion of Vetnik’s large, Dwarven meal and the two enjoy together. Thom heads down next and joins the guys for breakfast. Vetnik waves to the staff for more food and drink. Grum asks for Dwarfsod (Oerth’s version of coffee.) After enjoying a brief nibble, Thom excuses himself and steps outside and sneaks between the Inn and guard station to practice his forms. While Thom is away, Moira comes downstairs with an expression of defeat.
“Good morning, boys. How are you? Sleep well?”
“After a round of drinks I did.” Vet says, welcoming her to the table. “Please, sit. Have something to eat.”
“Thank you.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, just…”
“C’mere, sit here!” Gr
Moira does so and confesses it’s Lyssa (yet again.) The trio of boys nod knowingly.
“Here, take a sip” Grum hands her some Dwarfsod.
“Ooh! It really has a kick!”
“Yeah, that’ll get your mind off of it.”
“I dunno, seems a little too strong for me.”
“It’s an acquired taste, honey. Let’s leave it at one sip for you today.”
“Has anyone seen Lyssa yet?”
They all shake their head no.
“We ought to check her room then.”
“Perhaps we wait a little while longer. Lest we ‘offend’ her.”

15 minutes later, Lyssa wakes from a good night’s sleep. Something burned out of her from that moment in the Comeback Inn. She comes downstairs and sees her group, among the tallest in the inn. She saunters to the table and sits at the head of the table, eyeing Moira.
“Hey Lyssa, how’d you sleep?” Trio
“Fantastic,” she says eyeing Moira. Moira doesn’t acknowledge and continues nibbling on her food. “What do we have to eat here?”
“Dwarven and Gnomish cuisine.”
Lyssa noticeably perks up at the sight of Gnomish food and takes a plate of it, enjoying it.

“Vetting, any thoughts as to what we should do today?” Mo
“Nothing yet.”
“Grum?”
“We should discuss potential destinations and investigate from there.”
“Where, there’s Mosshold, the last known location for the Eye. One of the things that’s concerning there is this fallen Paladin of Celestial. I just… don’t understand though.”
“Don’t understand what?”
“Why she would cling to this obviously false shard of a religion. Why she still devotes her life to such a… lie.”
Lyssa looks up from her meal visibly rolls her eyes then continues eating, while Vetnik sighs aloud.
“Well, her beliefs are real to her.” Gr “Everyone has a different reality.”
“We all have our weaknesses. I’m sure why this Paladin fell has something to do with that weakness.” Th says returning to the dining room.
“Moss hold is only a day away then. Shall we ride?” Mo
“As long as you’ve got more of that cheese and ale packed!” Trio
“Of course! Let us make haste then!” Th

They stand up and, as they head to the door, Lyssa cuts past Moira and slams her portion of silver down on the table. Moira averts a direct gaze and heads out with the others, avoiding Lyssa. Outside, they mount their steeds and head towards the Western gate. As they open, they watch in wonder as the black iron gates open mechanically, gears spinning and puffs of smoke spurting out. They pass and head into the wilderness across dry, grassy shrubs. In the distance, they see a town in disrepair. Its stone and wooden structures covered in layers of unruly ivy. Where Blackmoor’s grounds were mostly earth and cobblestone, the native plants have wildly grown and collapsed the entire city. They ride through a lot of nothing, the sound of hooves against grasses and plants the only thing that sound beyond wildlife scurrying through the brush. Entering Mosshold, they see the occasional human. They conceal themselves behind fallen structures and shield their children. Deeper into town, more and more humans can be spotted but they keep to their alcoves and thresholds. No sight of children playing, no free range animals, no sounds of a community. They are hushed and those that don’t immediately rush and seal themselves off into their homes watch in silence.

At the center of town, the party sees Inns, trading posts and other buildings are seen boarded up and broken down. Castle Mosshold waits behind them all, its silhouette imposing but its structure just as abandoned. Only three corner towers stand, the forth and front most tower having been destroyed taking with it the nearby parapet walkways and turrets. Through the rubble, shards of brilliantly colored stained glass shoot up alongside weeds, rotted wood, and the decay of finery like tapestries and upholstered furniture. Nearing the Castle, Lyssa extends her hand and tries to detect magic, but her radar picks up nothing.
“This place is void of magic,” Lyssa informs.
While Lyssa scans the area, Thom places his hand upon his shoulder and intones himself in an aura of Strength magic.
“You guys, the townsfolk here are watching you cast spells and are freaking out.” Grum whispers to the pair. Lyssa and Thom look around and confirm their feared reactions. Not wanting confrontation, the party picks up their pace and head towards the castle at double the pace.

Once in the shadow of the castle, they park next to a thicket of old, untrimmed trees. They notice no guards and no visible sight of activity around or within the castle. Ravens circle above and fly out of view while, behind them, the townsfolk cautiously step back out of their homes and leer from afar. Together, they strategize as to what to do while searching the castle, Thom takes a seat in the shade and begins to concentrate on relearning his magics.
“Well, why we wait, we can set snares around the carts and make sure that these sketchy townsfolk don’t take off with our goods!” Gr
Grim gets to work on setting a series of snares in a ring around their stuff. Lyssa watches Grum lay them out in his quiet and efficient way and asks Grum to show her how to lay them, which he obliges. The two set up traps while Thom steeps himself into his spell book; Moira stands guard, keeping an eye on the leering townspeople while Vetnik and Trisoll wrangle the horses and keep them calm. The daylight fades into early evening, the setting sun changing the blue sky to golden red. After all the snares were laid, Thom stepped in and cast a field of Invisibility over himself while Vetnik and Trisoll concealed the goods in netting and tied the horses off to nearby trees. Grum showed Lyssa where the trigger mechanism for the snares was and covered it with grass before the pair returned to the rest of the party. Over the past few hours, Vetnik and Trisoll debated on how best to enter the castle. Once all together, it was decided that the Black brothers would enter by climbing up the mountain of debris into the castle, scouting ahead beforehand. The twins obliged; Grum scaled the rubble with cat like grace but it was his brother who struggled, twisting his ankle in such a way that it prevented from allowing him to meet his brother’s speed. The brothers treaded carefully across the rubble of the ruining tower into the damaged parapet walkway and quickly dashed towards the keep. Making their way down to the bailey, they saw only more decay and disrepair. A fountain in the center stood filled not with fresh flowing water but with mud and dying plants, the stone figure in the center so concealed by veins of ivy that its original form was too far beyond recognition.

Inside, Grum and Thom wandered, detecting no noise, and successfully busted open the first door in sight and entered into a sacked guard armory. Dust and cobweb-covered weapons and pieces of armor littered the room. To the north, four chambers. To the east, another door. In the middle between the two was a grand spiral staircase descending down below the earth. Thom approached the first door to the east and detected no noise. Grum stepped up and found the door unlocked. With his dagger, Grum poked the door open. In the dark, Grum could see rows of cots scattered throughout. On a table, flies buzzed over rotting food stuffs. Grum entered and sacked the room, but found nothing. Only lingering ephemera: a quill here, a quilt there. Grum exited the room and as he exited he, saw his brother’s ear against a chamber door. He pressed his finger to his lips as Grum approached.
“I hear a maiden, sounds like she’s talking to someone but no one is responding.” Thom whispered.
Grim kneeled down and peered through the keyhole. Inside, he spied a lone woman decked out in unpolished silver armor sitting in a dusty, damaged throne. She cradles a large, imposing broadsword in her lap while she wearily makes pleas to Celestian. She is beautiful but solemn looking; the fading light from outside shining through the large glass windows sparkled upon the brooch holding her soiled velvet cape closed: the holy symbol of Celestian!
“Stay here,” Thom ordered his brother before darting off. Across the broken stone and weeds of the bailey, Thom hurried back the dilapidated tower. Sliding down the makeshift rockslide, Thom snuck upon his party members and informed them of all they saw inside.

“Looks like we’ve discovered a blonde, Paladin muttering to herself inside.” Thom whispers to Vetnik.
“Undoubtedly the fallen Paladin of Celestian.” Vet
“I’m going to go back inside and attempt to open the proctillus, I’ll return shortly!”
The party hears Thom’s hurried footsteps rush away and in the distance, hears him climb back up through the rubble. The rest gather at the front gates waiting for their companion.

“What do you all think we ought to do with this Paladin when we find her?” Vet
“Well,” Moira begins, “we can ask her for her help. I’ll talk to her, show hr Cortex’s way and—“
“Yeah, Moira, you don’t wanna push anything on her. It’s… her choice!” Trio
“I don’t think she’s in the best place mentally.” Vet
“Yeah, it might not be the best idea.” Tris
“What about you, Lyssa? Any ideas?” Vet
“No.” Less says, not even looking up from cleaning her nails with a dagger.
“Everybody believes in different things. Trios doesn’t believe in the same things as you.”
“Well, Trisoll is… cute. But misguided.” Moira says uncomfortably. Trisoll scowls, almost offended.
“So, those who don’t believe in Cortex are misguided? That’s a shame.”
“It’s… it’s ok. Cortex doesn’t require you’re obedience. It’s true, and I can tell this paladin this!” Moira says, while Lyssa chuckles.
“Moira, I really wouldn’t recommend it.” Trisoll pleads once more.

Their debate is cut short by the creaking of the iron from broken stone. The gates rise and the party looks around, wondering how the gates are rising. They scrape against the stone and metal, sounding across the Castle. “Hurry!” Thom whispers. With daylight waning, Moira and Vetnik light their torches and following the sound of footsteps left by Thom.

Meanwhile, the sound of the gates rising echoes through the quiet castle. Grum watches as the paladin sits up and looks around the chamber. As the gate hits it hilt, the paladin takes her broadsword into her hand and cautiously stands and approaches the doors. Grim quickly goes flush against the nearby wall, hiding in the shadows, as the paladin throws open the doors.

“Who goes there?! Who’s out there?! Leave me be… the ghosts… no… the voices… NO! Show yourself!” the paladin cries out into the chamber, her voice echoing. The faint glow of torchlight approaches and the paladin swings around and positions herself.
“Anyone want to show themselves?” Lyssa jeers. “Thom?”
“I’m not showing myself!” Thom hisses back.
Moira leads the party into the chamber, torch in one hand, the other raised in a show of peace, and there they see the defensive paladin standing ready to strike. Her eyes glow in the torch light with a madness.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?! Speak, ghosts!”

The party looks to each other confused. Suddenly, Lyssa forcefully pushes Trisoll out from behind Moira towards the front. The paladin points her blade, despite seeing the golden triskelion of Trithereon embroidered across his tunic.
“Hello! We.. I don’t mean any harm. Um…”
“Why are you here?! To rob me? I have nothing for you, not even a soul to take!”
“Can we talk, is that alright? What is your name?”
“I am Morrigan Shearwood! Why do you wish to talk? I told you I have nothing! I have…” The paladin’s defensive tone weakens to soft murmuring. She relaxes her blade and sinks to the floor. “I have nothing.”
Trios cautiously approaches, palms forward. “It’s alright, I don’t want anything from you besides a moment of your time. Please, you’re among friends.” Trisoll notices her hand still upon her broadsword. “May I come a little closer?”
As Trisoll steps forward, the sullen paladin’s grip tightens around the handle of her blade as she slowly drags it up from the ground. “No,no,no! I’ll sit over here!” Trios says, retreating, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her. The paladin says nothing and keeps her head down.

“What do you mean you have nothing. It looks like you’re a paladin?”
“No more… no more. I have been forsaken.”

Moira is itching to step forward and looks to Vetnik. Vetnik shakes his head no.

“I don’t hear Celestian’s voice anymore. It’s all gone. I have nothing. The Eye…I was supposed to guard it with my life. I… I… My men, I sent them to their deaths! I did not know! And now I am cursed!”

Grum steps out of the shadows and leers behind the paladin. He waves to Moira to step forward. She does. “Hello?”

The paladin looks up and tenses up once again.

“I mean you no harm, Morrigan. I am Moira Steelshaper, a Paladin of Cortox.”
“Cortox? That symbol you wear, Paladin. The stars, what do they mean?!!”
“Cortox is the lord of all, sister. And his love encompasses the stars.”
“No…no that was influence of my god! Celestian has forsaken me! Is it not enough for the taunts, the whispers at night! Have you come to taunt and torment me, witch, with words from this false god!” Morrigan stands and takes the defensive, putting her sword between Trisoll and Moira and herself.

Vetnik approaches, his hands up as well. “Morrigan, please.” Morrigan swings and points her blade at the cavalier. “My lady, Celestian… when did you lose touch with him?”
Morrgian locks eyes with Vetnik and her hands tremble with the blade in them. “The Reunification (DATE).”
Trisoll stands and takes a similarly passive stance. “This doesn’t have to get crazy, maybe we can help you get answers!”
“Yes sister,” Moira interjects, “once you realize the power and grace of Cortox, he will be able to grant you any answers you seek!”
The party as a whole turn their eyes towards Moira in unspoken frustration. Morrigan’s trembles no more, angered by the utterance of Cortex’s name, and in a furious rage she approaches Moira. “HERETIC!” She cries out at Moira. Grum leaps forward with bow and arrows drawn. Morrigan looks back and forward frantically. “Torment me longer, cruel spirits!” she hisses, taking pause.
“Calm yourself,” Lyssa says stepping forward. Her eyes flash and immediately, Morrigan sinks back into a stupor. “Sheathe your blade,” Lyssa commands, though Morrigan is unresponsive at first. “Sheathe your blade!” Lyssa barks, less patient. Morrigan tosses her blade aside and stumbles around until squatting back down against the stone floor.
“Take the blade, take the blade!” Grum cries out to Trisoll.
Trios rushes up and reaches out to grab the blade. Picking it up with both hands, he looks at her (the weight of the blade a bit of a shock to Trisoll) and asks if it’s alright that he takes it from her. Morrigan is unresponsive.
“It’ll be fine.” Lyssa says to him. “Stand paladin!” Morrigan reluctantly does as she’s told. “What keeps you here?”
“I am cursed to be here.” she mutters.
Grum relaxes his bow and places his hand upon Morrigan’s plated shoulder as if to comfort her. “You do not have to stay cursed. Come with us, we can help you.”
“I wish that were true. So many others have died. Men and women in my charge…” she responds, her voice cracking
“Is it because of the Eye?” Vet
Morrigan says nothing, only looking to Vetnik with a hangdog expression.
“Where is the Eye now?” Lyssa asks sternly.
“Below. Beneath the castle, inaccessible to me.”
“Why inaccessible to you?” Vet
“What lies beneath the castle?” Lys
“Terrors.”
“Then you come, fight with us.”
“I cannot! I am cursed, not to enter, not to leave. At night, I hear voices taunting my cowardice.”
“Who are these voices?”
“I don’t know?”
“Is it your own voice?” Gr
“No, no… sometimes my own voice is my only comfort.”
“We are friends are we not?”
“Yes, of course!” Mor responds to Lys.
“Then you come with us.”
“I cannot! I cannot go down there, please!” Morrigan pleads, nearing the staircase.
“Come, I’ll tell you a story,” Vetnik says as he guides her along.
“I told you, I cannot! The curse, the demon below!”
“There’s a demon?!” Thom cries out
“Morrigan, I implore you. You don’t wish for your dear friend to come into harm, do you?” Lys says. Morrigan blinks and shakes her head, awakening from Lyssa’s charm. She sees Lyssa, her eyes aglow and pushes Vetnik aside. “You dare enchant me, witch! Sending me to my doom? Where is my blade!?” Morrigan looks around and sees Trisoll cradling it in his arms. Realizing she’s outnumbered, she runs across the room to a corner. “I will fend you all off, all of you with my bare hands if I must!”

“Let me tell you a story, a tale of Celestian my father once told me,” Vetnik says, once more trying to pacify the paladin. “would you like to hear it?” Morrigan slightly relaxes at the sound of Celestian’s name, her fists still trembling. “At first I didn’t believe in him, as a boy. I couldn’t fathom how so many people believed in gods like Celestian. In my kingdom, deities were not so revered. My father though, he told me the tale of how Celestian became a part of Cortox and how—“
Morrigan resumes her defensive stance, confusion washing her face. “Lies.” she whispers, “now stay away from me! Go to your doom if you must, but leave me be! And leave my sword behind, cleric, so help me Celestian…”
Trisoll around for approval from his party, unsure of what to do. Trisoll looks to Grum, unsure of what to do. Vetnik steps back and approaches Trisoll, reaching for the sword. Morrigan attempts to rush forward in the same direction, but before she can get too far, Lyssa waves her hand and slams her against the wave telekinetically suspending her up into the air. “Enough of this!” Morrigan swings and kicks but is too far up off the ground to hit.

Grum steps forward and pats Lyssa on the shoulder. “Steady her if you don’t mind?” he whispers.
“No, no you cannot!” Moira cries out. Before she can stop Grum, he fires an arrow into her. “No, Grum! This is terrible!”
“AGHHHH!” Morrigan cries out.
“I told you to watch it.” Gr
“A tad dramatic, no?” Lys
“Look, Moira, I’ll take care of her wounds. Less, keep her up there.”
“We shouldn’t do that kind of stuff!” Mo
“No, honey. You shouldn’t do that stuff!” Gr to Mo.
Thom, invisible, mocks Moira. “The true God commands you to relax!”
Grum and Lyssa chuckle while Vetnik sighs and moves past them towards the stairs. Trios reaches up to pull the arrow out but cannot reach. Morrigan passes out from exhaustion and pain.
“This is cruel.” Moira groans. “Lyssa, please bring her down?”
“No, the Hell with that! Keep her up there!” Thom interjects.
Lyssa shrugs at Moira and shoots her a cocky sneer. Moira’s frustration increases. “Please! Trisoll, Grum!”
Trisoll winces and gives up trying to reach her. Grum sheathes his bow and heads towards the staircase. “She’ll be fine there. Who knows, perhaps she’ll find Cortox’s grace while she’s up there!”
Trisoll sheepishly passes by Moira and follows Grum towards the stairs. Moira looks back to Lyssa one last time, who immediately turns her back and follows the others. “You head to your doom!” Morrigan moans to Moira, who sighs in disappointment before meeting up with the others.

The party descend the grand, stone staircase that leads into the bowels of Castle Mosshold. At the foot of the steps, they find Vetnik waiting for them. Grum leads Thom westward down a long, dark hall while the rest of the party wait with torches in hand. They continue South down it before coming up a doorway. Grum rushes back to the party while his brother listens for noises. Behind the door, he hears the whirring and clicking of mechanics (much like the machinations he heard ringing throughout Blackmoor.) Grum returns with the others and together the Blacks find that the door is untrapped and unlocked. Grum slowly cracks the door open and peers in and find a hall of horrors: shuffling behind the door are a series of five figures. Their bodies are a patchwork of various dead fleshes, their limbs and joints hinged together with strange, bronze gears and pistons. In unison, their heads swivel and turn towards the door and their jaws let loose a tinny groan! Just as Grum closes the door behind him, he looks up to the ceiling above the mechanical zombies and sees a strange, gelatinous blob of yellow ochre dripping and writhing. Grum rushes to try and lock the door with his lock picking skills but fails.
“Well, time to run now!” Gr
“What’s wrong?” Mo
“Well, the mechanical zombies—“ Gr
“Zombies?!” Tri
“Yes, behind this door, let’s go!” Gr
The door is pounded into splinters and the zombies burst through, the scraping of unlubricated gears echoing against the cold stone walls. Thom whips his drum out and begins to bang a beat out under the veil of invisibility, bestowing a charm to the party. Moira steps forward and rushes the zombies pouring out into the hall with her longsword.
“Out of the way!” Lyssa cries out to Moira who’s busy cutting down a zombie. She summons a small glowing orb of fire and concentrates on sending it through the throng of zombies. The glowing orb grows and grows until reaching the middle of the zombie crowd, where it reaches full blossom and explodes, setting fire to both the zombies. The jelly drips down its yellow ochre goo onto the zombies who continue to rage forward. Grum rushes forward with Lyn and Slå and jams them into one of the undead machinations; the daggers surge with cyan blue energy and the party watches as the zombie lights up from within, sparks of electricity bouncing off the metal pieces causing them to slag and fuse to the corpse skin. When Grum pulls them out, the blue glow is gone — much to Grum’s disappointment. Trisoll, spying the slagging metal caused by Grum’s electric blades, decides to stand back and concentrate on the metal lining their bodies. The mecha-zombies keep rushing forward, taking aggressive interest in Moira. They crash down upon her with blind fury, throwing their mechanically-enhanced limbs into her, knocking her around. Moira is able to parry one of the zombies by knocking the gears in its arm out of place! Vetnik fends off a zombie but is clubbed by one.

The zombies break through the frontline of defenders (Moira, Vetnik, and Grum) and set their sights on the others. One clubs Grum while another falls to the ground stunned while Grum tears its loosely-hinged arm off. A second mecha-zombie attempts to strike Grum but the half-elf is nimble and dart out of the way, causing the zombie to fall stunned to the ground. Grum pauses and takes notice of the metal parts of his attackers: he sees them begin to sear and burn; he turns back to see Trisoll’s eyes closed and hand extended, heating up with glowing heat energy. Vetnik is far too caught up in the throws of battle and, as he swings his longsword, his shoulder piece becomes unhinged and interrupts his blow. Lyssa pays special attention to the stunned mecha-zombies and casts burning hands over them but she struggles to conjure more intense flames. Moira takes two swings at the mecha-zombies and only manages to make one. Thom continues to drum and rushes past the combat into the next hall, through the dripping tendrils of ochre jelly. Inside, he sees gold littering the floor of the room. Trisoll’s lowers his searing red hand and opens his eyes; glazed over and white, he utters the blessing of Trithereon:

“To thine own self be true!”

With renewed vigor, Vetnik charges at a standing zombie but misses. A nearby zombie swings at Lyssa, but misses twice. The second charges after Moira and bashes her in the skull with its armor-plated fist. Lyssa, seeing Moira exhausted from the abuse at the hands of the mecha-zombies, creates an invisible shield around her! Thom watches from the safety of the next room, invisible and continuing to pound away at his drums (in a nearby corner, he spots a carved ivory coffer). Grum drops Lyn and Slå and draws his longsword, but as he pulls it out he slips and falls to one knee, wildly slicing into Trisoll! Trisoll shrieks out in agony as Grum cuts through his leg. Moira cuts at a zombie and watches as the metal parts of the creature continue to heat up until red hot, causing one of the fallen zombies to slag and stop moving. Trisoll limps over to Moira and places his hands upon her, healing what wounds of hers he can.

Steeled, Moira slices twice at a mecha-zombie and cuts it down to shreds. It collapses to the ground and writhes, the gears and pistons making up for movement. A badly burned zombie rises from the ground but Vetnik swings around and jams his longsword into him, knocking it back with a mighty blow. Grum takes on the most mobile of the zombies and cuts into it with both a longsword and handaxe, bringing it to the brink of true death. Thom sneaks back past through the dripping jelly and yanks out an important gear of one of the zombies, causing it to collapse. The last two standing zombies attempt to strike Thom and Trisoll but both miss. Lyssa pulls a random dagger from her holster and pulls out the red glass blade from Athas, jamming it into the zombie. As the blade pierces the zombie’s skull, a sudden wave of intense warmth fills the two rooms. She pulls the blade out and sees sweat begin to collect on everyone’s brows — especially on Vetnik and Moira, who become visibly more uncomfortable. Vetnik swings and misses the first but he fells the second shambling machination. Moira sees the last one standing and cuts it down.

In the next room, the party sees puss-like dripping goo slowly drip down from the ceiling and slither to the ground. It collects into a pile and as it reconstitutes, Lyssa steps forward and blasts it with another wave of burning hands. The ochre jelly recoils and does its best to crawl away from the jet of fire.
“Does anyone know anything about these kinds of creatures?!” Moira cries out.
“Don’t let it touch you!” Vetnik replies.
Seeing the adverse reaction to Lyssa’s burning hands, both Vetnik and Moira pick up their torches and jab at the jelly with them. Grum passes his arrowtip through Vetnik’s torch and shoots a flaming arrow into the ooze. Together, they watch as it explodes into a mess of semi-transparent yellow tendrils that melt into the cracks of the floor. Once dissolved, the party enter the room and scoop up the found gold in the now-empty room. Thom picks up the ivory coffer looks it over: a battle scene is carved into it, with locks and hinges made of gold, but realizes it alone is not worth much. With no traps on the hinge, Thom cautiously opens and finds nothing inside. He pockets it and together the party continue West.

They find the door not trapped nor locked. Swinging it open, Grum sees only a long, dark hallway. He scouts ahead by himself, his half-elf eyes finding the the end of the hall splitting off into three directions, each of which are unlit and continue on. He whistles for them to meet up at the bend. They continue on together, Grum at the front and head North. They continue down the winding hall until coming upon a great, wooden door. Thom hears nothing, Grum however finds traps on the door. He successfully removes the trigger mechanism, but is unsure of its make or effect. He finds the door unlocked and he presses it open. In the center of the room, he sees a rotting corpse in leather armor, its hand outstretched. As he opens the door more and the other empty in, they see a pattern drawn in sand in the center of the room: a giant pentagram. Grum inspects the corpse and finds a small locket around its neck. He pops it open and sees the portrait of a beautiful, young brunette in simple robing. Lyssa inspects the pentagram and feels the ruddy-colored sand between her fingers. She looks over at the corpse and sees that the hand of corpse has broken through the mystic symbol.
“May Cortox guide you,” Moira whispers over the corpse. She stands and looks around the bare, undecorated room. Evil still vibrates throughout the room, which causes Moira to shudder. “Come, we should move on.”
Grum pockets the locket and leads the party down another long hallway westwards out of the ritual room. Just ahead, he sees the hall break off in opposite directions. They turn left and see a door at the end; the brothers make their checks on it and, as Thom presses his ears against the wood. Beyond the footsteps, he hears a series of voices speaking in foreign tongues. He concentrates and casts Comprehend Languages, and as the spell takes hold, he realizes the origin much to his shock. He almost immediately recoils, feeling his mind swell with horrid voices from the Abyss.
“No, no, no, no!” he mutters to himself, shaking his head as he heads away from the door.
“What? What is it?” Moira asks trying to calm him, Grum approaching attempting to do the same.
“What’s in there?” Lys
“I’m not going in there! I’ll drum out here, but I am not going in there!” Tho
“What did you hear?”
“There’s some intense evil behind that door!” Moira confirms, feeling the demonic presences.
As Moira and Grum do their best to calm the frantic Thom, Lyssa approaches the grand wooden doors and holds her palms to them. Her eyes flaring with chaos energy, she channels the energy through her hands and attempts to cast Knock. Suddenly, the energy is send recoiling back up through her arms and the chaos energy leaves her eyes. Lyssa steps back and looks at her hands and then the door. She turns to the others and as she opens her mouth to speak, the others stare back at her confused.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Vetnik and Thom were the first to wake in the lavishly decorated Comeback Inn. Looking out from his room, the blue conical gas lamps that illuminated the streets of Blackmoor Town had been extinguished. The sun lit the smoky haze of sky across town, creating a surreal horizon.
“Good morn’!” Thom greeted Vetnik as they mutually exited their rooms. “What’re the plans for the day?”
“We still have more traveling to do.”
“Seen any of the others yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Very well then, I’m going to scout out some breakfast! Care to join me?”
“In a moment. I’m going to wait for the others to wake,” Vetnik says before returning to his room. He looks out across the Blackmoor Town once more, taking special interest in the strange mechanics that seem to permeate the bustling town.

Thom headed downstairs and was slowly hit with the fragrant scents of luxurious foodstuffs. In all his travels and his days spent as both a sovereign’s child and as an extended member of the Lyks family, none of the breakfast scents he’d encountered rivaled these! The menu was curated with a selection of foods as pricey as they were revered for their deliciousness. From the menu, Thom selected the modest spread and sat among the other patrons who all shared a similarly quiet enthusiasm for the food.

Lyssa’s wakeup was much more base in contrast. Dwarven cuisine filled the entirety of the hotel. Mutton and beer-boiled root vegetables were on the menu. Lyssa armed herself and sauntered downstairs. Before leaving, Lyssa approached the front desk where an unfamiliar Dwarf made his post.
“Can I help ya, lass?”
“Um, yes. There was another man here who checked me in last night.”
“Aye, he’s the nightman. He won’t be in until the evening.”
“I see,” Lyssa said, struggling to fabricate a story.
“Anything you want me to pass along?”
“No, just let him know I’ll be keeping my room indefinitely.”
“Very well, and what name should I give him?”
Lyssa paused once more, realizing the misstep of last night’s spell. “Just let him know the room on the third floor will be occupied.”
“Alright,” the innkeeper began, puzzled by her evasive answers. “It’d be easier to just give him the name in the leger.”
“No… I’ll just come back later!” Lyssa responded in a contained fluster before heading out of the inn.

Outside, Lyssa passed the guard house packed with humans and dwarves. Nearing the Comeback Inn, she spotted a large stone fountain. Upon further inspection, she noticed sitting atop the pillar in the middle of the fountain was a symbol. The symbol, she observed, was made of three large bones woven together with metal wire; the symbol of the Unlooked For, Ralishaz, god of misfortune and insanity. Relief and worry crossed her mind looking at both the fountain and the Inn: relief that she’d not stayed but worry for those that did.

Grum awoke and, as he exited his room, ran into Vetnik who was readying himself to meet with the other Black brother.
“Good morning, Grum. Your brother is downstairs having from what I can smell a most delicious breakfast.”
“Oh perfect, are you—“
“I’m going to wait for the others to wake, but I’ll meet you down there.”
Grum patted the cavalier on his shoulder and went on his way to meet with his brother. Soon after, Moira exited her room and both warriors stood in the hall, across from each other, their eyes locked for a moment. Vetnik smiled and Moira smiled back.
“Oh, good morning Vetnik. Where is everyone?” Moira said, bunching her robe across her chest.
“Grum and Thom are downstairs having some breakfast and I was going to go make sure Trisoll was still alive.”
Moira chuckled. “I’m surprised I slept so long. These past few weeks have taken a lot more out of me then I expected.”
“We have to rest whenever we can. Sleep is precious.”
Moira nodded in agreement. “Well, I—“
“I’m going to go make sure Trisoll—“
“Of course.” Moira turned and began to make her way downstairs, but not before smiling back at Vetnik one more time. Vetnik watched, suspended briefly by her charm, before heading to find the last of his companions: Trisoll.

Vetnik casually made his way down to the last room in the hall. He opened the door to find the sinewy, nude body of Trisoll, face down, his booted feet dangling off the edge and covered in little else than morning light. Vetnik averted his eyes as he approached. He bent down, picked up his faded teal tunic and tossed it across his naked body. Vetnik approached Trisoll, gently kicking his booted foot.
“Grrr” the cleric growled, his voice muffled by dense, down-stuffed pillows. Unsatisfied with his response, Vetnik quickly yanked at his leg from the ankle.
“Duh…da…dad, stop… get George to get me some tea…”
“Trisoll!” Vetnik barked.
“I’m up! I’m up!” Trisoll mumbled, lifting his shaggy head from the pillows. He turned around to see Vetnik standing over him and his tunic draped over the back of his body. Slight embarrassment crossed his face but the tangle of brown hair masked it. “Give me a minute!”
“I’m sure the kitchen has something for your hangover.”
“Can I meet you downstairs?”
“Of course,” Vetnik replied with a smirk. He left the cleric to compose himself and soon joined the twins and Moira for a richly curated morning meal.

Lyssa continued through the town, the morning crowds passing to and fro through the city streets. The sound of metal on metal filled the air at every turn. One of the more remarkable sights was what appeared to be a long, rectangular building. While its outside was smooth and undecorated, large rod-iron glass windows made for more detailed viewing. Down the middle was an open-air hall that cut through the center of the structure and opened out to the opposite end. As Lyssa closed in on the building, the commotion of metallic noises was coupled with heated academic discussions. On one side, blackened iron mannequins lined the walls and ranged in size from human to dwarf to gnome, their frames covered in armors in a variety of metals. On the opposite end, Lyssa spied a room filled with tradesmen barking back and forth at one another over some unknown project. Men waved around parchments with strange, intricate drawings of blades on them. Above them and on the walls were even more strange weapons: axes, swords, daggers, dirks, and hammers crafted from similar metals and featuring similar mechanical componentry. The noise and smoky air were all a bit much for Lyssa, but she was curious despite the aural pollutants.

Just across the way was a more familiar site: a bazaar! Approaching it, she felt a void of magical energy at every turn. In place of magical items, she found crude baubles, gear-powered trinkets, and hearty meats and vegetables that reminded her of the stagnant scents of The Fetch. Gnomes made up most of the vendor count, whose stout tables were covered in exotic metal items whose aesthetic echoed the armor and weapons she spied back at the hall. Lyssa approached a booth decorated with daggers and manned by a solitary Gnome. The weapons on display were more traditional in their make, which was an odd contrast to many of the vendors Lyssa passed.
“You need weapon?” the Gnome asked in a rushed voice. “You need dagger?”
“What… else do you have?” Lyssa replied.
“I show you something very special,” the Gnome said, reaching underneath the table. A moment later, he returned to sight with an armored case, which he set before her. He opened and revealed its contents: a pair of daggers affixed with the ever-present gears and crude mechanical flourishes found in Blackmoor. The Gnome lifted the first one up out of the case with remarkably clean hands; its handle was made of brass, with small gears in place of quillion with each gear tethered to thin, brass chains that disappeared into the blade’s handle. “You watch!” he requested with excitement. He clicked a small notch in the handle, which activated the gears and, much to Lyssa’s surprise, the blade extended to the length of the dirk blade! The Gnome flipped the switch once more and the blade quickly returned to its original length.
“What about the other one?” Lyssa asked, eyeing the other dagger.
“You pass? You don’t like?”
“I’m just keeping my options open,” Lyssa responded with a slight smirk. The Gnome smiled back as he excitedly pulled the other dagger from the case. “You see, you like!”
The dagger itself was similar in make to the other, but instead of geared crossguard there were two small tanks. He aimed the blade with one hand at a well-worn wooden dartboard hanging amidst the more common blades. He pressed the tanks and with a slight click, the dagger blade shot out of its handle and into the target. Lyssa’s eyes lit up even more, intrigued by these designs.
“How much for both?”
“Hurm,” the Gnome began to ponder as he pulled the blade out from the target. He stood before her and secured the blade back into the handle. “150 gold!”
Lyssa leaned in, her eyes locked on his. As she gazed into his eyes and did her best to tap into his mind with a charm spell, she could feel another force blocking the connection. The Gnome sighed and quickly placed the projectile dagger back into the case and hurriedly locked and hid the case from sight. “I no sell!” he said, coming back up from beneath the table. He wiggled his tiny digits in front of her face and, around his stubby middle finger, he flashed a thick silver ring embossed with protection runes. “No charm, no buy!” he proclaimed, stepping down from the table and returning back to his chair. “Hogin no one’s lackey!” he called out, staring her down with crossed arms.
“You’re no fun,” Lyssa replied, and with her attempt to acquire exotic blades failed, she made her way back towards The Fetch.

Before leaving, she came upon another booth manned by a stout and hair Dwarf. Behind him were jars of strange of what appeared to be various dirts and ground minerals, none of which bore labels. Some were singular in color while others sparkled in the sunshine. The Dwarf approached a visibly curious Lyssa. “Galabin Earthfoot’s the name! What can I do fer ya?” he called out to her with a smile.
“I’m not so sure,” Lyssa replied struggling to figure out what the strange earthen components were, “what are you selling?”
“Have a look here,” he said, waving her in closer. She watched as he reached into a nearby jar filled with a marbled mixture of crystal-white dust and carbon black dirt. He tossed a handful across his anvil, picked up a nearby hammer, and as the hammer smashed against the dirt-covered metal, a series of sparks shot up like fireworks, flashing and popping into the air.
“I’m more in the market for potions or poisons. Have any of those?”
“’fraid not.”
“Well, can you tell me what they do?” she asked, continuing to decipher the Dwarven nomenclature with no success.
“They all have different effects. Some when mixed together, some when used with other things,” he said, continuing to smile. “Mined straight from the World Wound these are!”
“I can’t buy anything without knowing what it does!”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I am my own sense of adventure.”
“Hahahaha!”
“I’m not a gambling woman, at least not with my coin.” With that Lyssa, turned away and left the cheery Dwarf to his dirts. As she turned around, her step was interrupted by yet another weird, mechanical sight: a gnome sitting atop a horse-carriage, tugging at levers and twisting at gears. “Watch it!” he cried out to her as he adjusted the gears and began to roll away, swiveling in reverse. Lyssa stood there in the street and watched as other similar carts made their way through the morning crowds of people filling the streets.
Grum sat with his brother and Moira in the dining area of the Comeback Inn. Between them were a dozen plates crafted of the finest china, each of them adorned with small tastings of foods from all over the realm — from Furyondy to the Wild Coast to the tropical Olman Islands. Meats, seafoods, fruits, all exceptionally fresh (especially considering the distance many of the ingredients traveled!) Thom and Moira sipped on tea and nibbled on their more modest breakfasts, watching their companion indulge with chilidlike gluttony. Trisoll and Vetnik were the last to join and in doing so, Trisoll stumbled into frame, his hair still a shaggy mess and his eyes puffy and dark from what could have only been yet another night of indulgence.
“I take it you all went to sleep last night?” Trisoll groggily asked.
“Indeed,” Thom replied with a devilish smile.
Trisoll shuffled to the seat nearest him, next to Moira, and placed his arms onto the available tabletop, cradling his head between them.
“Some of us, yes,” Vetnik jeered, taking a seat across from Moira, who once again greeted him with a familiar smile.
“Ha! I didn’t even make it further than The Dark Below. That’ll teach me to challenge Dwarves in drinking again.”
Trisoll lifted his head and loudly sniffed at the air wafting from Grum’s direction. “Whoa, what is that?”
Grum took a moment and looked at Trisoll, his mouth half-full with Ahlissian blood sausage. “He ordered from the tasting menu,” Moira interjected, allowing her friend to finish his bite.
“I know what I’m having,” Trisoll exclaimed, waving over the Innkeeper.

As Lyssa continued back towards The Fetch, her curiosity for the foreign kingdom’s mechanical intricacies dictated her pace and her path. Passing the human ghettos and various Dwarven food sellers, she continued across to the other end of the large, hollow building. On one end, she could see bards tuning their instruments and collaborating on written verses, all of which were of little interest to her. The space opposite was another matter: walls decorated in large parchments with almost indecipherable mechanical drawings. While Lyssa had some experience in the creation and assembly of common modes of transport, these designs were unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Horse-less carts, boats that appeared to move without need of rowers, and even carriages with wing-like appendages! The men and women inside all seemed to deep into their work, drafting more designs and comparing and debating different components. In the distance she spotted another curious sight. At the base of the mountains were masses of man-made caves, some with modest entrances, others with more intricate entryways carved with Dwarven idols and runes. While the city was filled with much in the way of exciting new technology to gawk at, there was a coldness to it all. She realized, as she continued back towards The Fetch, that that coldness was a lack of magic, and that for a town so big and having walked a good chunk of it, there was no University or Mages’ Guild to be found.

Grum and Trisoll had finished their breakfasts and all felt ready to take on Blackmoor Town with renewed energy (especially Trisoll!) Together, they began to tackle the day’s mission: find out as much as they can about the Eye of Null.
“We’re going to have to chase some leads,” Trisoll joked. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get much out of anyone beyond Dwarven limericks at The Dark Below.”
“Well, now’s as good a time as any to go out and see what Blackmoor Town has to offer!” Thom declared, putting his coin down for his share of the stay. The others followed suit – Vetnik putting in for both he and Trisoll, who despite claims of not having lost all of his money during the prior evening’s binge, seemed to come up short when it came time to pay.

After being “escorted” from the Inn, the party continued through Blackmoor Town, which had become even busier since Lyssa began wandering about. The first landmark to catch their eyes was the fountain to Ralishaz, which stirred a quiet range of reactions in the party (from Thom’s curiosity to Moira’s worry.) Beyond that, Trisoll was the first to notice a circular structure in the center of town. It stood out like an organic oddity in a city filled with brass and iron. Its walls were an exoskeleton of wooden branches and vines that webbed between stone pillars, twisted and manipulated directly from the earth. Underneath the vines were runes carved into the stone. As Trisoll approached, he began to realize that runes were unknown to him.
Trisoll approached the structure, blatant confusion covering his face. He began to mutter to himself, “Druidic circle? I could’ve just asked father about a Way of the World here.”
“Maybe there’s a reason why he didn’t?” Vetnik chimed in.
“Hold on, I’ve got questions,” Trisoll said, breaking away from the rest of the party. Vetnik tailed him inside while the others waited.
Inside, the sun beamed in through the old branches and created light patterns across every surface of the circle. The runes and decorations continued to perplex Trisoll, all of which seemed foreign to him. A cool breeze blew through the circle and, as if appearing from nothing, a figure stepped out to greet them. She stood tall and stoic, with long blonde hair billowing in the breeze. Her face was decorated in red clay paint that seemed to bleed into her hair, while thin vines slid and clung to her body like tiny serpents moving across her milky skin.
“Hello, I am Favilla Moonspring. I am the Keeper of this Circle. What can I do for you today, visitor?”
“Yes, um, so this is a Druidic Circle. Why isn’t this one of the Ways of the World?
“How do you know of the Ways of the World?”
“Oh, my father is a druid!”
“Your father?”
Vetnik rubbed his brow in frustration over his friend’s less than courteous tone. “Zemilay Lyks, milady.”
Favilla approached the pair closer, the vines slithering with every move. “Oh? A Beoryian druid, yes?”
“Yes,” the pair replied, both sort of transfixed by both the allure of the druidess and the peculiarity of the living plants adorning her body.
“You see, this is a Druidic Circle of the Old Faith. Our connection to the realm is much different than those of his kind. Blackmoor is a town nearly bereft of magic, so things like that do not function here.”
“Thank you, milady,” Vetnik says tipping his head to her, “we shant disturb you any more.”
“Very well. Tell your father Favilla Moonspring,” the druidess takes a pause before turning to Vetnik, “Better yet, good sir knight, let Zemilay Lyks that Favilla Moonspring sends her warmest regards.”
While Vetnik bows to the druidess, Trisoll does so too with a defeated pout across his face.

Trisoll and Vet reemerge, Trisoll feeling humiliated.
“She said there’s no magic here.”
“We could have gotten more, but Trisoll’s approach was less than tactful.”
“Here’s the thing, we have something to go on! Look at it that way. Just because we’re not detecting any magic, doesn’t mean there isn’t any.” Gr
Moira is first to notice Lyssa off in the distance. “Lyssa!”
“How was your stay? Did you find an Inn?”
“Opposite end of the Comeback.”
“It was enough. It wasn’t a magical prison.”
“Prison?! Lyssa, it one of was the most beautiful lodges I’ve ever stayed in. It was amazing!”
“Yea, ok… I’m glad you all had a great time.”
“Next time, just pay up front. It’ll feel less like a prison.” Th
“Next time, don’t expect me to stay in a place I can’t leave out of on my own accord.”
Trom laughs. “Fair enough. Find anything on your walk?”
“Yes, a bazaar on the edge of town. Odd machines everywhere, stuff I’ve never seen. There were some kind of smithing classes in the middle of town though, but I haven’t found a Mages’ Guild.”
“No mages’ guild?” Tri
“None that I could find. Nor were there any traces of magical components at the bazaar. Just strange trinkets and dirt from the World’s Wound, whatever that is. As far as I can tell, there’s not much here in the way of magic.”
“Should we keep scouting then?” Vet
“Maybe you guys can go back and ask the druid?” Gr
“Not me, she made me feel like shit.” Tri
“Well that happens some times.” Th
“I told her who my dad was, and she didn’t even care.” Tr
“Maybe she didn’t!” Th
Trisoll pauses and grumbles to himself. Lyssa sniffs in Trisoll’s direction. “Perhaps it’s because you still reak of Dwarven ale?”
Trisoll tries to casually sniff at his tunic, questioning whether or not he does.
“What’s this about splitting up?” Lys
“Well, I wanted to go see if there’s any legend masters in the city.” Th
“There seemed to be a barding class taking place down across town.” Lys
“Who’s going with me?” Th
“Well, I’m definitely not going to see Favilla Moonspring again!” Tri
“Fine, I’ll go,” Vetnik says stomping off.
The Blacks and Trisoll make their way towards the hall. Lyssa waits and sees Moira begin to head towards the circle, so Lyssa follows behind.

On the way to the hall, Trisoll and Thom banter about Trisoll’s perceived nature. Trisoll pouts but not in an overbearing way. “I get it they don’t like me.”
“Who doesn’t like you?”
“…Them!”
“So what?”
“Well, that’s how I feel.”
“Listen, our father was a politician in one of the largest free cities in the realm. Half the town on a good day hated him. It’s their opinion and it will be with them when they leave, do bring it with you.”
“You’re right, why should I bother caring! Wise advise, Thom!” Trisoll smiles and jokes about the importance of the druidess (or lack thereof for him.)
The bros and Trisoll enter the hall and see a class/performance in session. They notice a great deal of Halflings watching, more than they’ve seen out in the streets.
On the largest stage, a small gnomish woman of astoundingly delicate beauty plays her fiddle with hypnotic expertise. She is a master bard, one who Thom is clearly astounded by. She wraps the performance with a talk on her technique, which inspires Thom and gleans new insight into compositional theory. Another gnome greets Thom. “Welcome to the Bard College!”
“Greetings! I’m actually looking for someone who might have some information about an artifact for me. The Eye of Null?”
“Eye of Null? I know no such object, but perhaps Mistress Midwin might?”
The gnome goes to fetch her and she returns. “Hello, I’m Taddis Midwin. I am head instructor here at the bard school. I hear you’re seeking information on an artifact?”
“Yes, the Eye of Null. It’s an enigma to me and my companions.”
She strokes her chin. “Hurm, why is it you seek it?”
“The University of Magic in Greyhawk, they’ve sent us to recover information on it.”
“I’ve heard of them even up here. They’re a great and powerful guild. What interest could they possibly have in it?”
“We do not know.”
“It’s for them to know and us to find out,” Grum jokes.
“I see you’re a bard yourself?”
“Yes, the drums.”
“I’d love to see an example of your skill.” Thom drums a positive, upbeat tune. Lighthearted but not racous. Taddwin leans in.
“I like that you kept it light and pleasant. That pleases me.”
“We aren’t in the heat of battle!”
“You’re funny. Would you like to get a drink? I’m concluded here with my lessons—”
“Um… mayhaps.”
“If you’d like to join me for one now.”
“Potentially. I would like to know the Eye of Null a little more.”
“I’d be happy to discuss it with you.”
“Well, grab some of your cohorts and we can all mingle and discuss it over drinks.”
“Nonono,”
“No?”
“There’s no need to bring all these other people with.”
“Um…” Thom stumbles over his words. “There’s things I must attend to, but come see me this evening at The Comeback Inn. Ask for Thomas Drum.”
She smiles. “I will.”
Trisoll and Grum just watched, wide-eyed. “It’s like we weren’t even here.” Tri
“Why is it Vetnik and Thom have no problem, but Trisoll the nice guy!”
“Lightning strikes at random, friend. But keep trying. Games of the heart are best fought actively.”
“I’ve never bedded a gnome before!”
“Well, definitely report back, brother” Gr
The boys head out of the bard college and peruse the hall. They see similar weapons to ones found by Lyssa in the bazaar being crafted and tested on. They see similar innovations happening in the armory and mechanics classes.

At the Druids, Vetnik, Lyssa, and Moira visit Favilla once more. She appears exasperated by Vetnik’s return. “My time is short, sir.”
“My apologies, milady. I had a couple questions regarding what you said earlier.”
“Very well. You were thoughtful enough to not bring back your brutish companion. Your questions?”
Moira bristles at Favilla’s shade towards her friend, Trisoll. Lyssa observes, thinking the druidess is uptight and unapproachable.
“I was wondering why is the city is so lacking in magic?”
“Two reasons. The Egg of Coot in the NW, the forces of the egg… the egg itself comes from evil, primordial magics.”
“What’s inside the egg? Lys
“The egg is pure evil. A being from the Outer Planes.”
“What being?” Lys
“That I cannot say. Legend has it it’s an orb, an obelisk of flesh with hateful, gaping mouths.”
“How far away is it?” Vet
“8 miles. There is also Mosshole, that likewise exhibits no signs of magic. Yet, it’s no by Blackmoor’s intention.”
“What is Blackmoor using to keep magic at bay?” Lys
“Blackmoor needs nothing, what with Hell’s Heart open.”
“What is Hell’s Heart?” Lys
“I thought you said you had only a few questions” Favilla snaps at Vetnik.
“He had a few questions, I have more” Lyssa snaps back. Vetnik approaches, trying to block Lyssa from view.
“Perhaps we can compensate you for your time and thoughtful insight?”
“Perhaps a donation then. Say, 50gp.”
“Done.”
“More about Hell’s Heart.” Lys
“It is a hole through to the hollow earth and beyond. The Dwarves and Gnomes have carved it through!”
“So, how does that effect the magic though?”
“There are a number of energies that conflict with each other and—” Favilla looks the trio over and switches her train of thought. “Where did you three stay when you came to town. You’re not from here but you’re obviously well-rested.”
“The Comeback Inn,” Vet
“The Fetch.” Lys
“Oh?”
“I don’t trust a staying in a place with that kind of oppressive magic.”
“Funny you say that. The basement of the Comeback Inn was once the home to a hole in time and space, a rift in reality if you will. It’s been highly unstable since The Reunification of Cortox.”
Moira’s eyes widen. “How long has it been there?”
“Since before this town was built.”
“What do you mean by unstable?” Lys
“It’s hard to explain, there’s a chaos that swirls around it.”
“What about that fountain up by the Inn, devoted to Ralishaz?” Lys
“That? That’s merely a sight for tourists, a wishing well.”
“Seems to me like a tribute to a god of madness would be some kind of significance to consider?” Mo
“There’s no temple to him here.”
“There may be cults.” Lys
“They would not escape my gaze. I have eyes and ears all over this city. The rift is something much older, much more primordial.”
“What about the Eye of Null. What do you know of that?” Lys
“Only that it is an item of legend known to dampen magics.”
“I would think someone with such a wide reach and their ear so firmly pressed to the ground would have more than heresay?”
“My concerns are not yours, mage. An orb that cancels that magic of your kind is insignificant to me. Now, if we were to carry on this conversation perhaps a larger donation is in order.”
“Not if you don’t have anymore information.”
“Pardon me?”
Vetnik steps between them with more authority. “Fair enough. We will be on our way, thank you for what information you’ve been able to provide.”
Lyssa rolls her eyes at the druidess and turns away, muttering under her breath as she heads towards the exit. “What are we to expect from some robeless tart?”
Favilla cocks her head and lifts her arm. As she does, the vines slowly slithering across her body quickly concentrate and gather around her extended arm, forming a gauntlet with extended claws. Suddenly, the dry earth bursts forth beneath and behind Lyssa and five whipping roots burst forth and grab at her legs. They constrict her into place.
“Please, stop! My apologies,” Vetnik pleads.
“You have not offended me, sir knight.”
“I’m sorry for my companion’s behavior. It reflects upon me—“
“Indeed it does reflect upon you. I would expect a man of your station to associate with those with more… decorum.” Favilla responds, undoing the mass of roots entangling Lyssa. The vines around her arm disperse back all over her body.
“Sadly, milady, it seems you’re committed to your post and are unavailable to accompany me.” Vetnik says, ushering Moira and Lyssa out of the Circle.
“Hmph, charmer.” Favilla responds with disdain.

The Blacks and Trisoll finish up at the hall to find the others. Trisoll looks for a bird to call and spots on in the sky. He tries to connect with it telepathically, but as it gets closer, he realizes it’s a mechanical bird. His reaction is one of outrage. “Why would you even make something like that? What does it even do?! Does it shit molten metal?”
“I don’t know, but what would Tic Toc think if he heard you talking like that?”
Trisoll looks shamed once again. “Oh, you’re absolutely right! I don’t give you enough credit for being the voice of reason! You’re a gentleman of wisdom.”
“We just need to get you to Ilsa’s House of Comfort when we get back.”
“I just need to get out of here. The aridness, the smoke; I’m so used to the fresh forest air, this is really getting me down.”
The brothers and Trisoll meet up with the others. Vetnik fills them in on what transpired at the Circle. “At least she thought I was a charmer.”
“I don’t think she really meant—“ Mo
“I know, Moira.”
“Yeah, I advise next time you both let the more charismatic of the three speak first next time.” Th
“Oh I’m sorry, was the druidess not nice to either of you? Surprise!”
“Well, at least we got a little more information about what’s going on in this town.” Vet
“Yeah, well that’s nothing compared to what went down at the Bard college. Thom totally got picked up by the professor there, this Gnomish woman.” Tri
“Size matters not!” Thom jokes.
“At any rate, did you all find anything out?” Mo
“Not much, but we did find the hall that Lyssa spoke of. A whole series of colleges devoted to creating strange devices and armor, even weapons!” Th
“Yeah, well those weapons will cost you an arm and a leg at the bazaar.” Lys
“What else did you all find out?” Tri
“Well, the druidess did speak of certain areas to the North. Legends of an egg containing an ancient evil, a village devoid of magic, and Hell’s Heart.” Vet
“What is Hell’s Heart?” Tri
“A hole, dug by the dwarves and gnomes who live here. It goes straight through into ‘the hollow earth and beyond’.” Ve
“Whoa? A hollow earth?” Tri
“And beyond. I’m as perplexed as the rest of you.” Vet
“What… how is that even possible? Where does that even go?” Tr
“Considering the Inn you’ve been staying at is built on top of an interdimensional rift, I’d say that there’s a lot that’s possible here in Blackmoor.” Lys
“Whoa… and we’re staying there?” Tri
“It was the last thing standing after the Great War, whatever magic is there has sustained and protected that hotel.” Vet
“Well, it is a beautiful place.” Tri

They all visit bazaar together. Lyssa shapeshifts into a halfling (a previously unseen ability). Trisoll is able to haggle the previously spurned dagger dealer down to a reasonable price for the projectile blade. Thom finds a mechanical radial bow that fires 3 bolts that covers a 13ft wave and Thom tries to haggle but fails. Trisoll succeeds and Thom walks away with it.

Newly armed, Thom breaks away from the party to drill the gnomish bard teacher for information at The Comeback Inn. Trisoll and Vetnik visit the Dark Below to listen in on the patrons and enjoy some drinks of their own (Trisoll moreso than Vetnik.) Lyssa, Moira, Grum head to the post overlooking Hell’s Heart at Moira’s behest. Lyssa breaks them in with magic and Moira steps in to ease the guards. While they wait, Lyssa floats down towards the hole into the earth and enters it. She comes out feeling residual magical energy clinging to her and her items.

Thom woos the bard teacher up to a private room and loosens her up with wine and fineries. The bard teacher also sees Thom’s art supplies out. He gets her to pose for him and they talk and she reveals that the Eye of Null can permanently wipe magic from an area away, last seen in Mosshold — a once bustling seaport now in ruins now under the protection of a fallen paladin of Celestian. After talk of business, the two remain in his room for more intimate relations.

Trisoll and Vetnik find little in the way of useful info at The Dark Below and they visit the eatery across the street. There, Trisoll meets a lovely and naive Dwarven waitress.

Vetnik leaves the eatery and as he’s walking, a large flash of colored lights and loud crashing sound booms through the town in the direction of the Comeback Inn. Vetnik rushes over there and finds Moira, Lyssa, and Grum. While they watch the chaos of people surrounding the Inn, Vetnik begins to argue with Lyssa about going in to find out what happened; Vetnik urges them to go inside while Lyssa is vocally against it. Suddenly, during their banter, Lyssa begins to experience an uncontrollable fit of contradiction. Compelled, she enters the Inn and makes a bee line straight for the basement. Vetnik rushes in to catch up with her. Down in the basement, Vetnik sees Lyssa approach a wall in the basement now flashing with light and waves of energy. Lyssa moves to it, hands forward, and as she puts her hands through it the bloody runes drawn on by I’rak’ul reappear and burn with red energy. Suddenly, the pair are knocked off their feet and come to to a scorched basement, no light, and no bloody runes. The Innkeeper drags them upstairs for interrogation, which neither of them are willing to engage in. Both are kicked out and reunited with the party (sans Thom) they head to The Fetch.

At The Fetch, Lyssa attempts to get free rooms for all but Moira protests her trickery. Lyssa argues you with her to keep her coin but finally Vetnik snaps at both of them and offers to pay himself. Moira stomps away; Lyssa tells Vetnik to stop being a “white knight” and follows her. Vetnik pays for their rooms and shares a drink with the charmed Innkeeper. Upstairs, Lyssa confronts Moira. Lyssa feels that she’s not hurting the Innkeeper by charming him, but Moira disagrees with her logic and still finds her approach to be dangerous. Lyssa goes in for a low blow and tells Moira that she hasn’t been the same since Vetnik took her out at the Games and that she ought not to be wrapped up in the prince so much. She claims her heart is making her weaker and weaker.
“You and your valor are beginning to bore and exhaust me.”
“Fine, Lyssa. No one is good enough for you, no one can love you.” Moira says, steeling herself from tears. Lyssa sees this vulnerability and leans in.
“You swore an oath to protect me some time ago, but the way things are going, it looks like I’m not the one who needs to be protected.”

WORK IN PROGRESS…

In the morning, Lyssa wakes and knock spells the door open. “Come out, old woman.”
Violetta steps out with an eerie look of calm. “Yes, Lyssa?”
“You are to stay here while I’m away.” Lyssa commands.
“I can’t do that Lyssa. I must go to the church of Cortox.” She replies in a collected voice.
Lyssa attempts to charm spell her but her mother beats it. “You want to stay here.” Violetta slightly smiles in victory. “My place is with Cortox.” Lyssa rushes her mother and grabs her by the throat. “I would take you to see him myself, crone!” Violetta doesn’t fight back despite being choked.
“I’ll ask you one more time, what business do you have there?”
“Oh dear daughter, you will never know the peace I know,” she replies choking.
Lyssa releases her mother and in a rage, drops a scare spell successfully. She throws Violetta back into the pantry and she cowers and shrieks before her daughter, but also prays in a foreign language. “Shut up!” Lyssa shouts in frustration as she seals the door back shut. Realizing the daylight outside, she gathers her things and rushes over to Pimpleton Manor for breakfast.

George greets Lyssa. “Ah, Mistress the others are already seated at the table. Please join us.”
Lyssa shuffles in, visibly exhausted. Vetnik looks to Moira for a reaction and sees she has a concerned expression. “Are you ok, Lyssa?”
“It was a long night.”
“A long night doing what?” Th
“Dealing with things, between my mother and I.” Lys
“What have you done this time?” Thom asks in a joking manner.
Lyssa glares back at him, unamused.
“Is she still alive?!” Th
“Oh no, Lys. You didn’t—“ Tri
“Can we please just eat?” Lys

“I’ll break the ice. Are we heading somewhere, do we have somewhere to be? Didn’t you have something for us dad?” Tri
“Yes, but I’m waiting for this turmoil at my breakfast table to pass.” Ze
“Oh, Lyssa? She’s fine. Thom’s just poking fun.” Tr
“The day she’s fine is the day I can go back to my grove. In the meantime, your destination is Blackmoor.” Ze
Trisoll runs off and returns with a map to Blackmoor. “It’s as north as north can be, except for the Land of Black Ice! Vet, have you heard of this place?”
“Yes, I know of it. It’s straight across the Barren Wastes.” Ve
Lyssa looks to the group without a clue as to what they’re talking about. “Wait, where are you going?”
“Where are we going? Remember back at the University of Magic that favor we owed in return for for you know who because of you know what? They called it in. So, I suppose we’re going to fetch some Anti-Magic Orb. “ Tr
“Anti-Magic Orb?! What help am I going to be?” Lys
“I don’t know, your sharp tongue?” Vet
Lyssa looks to Vetnik, confused and unnerved by his comments. “Pardon?”
“Yes, you can just berate anyone we come across to death.”
“I have studies to tend to. Enjoy your breakfast.” Lyssa says, trying to excuse herself from the discussion.
“That’s right, run off. No thanks for bringing you back or for keeping your mother safe.” Vetnik continues. Under his breath he mutters, “the gods only know what you’re putting her through up there.”
Lyssa is immediately caught off guard. She looks to Moira, who sits awkwardly silent. “I don’t have to listen to this, nor do I have to go on some quest to chase down something that will only put me at even greater risk—“
“We’re duty bound to uphold our end of the deal.” Trisoll reminds her.
“I have to talk to Ebeviria before I agree—“
“Well, we have to meet at the University later. We can meet you there after your studies.” Moira says in an even tone. Lyssa scowls at Vetnik and Trisoll then turns to Moira with hurt in her eyes. Moira looks back, unable to keep her eyes locked. Lyssa leaves feeling deafeated and heads to the University. s

Shortly after Lyssa leaves Vetnik finishes his meal and he and Trisoll quietly make their way to the Nymph and Satyr. He bids the brothers, the Lyks and Moira an even farewell (which slightly puzzles Moira, who finds his platonic tone strange.) The tavern stands beside the House of Comfort. It is a newer structure, very decadent and posh, and unusually active for the early afternoon hours.
“Let’s go get a drunk! Some elven wine?” Tr
“I say you take it easy, lest I take you home over my shoulder.” Ve
“Hahaha I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll stick with ale.”
“Lot of ladies. Oh, speaking of which.” He points her out.
“Stop pointing!”
“I thought you were a barbarian, jeez.”
Two different girls have their eyes on Vetnik from the bar. Both women are tall, one hot redhead and a hotter brunette. The brunette steps away from the bar and approaches their booth.
“You look to be a man of class. My name is Penelope.”
“What are you drinking?” Ve
“Nothing at the moment.” Penelope replies, danging her empty mug.
“Let’s amend that.” Ve

Trisoll wanders off and works the room himself but none of the women appeal to him romantically. Only female friends are there. Penelope is loosened and uncouth towards Vetnik as she continues to drink.
“Well, my dear, let’s fetch you another drink. I’m going to talk to a lady.”
“Excuse me?!”
“A lady, I said. Have a good afternoon.”
“Fine! I’ll take that drink though.” Penelope barks, slurring her order. Vetnik leaves a gold piece on the bar for the tab and walks away to find Trisoll. He finds him kissing a husky, homely woman. As he scans the crowd, he sees an almost perfect woman: a tall buxom blonde that resembles Moira, except with blue eyes instead of green. He walks by and watches the men fawn over her. He fires her a look and she glances back. She follows him through the crowd.
“Hello, who are you?”
“You’re very… tall. Hahaha. I am Knight Bachelor Vetnik Talthraudii, of Granrud. And you are, milady?”
“Serek Millner of Greyhawk.”
“I couldn’t help but notice you.”
“Likewise. You’re quite handsome.”
“I don’t hear that often. Thank you.”
“I hear that kind of shite from guys all the time. Look, I’m into you and from what I can gather, the feeling is mutual. Shall we?”
“Very well then. Where are you?”
“Greyhawk Heights.”
The two leave and get it on at her mansion. As he leaves, he’s all smiles. He certainly walks away feeling an intense physical connection but is interested to explore her beyond her body.

Meanwhile, Lyssa visits the University and is given free passage without signing in. She heads into the guild and to Ebeviria’s chamber. The door is closed, and one of her acolytes answers as she knocks.
“Can I help you?”
“Can you let Ebeviria know that Lyssa’s here?”
Ebeviria’s voice calls out from deep in the chamber. “You fool, why is she waiting? Open the door!” The acolyte does as he’s told and ushers Lyssa in. Ebeviria waves him off and he quietly leaves, tugging the chamber door shut gently behind him.

Ebeviria stands, while Carthus remains at the side of her sovereign chair. “Ah yes, so glad to see you, butterfly. So good of you to make it back.”
“Yes, yes I am back.”
“You sound dissatisfied?”
“You knew I was gone?”
“I did.”
“Why did you… help me? Why didn’t you get me back?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just that… you are powerful, and I thought that…”
“You thought me some sort of ‘grandmarm’ to you, is that it? You misunderstand our relationship. You are my student, my subordinate.” Ebeviria saunters back to her chair, almost disgusted by the notion of being anything more than teacher. “Now, fetch me tea leaves! Not the kind of divining either!”
“As you wish,” Lyssa says, bowing her head to hide her disappointment, “mistress.”

Lyssa leaves the campus and heads to the bazaar. With little knowledge of fine teas, she stops at the first booth she finds and asks what she can get for 10 silver. Several minutes later, Lyssa returns with a box of Amedio Black. Her returning puts a bit of a smile on Ebeviria’s face. “You are always subservient to another,” she tells Lyssa while taking the box of tea. “The task was not to fetch me tea leaves, but to be able to bury your pride for a moment.” Ebeviria gently lifts Lyssa’s head up and looks her face over. She waves a couple fingers over her face and the teacher’s red glowing wizard mark appears before evaporating. “Now, what can I do for you, butterfly?’
“I’ve been asked to accompany my ‘friends’ to Blackmoor to pay off some boon that was owed to the University.”
“Oh yes, I recall.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to be of help. If this orb is as dangerous to magic users as I’ve been told, why am I even being sent?”
“The University is not able to place you any closer, so your skills with come in handy in the interim. Besides, the orb only has a radius of limited effect.”
“Then why don’t mages who are more powerful and capable than myself go to retrieve it?”
“Like whom?”
“Glarius? Or even you! I mean, you have the power to—”
“Butterfly, our efforts are better spent here at the school. That is why we have you all. Now, if there’s nothing else?”
“No, mistress,” Lyssa says as she approaches Cathus. Ebeviria watches as Lyssa kneels before him, and instead of growling he is receptive to her affection. Despite his usual grizzly demeanor, he seems at peace. Before leaving, Lyssa pulls out a parchment, “I’ve been meaning to give this to you as well. I’ve been looking into spellcraft and…”
Ebeviria looks it over for a moment and tells Lyssa she’ll see what she can do, to consider it something to look forward to once she returns with the Anti-Magic Orb.

Grum heads to the Thieves Guild and it appears as though his tutor is not there. He is stopped by someone else though: Asteria Silverkit.
“You never look at me, why is that (fake name from The Games)?”
“Good to see you made it back whole, Asteria.”
“Ah, well well if it isn’t the big winner. Congrats. What brings you here, I figured you’d be bathing in your riches.”
“There’s only so much time in the day to bathe in gold. I still have other things to do. For instance, I have to visit my tutor.”
“Oh, who is it you study under?”
“Thurman Dietrien.”
Asteria’s eyes narrow as his name is revealed. “Thurman eh?”
“I sense some tension?.”
“Shall we take a walk?”
Grum agrees and takes her arm. The pair stroll down through Newhope arm in arm, giving the illusion of a leisurely couple. “Let me ask you about Thurman. Has he expressed any displeasure with the current regime?”
“Interesting question, leads to many of my own. Truth be told though, when he and I study together he has only opened up to me as much as our tutoring is needed. Unfotunately, it’s not a personal lesson.”
“Well then, let me offer you this with your utmost discretion?”
“Of course.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Well, madam, believe what you want.”
“Hmm mmm.” She hums and beckons Grum off the main road. Confident they’re alone, she reveals. “There’s a conspiracy to dethrone Nystra Greythrush. My sisters and I aim to keep things as they are, as they should be. I notice you aren’t taken by feminine wiles, I feel like we could use a very specific man with your specific set of skills and peculiar taste.”
“What makes you think—”
“Nystra has her suspicions. Thurman has been known to meet with individuals who are interested in fulfilling this coup to unseat the Siegemistress. The politics of the guild is where the real money is made. We aim to root out those who seek change. Let me ask you, if Thurman says anything to you, will you come back to us?”
“Spy on him?”
“No, conduct business as always. No more or less than you already do. If he tips his hand to you, you should tip your hand to us.” She flashes her red nail, the signature of her girl gang The Red Nails.
“How can I trust you?”
“I think this will sway you more than trust.” She says handing him a sack of coin. “Plenty more if things remain as is.” Grum balances in the palm of his hand and finds its weight quite agreeable.
“I feel like we’ve got a good connection you and I.”
“I thought we would.”
“I’ll be in touch.” The pair part ways

At the bazaar, Thom shops for equipment: torches, lanterns, climbing gear, ropes, meal and rations for man and animal, and most importantly, 5 gallons of ale and wheels of cheese to trade

Thom is first to meet Lyssa. “Do much do you know about.”
“There’s a reason the higher mages aren’t going and we are.”
“
“More tactical spells
Moira approaches, Lyssa is upset that she didn’t stick up for her.

Grum shows up next, a little stressed.
“Why so glum, Grum.”
Grum pulls him aside and reveals the details.
“I dunno who I support or if I support any of them. Am I putting myself in danger if I chose a side?”
“Sounds like I need to get more info.”

“Is everything ok, Lyssa.”
“The only person in that room I expected to stand up for me was completely.”
“I know that you can speak for yourself, but you I would defend yourself.”
“I expected more consideration from you.”
“Lyssa!”
“Forget I mentioned it.”
“I’m sorry.”

Trisoll waits outside of Greyhawk heights and claps on Vetnik’s arrival.
“Stop clapping, its embarrassing.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Could’ve been better. How about you.Do you remember her name?”
“Yes! I don’t wear this finery for my health.”

The Mages give them a crude map and inform them they can be sent no further than the Cold Marches. The wizards begin to intone the mass teleport spell and in a moment’s time they find themselves in a wet, cold marsh. It’s a bizarre mix of frigid air and humidity. Vetnik is unaffected but the others, including Moira, are shivering. He throws Lyssa and Moira a set of furs. Moira thanks him while Lyssa glares, but accepts the pelt regardless. Grum leads the party through the Marsh along the guide of the map, northeast where the general sense is. Behind them is an immense silhouette of a town.

Grum struggles to find his bearings and ends up slightly off the trail. Suddenly, Vetnik hears horses in the distance. “About four horses, heavy and kicking up quite a bit of earth.”

Thom focuses and casts TINY HUT around the party, much to the surprise of everyone. Suddenly, the temp gets a lot more even. The riders look puzzle as they approach, grizzled wolf nomads.
“Wolf Nomads!”
“How do we handle this, Thom?”
“We have two options. Go around, which they won’t like. Or show them who we are and beat them down.”
Vetnik and Moira head up the front while Trisoll preps a spell. “We can do this” Mo to Vet.
They spin around on tbeir horses. “Who are you, what are you doing here?”
“I am Earl of Granrud of House Talthraudii.”
“You ride too close to Eru Tovar.”
“We do not mean to disturb anyone.”
“Hahaha! Is that a woman in armor! Is this your bodyguard, great prince!”
“I don’t need any one to guard me.”
“I think you look weak to us.”
“Come to my face and say that.”
“Katak says you’re weak.”
Vetnik attempts to slap and hits. Katak punches him back! The pair spar in fisticuffs. Vetnik lands another punch but Katak misses. Vetnik hits him again but Katak fires back but misses. Vetnik laughs and enrages the nomad. Vetnik goes low and bashes him in the left leg and fells the barbarian. “You win, Vetnik Talthraudii!”
“You got bested by a Northman, hahaha!” they jeer.
“You stay out of Eru Tovar!” he yells and rides away. Moira stands back, impressed.
“Well handled. How did you know the others wouldn’t attack.”
“There’s a code to hand-to-hand with barbarians.”
“I didn’t think barbarians had a code. You pique my interest.”

Grum continues to plot the course on the crude map. A few hours later, they see a tribe of swamp tribesman poking around in the swamp. They are outnumbered by at least double. They charge the party, with a chieftain in a frog mask. They are covered in makeshift armor made of lizard skins stitched together. Thom fires off an arrow and both make their target: the frog masked chief! The first hits him square in the chest that causes major bleeding, the other in the right arm which forces him to drop his staff. It breaks as it falls to the ground as he falls dead to the ground.
“Impressive, Thom” Vet
They are shaken but continue on! Lyssa drops a scare spell and causes 6 of them to drop in fear. Trisoll holds and watches. Grum draws his bow and fires off a pair of arrows and kills off two more swampmen. Moira rushes in on horseback and cuts him down. Vetnik rides after and kills a third with his longsword. A swamp man slashes at Lyssa (twice) and Moira but both miss. A forth takes a spear jab to the side. A fifth swampman attacks Thom, stabbing him in the right leg with a spear and draw lots of blood. Lyssa is stuck by a spear and take a bit of a hit.

Trisoll casts HEAT METAL on two of the swampmen, which causes their iron spears to heat up and heat their hands. Lyssa attempts to cast Burning Hands upon her assailants but it appears that the spell fizzles (at least in her mind). Vetnik cuts at two, misses first but destroys the second. Grum draws two more arrows and fires, killing both targets. Moira swings twice and kills both of her opponents. Thom swings with his blade and kills his attacker. The last two swampmen, still standing, flee back into the swamps.
“You want me to stop them?” Tri
“It’s up to you?” Vet

They see the 6 men and Moira begins to tie them up.
“That’s a waste of rope.” Lyssa says as she goes to inspect the corpse of the Frog masked mage. She detects no further magic on the broken staff or the corpse, but she sees that his bones have been broken and sinew cut and reshaped into more frog-like limbs. Lyssa takes the medicinal herbs found on his body and returns to the rest of the party. They leave the swampmen tied up and are back on their way.

Several hours later, they see a very large castle in the distance. Thom quips as it comes into focus. “That looks like Ram’s Horn Castle. This means we’re west of the map, and we’re off the path!” As they continue to ride, they hear a booming voice call out: “No further! Halt! Visitors are not welcome.”
“We come bearing cheeses and spirits!”
“Lord Ferin has no need for cheese.”
“But he hasn’t tried these cheeses!”
“I would try these cheeses.” A crossbow-bearing guard steps out of the wood and approaches the party on the road. “Cheese, eh?”
“We’re travelers sir, I think we’re off our path. Here, try some of our cheese.”
The guard accepts and he really likes it. “This is quite good! My lord has no need for cheese, but my men on the otherhand… I might be able to look the other way.”
“Blackmoor” Vet
“Blackmoor town? You’re a little west. Head that way, find it.”
Thom gives 2 wheels. “Quite generous. In that case, beware the veil of the bite.”
“What is that?”
“A scar in the world.”
“Would you mind being less cryptic?”
“There is much treasure as there is danger to be found there.”

The party departs and heads east. Grum takes the lead again, and on their way he spots with his eagle eye perception a strange sight: a figure seated on the marsh ground and the carcass of a fox. Upon closer inspection, he sees the figure’s face is covered with a gauze-like mask decorated with antlers streamed with feathers. He digs through the still-warm body of the fox, the guts and blood of the animal spilling onto the cold earth.
“Did you say anything to him?”
“I don’t know if he saw me. Whatever he was doing looked… unpleasant.” Gr
The man appears 3 feet away with the same dead fox.

“I’rak’ul dath thoom…”

Thom casts Comprehend Language and listens in on the mysterious figure.

“The Veil of the Bite is your doom.” Thom repeats back to the party in translation.

“The Veil of the Bite is your doom. Feed the chaos. Past Glendor through the Gloomfields you will seek Blackmoor Town.”

“What do you want from us?” Gr
The strange figure looks up from his fox carcass and speaks in common through his Gaussian death mask.
“I want nothing. You do the bidding of chaos already.”
“What do you mean by that?” Lys
“Hahaha you should know, Bride of Chaos! I see you!”
“Do you want some cheese?” Thom jokes.
The strange man pauses from exploring the innards of the dead beast and sniffs at the wheel. He scoffs: “This offends me!”
“Sorry, I’m just trying to be a little chaotic. I have ale if you prefer.” Thom opens a jug and allows the strange man to sniff.
He turns and the feathers brustle slightly as he moves, almost like extensions of his body.

Thom presents him with the gallon. He shakes it and pops it open. He gags at the smell. “You try to poison us!”
“No, no, no! We’re only trying to pass through the marsh in peace!”
“The Veil waits for you!”
“What is your purpose in telling us this?”
“You will know soon enough. Chaos has seen what’s
“Leave us be!” Lyssa commands.
The man disappears and reappears behind Lyssa, gutted fox in all. Lyssa approaches and attempts to grab his bloody hand. His hand draws on her face with the blood.
“What are you doing?!” Moira rushes in.
“Do not interrupt!” the strange man orders as he traces tribal symbols across Lyssa’s face and down her neck.
Lyssa is petrified and Moira leaps in and her hands pass right through his arm. Lyssa casts blink and he tags along! Lyssa’s hands flame up but the flames pass through him. His hands continue to trace down her face and neck. “It is complete.”

He steps away.
“What have you done?”
“I have cast spell protecting the Bride of Chaos. You will see. It is done.”
He vanishes, dissipating into immaterial nothingness, leaving behind only his feathers which fall to the ground.

“What did he mean, Bride of Chaos?” Mo
“I… I don’t know.” Lys

All are speechless. Even Trisoll is silent. “Are you alright, Lyssa?” Th
“Are you ok to travel? I would love to get out of here as quickly as possible” Mo
“Yes, let’s.” She replies to Moira, picking up a couple feathers.
“You sure about that, Lys?” Th

Grum leads them out of the clearing and they head to Blackmoor. On the second day out, they hear Trisoll cry out, “Mugwump!”
As they get closer, they realize it isn’t his beloved giant frog but another. Thom begins by pounding his war drums with the butt of his swords. Moira looks to Trisoll as she runs towards it with a sword. He hesitates but she charges and slices into it. It croaks as she slices its neck open.

A third giant frog leaps onto the scene. Trisoll feels guilty and casts charm animal, which succeeds. “You’ll be…”
“You don’t have to name every frog you charm, Trisoll.” Mo
“He’ll be called Kerbit.”
A few hours later on the edge of the swamp, the air itself is poisonous and their lungs feel tight. A haze surrounds them with a smell of smoke and fire. A mile out from Blackmoor Town they first notice outside the gates is 2 enormous wheels with a dome of glass sitting on top with 2 large metal spokes. Grum spies in the glass sees dwarves sitting in there moving the levers. Lyssa too pieces together her vision and her present. Beyond the walls of the city, blue flamed gaslamps line the city streets.
“Let’s tread confidently” Th
As the party rides up, one of the enormous wheels diverts and rolls over to the party. The glass hatch opens and a dwarf calls out. “Ahoy oi, what can we do fer ya? You seek passage to Blackmoor?”
A dwarf comes down and casts a spell. He glances at Lyssa. “You! You behave yourself here in Blackmoor! The rest of you are free to go?”
“Your name?” Vet
“My station is all that matters.”
“Vetnik, thanks for your help.”
The dwarf climbs back in the wheel.
Vetnik looks at Moira, who’s flabbergasted by the awesome wheels.

As they approach, the gates swing open and reveal a city unlike anything they’ve ever seen before. Humans, dwarves, and gnomes occupy the city. They all operate and work on natural gas machines, pumping out plumes of smog to operate the machinery of the city. There’s a central tavern in town where a lot of activity takes place. Thom watches as people enter but no one exits. A visitor approaches and pulls another person out, who escapes with an expression of wonder on his face. Lyssa stops and watches the activity. The others stop as well and they peruse the building’s grounds. Thom hears them talk of the Inn Between the Worlds. Thom looks up and sees a sign “The Comeback Inn.”
A man ushers the party in. “Welcome to enter. No hostilities are allowed inside, the magics insure to that. When the bill is paid in full, you’ll be allowed to leave.”

The inn is brand new, in pristine condition. Unlike the rest of the town, it is fragrant and beautiful, perfectly kept and clean. They enter into a foyer that empties into the inn. It’s a gorgeous building, posh and of exceptional quality. It is bustling with business. After a few minutes, a man approaches. “I am the propeitor. My name is Fredigar Crips. Welcome to the Comeback Inn, what brings you here?”
“Hopefully procure some rooms.” Vet
“I can offer you the most exceptional rooms in all the Flanaess.” Fred “Follow, I’ll tell you a bit of the Inn.”
“I spared no expense in crafting this place, the Inn Between the Worlds. Great care to populate it with great magics. One spell insures the larder is always full and that the casks never go dry, and are replenished every night at midnight. For those of you who desire, you cannot casts spells within the walls. You are not allowed to leave under your own power. Only once your bill is paid in full may you leave.”
Lyssa attempts to leave but ends up magically trapped in the foyer.
Fred waives at the bartender and suddenly an arm yanks Lyssa in back with her friends.
“Well, let’s give them coin.” Vet
“How about we don’t stay here?” Lys
Thom struggles to recall about the inn but only vaguely recalls the “Inn Between the Worlds.”
Vetnik recalls tales of the Comeback Inn, it’s survival through the Blackmoor Inn. It was the only building that survived the last war. “I feel pretty safe here.”
“You don’t feel safe here?” Mo
“No! I don’t feel like being extorted to leave.”
“You don’t have to stay here if you don’t like” Vet.
“Fine.”
Fred snaps his fingers and she is released from the bondage of the hotel.
Lyssa is alone on the streets of Blackmoor while the others take rooms.

The others explore their rooms, which are posh and decadent. Moira and Trisoll are in awe, but the Black Bros. and Vetnik are more familiar with luxury.

Lyssa finds herself on the streets populated by majority of dwarves and gnomes. She wanders looking for a place to stay. She ends up at another inn called the Fetch, with a sign bearing a dog holding a stick in its mouth. Inside, she finds it of average quality and very dwarven in natures. Cozy but without flourishes.
“Hello, traveler?”
“Do you have any rooms available?”
“Of course. We have them for 3 and 5 gold.”
“What do you have for free?”
“Finest room.”
A porter escorts her to the finest room, which is still pretty average. The bed is of average size.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

In the week spent traveling back to Greyhawk, Lyssa’s mind was locked in a continuous storm of processing what effect winning The Games really had on her. The roars of adulating crowds and the three faces of humiliated opponents defeated in duels still swirled in her head at a rapid, blurry pace. Entering her apartment, she did her best to steel her mind as she inspected her home. Nothing appeared to have been taken this time, nothing of major significance anyway. Everything she could recall with two sets of memories seemed to be as it was. Both Wizard Locks at the front door and available window appeared to have held over the past couple weeks. Lyssa continued to settle in, stashing her winnings in a nearby chest and stripping herself most of her daggers. Setting them down on a nightstand near her bed, she noticed the Eye of Modius still resting in its serpentine stand. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the smoky black orb for a moment. In that moment, the tornado of thoughts began to settle and images started to slow down and crystallize. “Mother,” she pondered, “what would you even think of me, knowing where I’m at and how far I have come?”

She reached down, touched the orb and, upon placing her fingertips upon the Eye, triggered the same flickering glow as it always had in her presence. Lyssa brought the Eye close to her face and stared intently into it. The curiosity of her mother’s condition seemed to take precedent over any other thoughts in her head. Softly, her eyelids shut and fluttered as she sunk into meditation. A blurry vision began to come into focus. It was Violetta, not as she was but as she could be. Aged, pallid, shivering in her sleep under thin and mottled blankets. Lyssa reached deeper into the vision, doing her best to control the view. As she began to pull the frame of the vision out, she could see that this room was not one she was familiar with. It was small, undecorated and windowless, with a single candle burning on an end table. She strained to investigate but managed to pull out of frame more. Outside, a modest wooden building stood in an unlit hamlet. Surrounding it were thickets of trees, vast and rich, with no sign of river or lake. Wherever her mother was — or could be — seemed isolated. Suddenly, her concentration broke and she was whipped back into the present. Her eyes opened to reveal an empty, black orb resting in her palms, her body seated in her own room with the candles still flickering, having ebbed a few drips more of wax. Lyssa placed the orb back in its stand and began to resume her bedtime ritual. Still seated, she drew the last of her blades from behind her belt: the red-bladed dagger from Athas, which she had yet to use in combat. She examined it in the dim glow of the candlelit room, watching the flickering flames distort and dance through the transparent red blade. Breathing in, she closed her eyes and once more began an attempt to tap into the second stream of memories resting in her brain. She clutched the dagger close to her chest as a dizzying wave of sensation washed over her. It was as if in a single breath the space she occupied had been turned on its side. The air filled with a pungent funk that recalled life back on the farms in Bayerton. She could feel the gravity of the room shift as something rigid and flat pressed against her back. She began to feel wiry, thin fabric float up her legs and across her breasts, covering her hands and the dagger held within. Overwhelmed with the sudden sensory changes, Lyssa pulled herself out from her meditation only to find that she was locked in no ordinary vision. She opened her eyes and surveyed her now horizontal body, covered in a thin, mottled set of blankets. She tore the rags from off of her body and sat upright and found herself at the edge of an aged, wooden cot. The room was not her apartment, but smaller. Much smaller, and much less decorated, bearing no windows. All of this was somewhat familiar though.

”Where am I?” Lyssa whispered to herself as she turned to see an end table beside the bed. On it rested a single melted candle with flame long extinguished.

Little did Lyssa know, dawn had come and gone and morning was well in its stride. It was at that early hour where the Black brothers were up and already quite active. In the early morning hours before breakfast, the pair made good on the lessons given to them by their bandit mother. While Thom dug spots throughout their yard, Grum carefully arranged a series of small traps around the house, ones he’d collected over his weeks of traveling and adventuring. Holes dug and traps set, the brothers began the task of divvying up their riches between the secret stashes. Grum did the work of hiding the riches, while Thom kept a log of the various hiding spots in and around the home. A bit of coin in a hole here, some gold in a small, poison dart-rigged chest there. They had learned well from their mother and father in the ways of protecting themselves and their valuables.

”What did you end up scoring last night at the bazaar?” Grum asked as he readied himself for a morning out.
Thom finished fastening his cloak around his neck and revealed a small, velvet sack. ”Just a few things for mother.” He untied the sack and revealed a set of fine crafted glass vials, each filled with a milky pale cerulean liquid. ”Elixirs of Youth. I figure these gifts will keep both mum and the old man happy!”
Grum winced at his brother’s innuendo and continued to finish readying himself in silence. Draped in their darkly colored cloaks, both brothers checked themselves one last time and made sure they were armed properly and all the traps in the house were set. Satisfied, the pair made their way to Pimpleton Manor for another communal breakfast.

At the manor, Vetnik was last to wake – not so much a result of a hearty night spent drinking, but rather an exhausted body and mind. He trotted down the steps still dressed in his evening clothes, his ashy blonde hair a tussled mess. To his surprise, a full breakfast table was already set with the Lyks family already gathered around. Zemilay sat at the head of the table enjoying his meal, with his hand in his wife, Xanti’s, who sat to his right sipping on tea. To Zemilay’s left was his son, Trisoll, whose back and head curved and slumped down towards his untouched breakfast plate. Burbis sat beside him, picking at his food with his legs dangling off the edge of his seat like an excited child.
”Gnomefriend!” Burbis cried out as Vetnik entered.
Trisoll lifted his stone-heavy head up and shot Burbis a pained look before turning to his handsome (if not a bit disheveled) friend. ”Vet,” Trisoll groaned with a smile, ”pull up a chair, you’re just in time.”
Vetnik complied and sat beside Xanti, who greeted the young prince with a kiss to his cheek.

”I trust you got much needed rest after your victory party, Vetnik?” Zemilay said, mouth still filled with chewed pork belly.
”Yessir,” Vetnik replied as George set down a plate of food before him.
“We’re all loaded now, pop,” Trisoll interjected, raising his cup of ale in commemoration! ”We did pretty awesome.”
“Loaded, huh?”
“Not much as you. We all won 2000p. Except for Moira. We won the games!”
Zemilay sips his tea.
“Dad, why do I have to fish for your approval?”
“Don’t make this awkward. What’s the plan today?”
“I think it’s time to set up for another expedition.” Th
“No time to waste.” Gr
“Follow up on some leads, see who needs rescuing. I feel the need to explore!”
“Agreed! having all this money and success had made me feel pretty confident. Those Raven dudes get it. Seeking out gold and enrichment, as long as its done in the service of good.” Tri
“Without disrupting the balance of things.”
“Well if its political unrest you seek…”
“No! I’d rather find a dusty tomb or sunken treasure.” Th

“I’ve not been doing anything too exciting.”
“I know what you two were doing and it was gross.”
“It’s your mother. I’ve seen the women you keep company with.”
“I don’t bring them home!”
“Eat your breakfast that George made for you.”
“Fine. It’s good, George… real good.”
“Very!” Vet

“Where are the ladies?” Tori
“Yeah. I’d like to see what they’re up to before we leave.”
“Well, we’ll check on Moira you and me (Vetnik).”
“I’d rather not.”
“C’mon! We’ll check on her and you go check on Lyssa.”
“Sure.” Th

At the Steelshaper home, Vortis answers.
“I heard about your victory. Very proud of you. Moira’s pride is hurt, but in body she’ll be fine. Don’t worry about her.”
“Is she home?”
“No, she’s at church. She mentioned something about cloistering herself for some time. I’m uncertain.”
“I assume she’ll come back here, please let her know we stopped by.”
“You can visit her at the church. I see the way you look at her. Go talk to her.”
“Very well then, sir. I’ll see you soon.”
“Very good. And when you return, we’ll arrange some time for smithing.”
Vortis doesn’t care much for Trisoll’s buffoonery and doesn’t address him directly. Trisoll keeps his mouth shut.

The Black bros. head towards Modius’ apartment. They knock upon the door and hear no answer. “Lyssa, it’s the black brothers.”
He hears a muffled female voice from behind the door.
“Um… “ Thom leans into the door to listen. He unfortunately can’t make it out. Grum leans in to listen as well, but the door proves too thick.
They turn to each other puzzled. Thom summons his unseen servant to open the door, but it is unable due to the wizard lock. Suddenly, there’s banging upon the door on the other side. Thom stands back and casts dispel magic over the door but he fails against Modius’ powerful magic. “Lyssa!” Thom calls out, which the only response is only more muffled panic and banging.
“If that’s Lyssa, it doesn’t sounds like she’s having a good time.”
Thom and Grum look around but see no scratches or sign of invasion. Grum writes a note “Are you ok” and slides it under the door. After 2 minutes, the note is pushed back out and written in blood, a reply: “GET ME OUT”
Grum hurriedly works on finding possible traps while Thom cooks up a knock spell. Grum finds no trap and concludes it’s the effect of the spell on the door. Thom intones the knock spell and the door swings open a bit. Suddenly, a stranger rushes out of the door with a bloody hand runs past down the stairs. Thom draws his blade while Grum chases after the mystery woman. “Get back here lady!”
“No! Don’t make me go back!” the woman replies hysterically.
“Whatever happened, running in the street isn’t going to help. Come back with us and we’ll figure this out.”
“NO NO YOU CANT TAKE ME BACK!”
The patrol sees Grum running after the hysterical woman.
“Hey! What’s going on here?”
“Oh, my grandmother. She’s touched and has fled the house, I’m trying to get her back!”
The patrolman looks Grum over. Thom approaches, having heard every word. Using his acting abilities, he flawlessly executes a lie. “Sir, our poor grandmother is ill and we have to get her.”
The patrolman offers to apprehend her. “This is awful, we’ll help you of course! May the Gods be more fortunate to us as we get to her age.”
“Grum, find the woman and I’ll go get the others to bring back to the apartment.”

Lyssa, meanwhile, finds herself on a straw mattress in a filthy room. Lyssa stands, red dagger at her side, and makes her way to the door. She pushes the door open and she sees a path lead out to a declining set of stairs. Peering over the banister, she sees a pig of a man dressed in a white, mottled tunic, hawk a loogie sit in front of a desk. Lyssa creeps against the wall and casts Wraithform and sneaks behind him. On his desk, she sees a ledger with her mother’s name scribbled on it. She materializes and takes him by the head, placing her dagger against
“What is this place? Where am I?”
“What… what do you mean…”
“Keep it down!”
“Who are you?”
“I’m asking questions. Now tell me where am I?”
“An inn.”
“More descriptive please.”
“The Brown Tusk.”
“Where is that at.”
“You don’t—“
Driving her blade closer to his throat.
“Scorn!”
“How far away is that from Greyhawk?”
“About a month’s travel away.”
“What?!”
“30 Days travel, give or take.”

“That name, Violetta. What was she doing here?”
“This is an inn… I don’t understand.”
“Talk and I rip your spine out.”
“You’re in for it now!”

A man enters. “Gimme a room!” The fat man motions, leaning his head. “I’ll give you a room if you help me out with something.”
“What do you need? I have coin, I don’t need to do you any favors!”
“I’ve got a knife in my back. Get rid of her and you get it for free.”
The fat man spins and turns to face Lyssa. Lyssa drops her dagger and casts scare over the room. The men are terrified and begin to scream. Urchins peer out of the room while others who are disinterested close their doors.

Lyssa searches him and finds nothing. In the desk she finds 56gp. She robs the unarmed man and takes 11sp. Lyssa dashes out of the inn and finds herself in a strange, small village.

Back in Greyhawk, Grum spots Violetta looking around trying to run to a city gate. He sneaks up on her with silent ease, hiding in the shade, and glides behind her and attempts to knock her in the head with the hilt of his dagger. She moves just at the moment Grum strikes and sees Grum. Screaming, she runs towards the gate away from Grum. Grum looks around and sees the coast is clear and throws a rock at her and knocks her against the head, felling her. Grum picks her up, dumps her against his shoulder.
“Is everything ok?”
“She’s fine. She just took a tumble.”
“Does she need medical attention.”
“Yeah. Take her to the church of Beory to see the druids.”
The patrol takes her off his hands and watches as they carry her away.

Back at Lyssa’s apartment, the door is once more shut. Thom heads to Pimpleton manor.

Vetnik and Trisoll head to Temple Cortex. Vetnik knocks, a low-level acolyte answers. Nodding, Vetnik answers “Is Moira Steelshaper around?”
“I dont’ believe we have a priest by that name?”
“She’s a paladin.”
“The one with golden hair? Oh yes, she’s here. Deep in prayer in the moment.”
“Is there somewhere that I can wait?”
“Absolutely. In the meantime, would you like to hear about the grace of Cortex.”
Vetnik nods to Trisoll and excuses him back to the manor.

At the manor, Thom finds Trisoll.
“Lyssa might be in trouble. I had to break in, temporarily. A screaming old woman came out and Grum’s looking for her. Lyssa is nowhere to be found.”
“Whoa.”
“I can understand her not wanting to answer my summons, but if she ever found her property tampered with she’d let me have it.”
“This sounds weird even for Lyssa. I’ll head back to see Vetnik know and hopefully Moira will be free too. Before I go, I’ll head back to see dad.”

“i know Lyssa isn’t your fave, but I think she’s missing.”
“What did she do now?”
“There was someone inside, some crazy old lady came running out. Lyssa wasn’t there.”
“Where is she?”
“We’ll find the woman. In the meantime, my love Xanti, can you help?”
“You want me to scry for the young lady?”

Xanti reaches out but finds too much interference. Something happened, something is disrupting her ability to reach her. “I’m sorry, my love. I can’t find her. I’ll try later.”
“Y’know. I bet when Lyssa doesn’t show up for her lesson, Ebeviria will find her in like two seconds. That lady is nuts!”
“You go find the others, I will find Ebeviria. Now… go!”
“I’m going!”

Thom sends Trisoll to bring everyone together. “There’s something keeping my mom from finding her, but Lyssa’s teacher is going to go nuts when she doesn’t show for lessons.”

At Temple Cortox, an acolyte comes to visit Vetnik. “A Trisoll is here to see you.”
In the foyer, Trisoll unloads their plan to find Lyssa. As they make their exit, Moira leaves her prayers.
“My friends, I hear that you have been waiting during my prayers. What can I do for you?”
“I’m unfortunately not here for better news. We have to get back to the manor.”
“Allow me to armor up, I’ll be there shortly.”

At the mansion, all except Lyssa and Lyks.

In Scorn, Lyssa finds herself among a seamy town with an oppressive criminal element. The people are poor and down-trodden. The air is oppressive. No one looks like they’re above a pauper. Lyssa finds herself at a trading post filled with ill-quality food and furs. A brothel with low-whores. No tavern. Looking to the signs, she sees signs for Fort Hendrix (NW), Sable Watch (N), Fort Scaguud (E) and Flechschreider (SW), Rookroost (SE, larger sign). She makes her way to the trading post.
“What d’you want?”
“Do you know of any transports that leave this little hamlet.”
“Hahaha! Transport? Did you not come on horse?”
“No quite. Are there
“Can I get a horse?”
“Steal one. Don’t recommend it. They’ll cut your hand off they will!”
Lyssa charms him for 3-4 weeks.
“You want to help me right?”
“Of course!”
“Get me a horse!”

He returns with a horse, gaunt and ill-fed.
“You don’t like him?”
“No. You should get me the best horse.”
He steals the best horse.

“You gotta get out it.”
“It’ll do.”
“Give me any coin and food I can carry. 57sp.”

Lyssa flees Scorn, and heads to Rookroost.

At the Uni.
“Zemilay Lyks, I recall you visiting the college.”
“I was hoping to speak with Ebeviria.”
“Ebeviria Ysmari? Do you want to go tell her yourself.”
“Sure.”
“my name is not to be mentioned.”
“Of course. No one I recall in my old age.”

At her door, an acolyte answers Lyks’ knock.
“Yes?”
“WHO IS IT?”
“It’s…”
“SPIT IT OUT!”
“It’s Zemilay Lyks.”
“Why do I know… ah, of course. Send him in.”
Carthus roars as Lyks enters. Upon seeing Lyks, he calms himself and lies down.
“You do have a way with the animals. He’s usually more spirited. What can I do?”
“Lyssa is missing, and we do not know where she is. I was hoping there’s something you could do something.”
“Am I not doing enough for this lost waif?”
“I don’t know. I was merely trying to locate her and retrieve her.”
“Well, if she is not capable enough to bring herself back to the city in time for her next lesson, then she is banned. I expect her return in a week’s time.”
“Very well. Good day, milady. A joy to see Carthus, quite a handsome beast.”
“He enjoys you too. Good day.”

On the way out, an acolyte stops Lyks. He hands an envelope to him, sealed with the wax seal of Glarius Gladstone. Opening, he sees instructions for a favor. They have pinpointed the location of the anti-magic orb and they need it retrieved post haste. It’s somewhere in Blackmoor. Lyks tucks it in his robe.

At the house, Lyks finds the kids readying themselves. Xanti looks up from the ball “Lyssa flees Scorn!”
“Where is the woman in question?”
“She was taken to the Church of Beory.” Gr
“Ok… why? I mean, what about mom’s thing?”
“I’m going to see what we can do here.”
“We should head to the great library to see if they have anything on this Scorn.”

At Modius’ apartment, the Black brothers meet with Vetnik and Moira. The knights gussy themselves up and head to the jail.
“What do you think?”
“I think you’ll do just find.”

Thom and Grum remain at the apartment to investigate.

At the jail, a gentleman keeps watch of Violetta.
“Hark! What can I do for you this evening?”
“Hello. Someone, a friend’s grandmother whose old and unwell, is here. Can we speak with her?”
The guard is like putty in her hands. “Sure, of course… what’s her name?”
“Oh, I don’t know her name. I’m looking for a friend. She looks (description.)
“I found her, you wanna come back and talk to her.”
“Thank you!”
“What’s your name?”
Vetnik pushes past. “Moira Steelshaper, yours?”
“Jett.”
“Thanks for everything.”

Vetnik approaches.
“What do you want?”
Emitting calm, he approaches. “I’m here to help.”
“What do… don’t take me back!”
“Where?”
“That place! I was in Scorn…I was away… I got away!”
“Got away from where? There are people here who can help. Get me out so I can run away, please!”
“I have an idea. Will you listen and cooperate? You’re not going to run away from me…”
“YOU’RE GOING TO TAKE ME BACK!”
“What’s going on down there?”
Moira wraps her arm around him. “I dunno, I should check it out.”
“Good sir, can we let her out?”
“No, no… she has to stand before the magistrate first?”
“She has dementia.”
“That’s not my call. I have to ask you all to leave. this was a bad idea. Please.”
Moira turns to leave. “Sir, I have to insist!” the guard says, edging Vetnik out.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Of course sir, but you have to go. This never happened.”

“We need to charm him and get the lock open.”
“They both need to be charmed. She’s mad!”

At the apartment, they reveal their failure.
“You want us to get the woman?”
“Or get information from her. I don’t feel good about breaking in.”
“We’re trying to help her!”
“What about your father, Moira? He’s close to the guard.”
“I could ask my dad. He could help.” Mo

Thom climbs the walls of the apartment exterior. Inside, he peers inside and sees nothing.
“I don’t see anyone. Just a lot of mess. Looks like the woman was trapped. Obviously Lyssa isn’t here.”
“Maybe her magic flubbed again?”
“Does she bear a resemblance at all to Lyssa?” Gr
Vetnik: “There is some resemblance, from what I could see in the cell.”
“Is Scorn a place. The woman didn’t want to go back there.”
“We have to find out where this Scorn place is?”
“To the Great library!”

At the library, they find a map that shows them the location is a month’s travel away. “Let’s see if we my dad found anything out from Lyssa’s teacher.”
“We should hit the bazaar and the guild up for haste and teleportation scrolls.” Th
“I don’t have much coin.” Mo
“Fine. Whoever won more at the games will pay more.” Th
At the guild, they’re awarded a scroll with 5 spells: Teleport w/o Error, Mass Invisibility, Monster Summon III, Sending, Massmorph.

Thom burns the Sending spell immediately, sending a message to Lyssa:

“We are coming to get you by horseback using magic to hasten our journey then teleporting back use your magic to help us. Your Friends!”

Lyssa, an hour outside of Scorn, hears Thom’s voice in her head. She stops off right by a riverbank. She sets up camp. She makes an herbalism check and finds Valarian Root. As darkness falls, she sets up a campfire and has her dinner.

“Ebeviria was no help, but that was to be expected. However, there was a letter I received.”
“Well, we have a plan,” Thom said, doing his best to reassure his mentor. ”We bought a scroll at the University with a series of spells that should hopefully have us there and back in no time.”
“Well, you had better pray to Boccob they work in your favor then. The Director of the Mages’ Guild has called in his boon. He has found a location for the Anti-Magic Orb, and he expects you all to be in Blackmoor within a week’s time.”
Trisoll stepped forward, placing his hands upon his father and Thom’s shoulders, ”Between the spells we just bought and our own skills, we’re more than capable—“
“You also have to return with Lyssa in a week if she’s to maintain her studies with Ebeviria.” Zemilay said, cutting his son off mid-sentence with a stonefaced glare. The party’s confidence was visibly shifted in that moment as they each wondered how they’d even make it all across the Flanaess in seven days.
”This will not be as easy as you presume it to be. This will require all of your cunning! Luckily for you, I may be able to get you to the Bandit Kingdoms much quicker than you all would be able to.”
The young adventurers collectively released a soft sigh of relief as Zemilay led them to the Church of Beory.

The party made their way to the center of the Church of Beory, where Her Great Tree stood and continued to flourish. All in its presence were dwarfed by its sheer immensity; during the day, clerics and parishioners alike would gather at her massive roots and go about their business, but all was quiet in the temple at night. Lantern light cast delicate silhouettes against the tree while brilliantly embroidered silk banner hung still in the breezeless clearing. Zemilay led the awed party to one particular alcove adjoining the Great Tree.

”This is but one of the Ways of the World. This will lead you to the Circle of Bones in the Fellreev Forest nestled between Scorn and Rookroost.” Zemilay informed them as they filled the alcove. The alcove was empty, save for unlit lanterns and a green silk banner with runes embroidered across it.
”Ways of the World?” Moira asked, her attention still divided between Lyks and the splendor of the temple.
”One of Beory’s many gifts: a means of traveling across the realm through sacred rifts she has made accessible to only her most devoted.” Zemilay took a moment and caressed the bark of the tree. The party could see on his finger a large, silver ring carved with similar runes as the banners in the church, and topped with a large emerald orb that glowed with psychedelic green light as he touched the tree. Zemilay lowered his hand and quietly turned towards his son. He wrapped his weathered hand around his other and quickly slid the large ring off. ”Take it,” he said, pulling Trisoll’s hand closer to him and placing the ring in his palm.
”Father, thank you,” Trisoll said as he embraced Zemilay. ”Wait,” he said, breaking from the sentimental moment, ”how do I use it? What do I do?”
”Simply put your hand to the tree. Touch it, intone the words, and Beory will take care of the rest.”
Trisoll slowly spun the ring around his finger, making sure to inspect each rune thoroughly. Zemilay stepped aside and ushered his son towards the tree before standing back with arms crossed. Trisoll gently placed his hand on the tree, leaned in and began to whisper the call to Beory. The party looked on and saw a majestic sight beyond the mere glowing of Trisoll’s ring: as Trisoll continued to recite the words, they could see the same green glow flow through the cracks and crevices of the bark, from above and below. With the final incantation made, Trisoll stepped back and watched the streams of the green energy collide. Like some strange flower, the glow caused the bark of the tree to blossom open, creating a gate and bended itself down to the floor, creating a walkway. Trisoll stood by his father in a daze; his father’s description of the Ways had never done the reality any justice. Thom quickly pulled out his journal and pen and took down a quick sketch of the Way before approaching.
”I’ll go in first,” Thom volunteered, bewitched with journal in hand.
As he stepped onto the wooden ramp, Zemilay gently grabbed at the eager bard. ”Be careful. You’re heading into the Bandit Kingdoms and they’ve not been the same since Dorakka fell.”
Thom nodded at Zemilay and took the first step through the Way. Setting foot through the gate, his boot fell down against a much different terrain: dry plains. Strange terrain for a forest, Thom wondered to himself as his whole body passed through.

The Circle of Bones was right, but even in his vivid imagination didn’t prepare Thom for the sight that awaited him. Beneath him was a plot of marred land, dry and peppered with spots of dried grass. In the dirt he saw large circles long dug into the earth: charts for the cycles of the Sun and stars. Surrounding the circular plot of land there stood a row of large spires. Thom squinted to focus and began to discern the details of the spires. They were not stone structures, but appeared to be made of endless bones fused together with crude earthen binder, bones that ranged in size and shape, from gnome to giant! He rushed to quickly sketch the circle as best he could while the rest of his companions emptied into the darkly lit clearing.

At the edge of the circle, a dark robed figure stood watch at the three of the largest spires. A fourth figure stepped out of the darkness and began to make his way towards the party.

One approaches, an intense yet graceful Druid named Corvus Felmark. Vetnik approaches in full regalia.

Druid of the Northern Reaches, Corvus Felmark, mans the Way of the World in the Fellreeve Forest. A Stonehenge-like structure that lies in the Bandit Kingdoms.

“Welcome, Corvus Felmark.”
“Good to meet u.”
“What brings u here?”
“We’re heading to Rookroost, unfortunately. We need to retrieve a party member.”
“How do you travel this way?”
“Zemilay Lyks.”
“Ah, druid of Greyhawk.”
“I’m his son!”
Corvus cocks and glares.
“He is his son, and has been given permission by his father.”
“It explains your passage. This is a small refuge for a wood that is not welcome to your kind. Elves, you’d do well to hide your ears. Outside of the forest, expect to find Bugbears, trolls, and giants. if your friend is out there, I will pray for them. Where do you seek her?”
“Scorn” Th
“How did she come there?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out!” Ve
“A magical mishap” Th
“Sadly, I can spare no men. My three Ovaes maintain the glamours that hide this place from those who wish us ill.”
Oak and ash trees. Inscribed in the earth are sun and moon charts. “This megalith replaced the great tree that once stood. 10 years ago, the dark elves…The Drow invaded and burned it to the ground. If it is RR you seek, know this: it is a large walled city. It’s prospered since Iuz’s fall to Lolth, the leader has killed all who could oppose him. It’s humans, orcs, half-orcs, and Drow. Take great care to hide your ears, they will do you no favors. It is the City on the Hill, refer to it as such and perhaps you can get by. Enter it at your own risk.”
“Gather round, friends.” Th beckons. The abide and cloaks them in a field of invisibility. “If we had to rent a barge, I suggest we make it on foot.”
“The paladin and the cavalier, do not fly your colors. It’ll only bring you cover.” Corv
Moira looks stunned. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“If you try, it will mean imprisonment and death.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Vet
Corvus and his Ovaes offer fresh fruit and give the party a crude map. Thom summons a 10ft radius of invisibility and the party heads out on foot. The sky above is cloudy, but the day is warm. They make it to the river bank with no encounters. Casts Invisibility on Grum as the focus.

At the riverbank, Thom uses his pole in conjunction with his levitate and hooks a rope from one tree to another. Both Moira and Vetnik have removed their armor.
“I feel naked without my armor.” M
“Oh c’mon we do it all the time!” Th
Grum, goes across the river first with no issue. Tris jumps in and attempts. The first check he falls into the water. Carried by the current, he begins to doggy paddle back towards the bank. Vetnik reaches down to the river and grabs Trisoll and hoists him out, carting him along with him.
“We can’t both climb on this.”
Vetnik goes back and he waits as Tris successfully climbs across the rope again. Vetnik stands aside and lets Moira climb. As she makes halfway down the robe, a shipping vessel heads down the river.
“Vetnik! Get on the rope!”
“No, it’ll break!”
“VETNIK!”
The vessel passes and the rope holds barely. Moira successfully makes the rest of the trip and calls out to Vetnik again. “Hurry!” In the middle of the rope, Vetnik falls into the river. He begins to paddle and he sees the vessel nearing him. He looks up and jumps out of the water, mad grabbing for the rope. He pulls himself by the rope, his legs being hit by the currents. He powers through and sinks onto the bank. The vessel passes just as he gets onto land.
“I was so worried about you.” Mo
Vetnik smiles silently and plays it cool.

Lyssa wakes up in the middle of the night, with three badgers rifling through her things. Unsatisfied by the lack of findings, they begin to snip at her.

Lyssa flash fries two of the badgers. Terrified, the 3rd badger flees. After awhile, she attempts to sleep and she sees, in the distance, a slow-moving massive tree slowly moving through the forest. She watches and sees that it is walking like a bipedal creature (a treant.) As dawn approaches, Lyssa is exhausted and sleeps. In the morning, she wakes to find herself. She feels vulnerable, having passed out. Antsy and awake, she gets back on her horse and continue towards Rookroost. About 10 miles out from her camp, she feels a sharp pinch at her neck. She reaches and pulls a small dart out. She darts her head around and sees nothing. As a response, she conjures a fog cloud around her. Suddenly, she finds herself unable to move. Dropping out of the trees, a half orc holding a trident and a net. He walks through the fog. “If it isn’t our horse thief? Not much to look at. I bet you’d fetch a better price in Rookroost. Sell you to Gotox the Slaver. How’s that sound? Oh wait, you can’t talk.” He throws a net over her and carts her through the fog down the road towards Rookroost.

Nearing Scorn, the party run into 3 barking jackals. As they approach, they think better of their lives and scamper off. Clearing the woods, they see a city (sparse and dirty). It is Scorn, poor and filthy. Villagers toil and daze off in drunken dazes.
“Should we step outside the veil?” Th
“I’ll come out, see what’s what?” Tris. “What about you, Thom?”
“No, I’m fine here. Their less than favorable attitude towards half elves. You humans are welcome to by all means”
“No, this town is radiating evil.”
“Guys, help me out if you see me in need!”
“I’ll help out with my sword.” Vet
“So… who should I talk to?”

Trisoll leads them into town while the others stay veiled. The town is in a stupor, nothing seems to have happened. No real sense of Lyssa or sight of her. Guards, however, are posted in the streets. “Anyone care to join me up here?” Tri
“I will” Vet
“You sure, you sure you can contain yourself if you see some bad shit go down?”
“Better than you being alone.”
“Just keep your bones ready. Come, we’ll check and see if there’s a bar around. I remember a place called the Black Tusk Inn…”

The others shadow him as he heads towards the Inn. “I’ll make an excuse as you guys hurry inside.”

Tris tucks his symbol under her tunic and enters. He trips and drops a few coppers. He kneels down to scoop them up and keeps the door propped open. One of the scrubs in the inn rushes in to grab at his coin.
“Hey, those are my—“
“You lost them!”
“Fine, keep them. I don’t care.”
Tris approaches the fat man. “Hey!”
“What d’you want?”
“I’m looking for someone who might’ve stayed here. She (describe) Lyssa. Did she do something to you?”
“Why… do you wanna find her?”
“Because… I wanna cut her head off. I’m here to exact my revenge!”
“I believe I have seen her. She left me and another guest in quite the state when she left. I don’t know where she was from, but she didn’t seem to know where she was. She casts some sort of spell on me, took my gold. Bring me an ear, I’ll pay you 50gp!”
“Sure! I’ll bring you both!”
Trios convinces the innkeeper of his fake hatred.

“Where next? Where would she go?” Tr
“If she knew where South was, she’d head there.” Th
“If she knew where she was.” Ve
“I say we keep looking through town. She’s a memorable character, I doubt she’d leave town in a quiet manner.” Th

After a time, the Hold spell dispels and movement returns to Lyssa. “Don’t even think about it. I’m ready for you.”
“Really?”
“You want a conversation? I don’t really engage, but it’s been a tiresome day.”
She intones Wratihform and rematerializes on the road. Half-orc Coback Ogudar spins around. He casts Suggestion over her and beckons to her: “Cooperate with me!” She can’t fight.
“Let’s just walk together.”
“Fine.”

Trisoll, after meditating on a way to get to Lyssa, casts Messenger while in Scorn. A raven answers his telepathic call. He whispers something to the bird and it flies off. “I let her know we’re coming, that we’re heading towards Rookroost. If we don’t find her on the road, we’ll find her there.”
They continue through town and see no mounts for sale. “I can try finding some wild horses in the woods if you guys can wait for a bit?”
“Sure, we’ll keep close to Grum and wait for you here.” Trisoll leaves and fails his first attempt at finding horses, but as he continues his search comes upon a stampede running through the woods. They belonged to an army who had seemingly lost a battle nearby, and through the woods the horses fled.

In the meantime, the raven catches up with Lyssa. Flittering around her, it churns. She understands the message from Trisoll.

“I can track some of the horses for us. Vetnik, I hope you assist. Grum, scout ahead! Careful not to scare them, they could cause a stampede.” At the edge of town in the woods, the party sees the troop of horses breaking from their military training and slowly wilding out. Trisoll focuses to effect and calm the troop of horses. He begins, speaking to them, while Vetnik approaches to keep the herd calm.

“Hello! We mean you no harm. Please don’t run. We are friends, good!”

The horses are excited by the sight of the cleric. They trot closer. “Friends, we are your riders?”
“Riders gone, riders fall.”
“Help us? Make us your riders?”
Vetnik steps up with apples in his hands. They see him and are receptive, eager to eat.
“Other friend. There are more of us. Please, we need your help!” He pleads, tapping his staff on the ground to count. Out of the 21 horses, 6 approach in saddles. Trisoll and Vetnik step out of the clearing with prepared horses.
“Let’s go get Lyssa!”

The horses are OK with them riding. Grum hands his horse an apple after mounting. “They’re friends now, they can understand me. Like Mugwump back in the Marshes.”

“Ride fast, alright?” Tri to horse.

Off in the distance, Lyssa sees the sun begin to set behind the clouds. She can see mild torchlight. The forest gives way to the hills, and nestled between two hills is a crudely walled city. “We’ve arrived.”
“Perfect.”
“We’re going to visit a friend of mine now.”
“Of course, a friend.”
He leads Lyssa into the city.

The party comes out of the woods and sees Lyssa pass through the city gates.
“I think that’s Lyssa!” Gr “She’s walking there with someone.”
Thom casts Mass Invisibility over the party and they charge into the city after Lyssa. “Attack and the spell is undone. We go in, take her back with as little fuss as possible.
“By Cortex, how big do you think that city is?” Mo
Grum and Thom tie ropes to each other and climb the city walls. They succesffully make it and tug 3 times, alerting them to climb. Trisoll and Moira are first climb. Vetnik is last and everyone makes it. The Blacks undo their ropes, and still invisible, they see a population of humans peppered with orcs/half orcs and a few Drow. It is the first time any of the party has seen Drow. They pass a few taverns, a square filled with ravens, one called the Dirty Dog, for humans. Lastly, they see The Dragon’s Bite, appears to be for more well-healed clientele. The affluent are flanked by bodyguards. Thom makes his way towards the largest structure in town. It is not recognizable to him. Vetnik does though: “It’s a temple to Hextor, the evil god of War.”
“Oh, great.”
Them hustles to climb while Grum is more lax in his approach. Thom falls from his attempt. Thom attempts a second time, but falls a second time. “This wall be cursed!” Thom rebounds and makes it up. Grum falls the first time as well. His second attempt fails as well. Bruised, he climbs after his brother. He nears the top but falls just as he reaches the top, crashing down on the ground.

Thom scans the crowd and spots Lyssa moving beside a half-orc. The stranger talks to some big dude flanked with two smaller goons. They are hill giants and an ogre. They are standing out in front of an open-air market. “Ravens, the market!” Thom calls out below. Everyone on foot follows Thom’s “Raven” bird calls and they all rush to the market. There they see coffin-like cells dangling from gallows, holding human slaves. Thom leaps down from rooftop to rooftop. He leaps to the next and tucks and rolls. Perched at the edge of the roof, he listens in to their conversation. He here’s the half-orc hagling over a price for Lyssa, who stands in submission. “5 gold!”
“3!” He barks back looking her over.
“Fine, fair enough! This man is going to take you, I’ll be back later. Wait here for me.”
“Very well.”
Lyssa is escorted to a cage and locked inside, all the way in the back of the market.
“Everyone touch Lyssa, Ravens!” Thom calls out.
The group invisibly marches to the cage and surrounds her cage.
“Grum, open the door!”
Grum complies and cracks open the cage door. It opens and closes automatically. “Corbok?”
“Lyssa! We’re here to rescue you.”
“I don’t need rescuing, I’m here with a friend.”
Thom reads the spell and as he reads the last word of the spell, Grum grabs onto Lyssa and together the party is zapped back to Greyhawk in the living room of Pimpleton Manor, where the three men of the house are enjoying some men’s only time with coffee and smoke in the parlor.
“By Beory!” Zem
“Oh my!” George
“Gnomefriends!” Burbis
The trio are interrupted by a flash.

“Master Lyks, Lyssa is under some kind of hex.” Th
Lyssa and Thom banter back and forth as Zemilay inspects her. Thom pries, trying to get a better understanding of the logic of the spell she was put under.
“What do you mean slavery?”
“How did I get back here? What happened!?”
“I believe the person placed a Suggestion into her mind” Zemilay interjects. He closes his eyes, hovers his hands around her head and cleanses her mind of the suggestion. Lyssa suddenly snaps back to reality, remembering all but confused nonetheless.

Whats going
Let me
Then get to it, old man!
“I believe he put a spell on you. Was there anything that he said”
Lyssa I believe that this per

Shut up!
We had to free someone from your home!

I was, but just the eye.
I think your magic effected the switched places with the person found n your apart.
What person?
I don’t know. Come with me, I’ll take you to the jails to speak with her. We don’t know who she is but maybe you do.
“we gotta see this” Th

“I’ll run ahead and speak with my father, make sure everything is arranged.” Mo rides ahead. Vortis contacts the jails and arranges a meeting room with no attending guards.

At the jail, Moira is given the key to the cell and leads Lyks and Lyssa and the others to the holding cell. She unlocks the door and inside, cowering inside the cell is Violetta. She sees Lyssa. “NO NO WHY ARE YOU HERE! SET ME FREE!”
Lyssa stands. “Do you recognize this woman?” Lyks
“Who is she?”
“My mother.”
The party stands in hushed shocked.
“How do you want—“ Zem
“Get out.”
Even Zemilay knows when to pick his battles and leads the group out of the jails. Moira, on being the last to leave, turns and asks Lyssa. “Are you sure you don’t want any of us here?”
“Yes, you, please. Just… wait outside.”

“Nooo!” as Lyssa approaches.
“What are you doing here?” Lys
“I don’t know but I blame you!”
“How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know I don’t know. A few days. What do you want, why am I here? You don’t need me anymore. Just like your father. Once he was done, I was done!”
“What am I to you then?”
“Something from my loins?”
“There was no love…”
“Love?! Hahaha! Your father only cared for where I came from. Nothing more!”
“What do you mean, where do you come from?”
“My blood!”
“Who are we… who am I?”
“My father was Zagyg, the Mad,” She mutters to herself. “You are Yragerne!”
“What’s so special about you?”
“Nothing, only what the blood of my ancestry could provide. You see that ruinous castle, built by the mad mage. That is your grandfather, foolish one. You are the combination of the Yragerne/Modius bloodlines!”
“What do you want now?”
“Freedom! Freedom from this place, freedom from you!”
Lyssa approaches and corners Violetta, who with no place to go, buries her face and curls up into a ball in the corner of the cell. Lyssa yanks her mother up by the hair and casts charm over her. She is charmed, for 2 weeks. “Let’s go home, mother.”
“Where is home?”
“You’ve been there before.” Lyssa leads the docile old woman out of the cell.
“You sure about this, Lyssa. I don’t think she knows what she’s doing.”
“Don’t worry. I do.”

Lyssa leads Violetta out of the prison. Before leaving, a guard stops her. Lyssa suggests he turn a blind eye and he obeys. Lyssa and Moira escort a charmed Violetta back to Lyssa’s apartment. “You all go on ahead. Thank you… for getting me back home.” Lys to everyone else.
“Are you sure you’re going to be ok.” Mo
“It’s been a mad few days, but I’ll be fine.”
“Lyssa, will you mother be fine with you?”
“She’s not harmless.”
“Lyssa, promise me: you will not shed any blood!”
“I promise. Again, thank you. You helped keep my head level.”

Sitting on the steps leading up into Pimpleton Manor, Trisoll, Vetnik and the Black brothers sat and waited for the rest of their party to return. For a moment, all was silent except the chirping of nighttime bugs and the occasional, far away banter between city folk.
”Man,” Trisoll began, the first to break the silence, ”did you guys see Lyssa back there at the jails? I mean, I’ve seen her pissed but this was something else!” The boys said not a word in reply but merely sighed in agreement, their eyes still fixed onto the stars. Trisoll continued: ”Do you all think she’s going to be alright?”
Thom turned around and looked up at Trisoll, who sat reclined against the steps above him, ”you think Lyssa would actually harm her own mother? Or worse?”
Vetnik’s armor rattled together as he stood and picked his helmet up and cupped it beneath his arm. ”Whatever has happened between Lyssa and her mother has no doubt been happening for a long time. She doesn’t want our help in this, and I say we stay out of it unless she asks us.”
Behind Vetnik stirred the sound of another set of armor clanging against the cobblestone path. Vetnik turned and saw Moira rushing towards the steps. Those resting on the steps sat to attention as she approached.
”How did it go?” Vetnik asked.
_”I am not sure,” Moira replied before taking a pause. The others leaned in closer, curious for more. ”Lyssa swore to me that there would be no bloodshed. I think that she will be all-right, the two of them just need some time together. Hopefully to mend.”

The Black brother stood together and began to make their way to the road to call it a night. Trisoll stood too, brushing the dust from the stone steps from his bottom and legs. It was a bittersweet end to the night for all, but the rest it seemed was out of their hands. Before leaving the courtyard, Thom paused at the gate and turned to Moira. ”Did you bother to mention Ebeviria to her?”
”Oh no, I—“
”No worries,” Trisoll interjected, ”I’ll get the message sent to her.” Trisoll clasped his hands around his mouth and his friends watched as he let loose a strange birdcall unlike any they had heard before. In a matter of moments, a large black raven dove down from the sky and rested itself on Trisoll’s hand. Trisoll leaned in and whispered something quiet and unknown to the rest of the party before setting the raven off on its own. ”There!”

Both mother and daughter entered Modius’ apartment in a daze. Upon entering, Lyssa noticed across the room a raven pecking furiously at the glass window. Lyssa waved her hand, knocked the window open and allowed the raven to flutter in. The raven entered and rested on Lyssa’s shoulder (something that might have provoked a reaction once, but not this evening.) There was something engaging about the bird’s incessant cawing, and as Lyssa leaned in to listen, she could hear its true voice speak: ”Ebeviria wishes to see you.” Before Lyssa could engage the messenger in return, the raven leaped off her shoulder and fled back into the night.
”What is it, my child?” Violetta asked vacantly. Lyssa’s jaw clinched as she turned to see her mother standing the parlor, her lips taught as they formed a charm-manufactured smile. Lyssa looked to her mother’s left and without word knocked the nearby pantry door open. ”Lyssa?”
”Get in,” Lyssa commanded in a low, cold tone.
”Of course, my child,” Violetta replied, obliging her daughter though slightly perplexed by her request. Lyssa moved in closer and watched as her mother inspected the sparsely decorated shelves stocked with little more than old bags and jars of grains and beans. ”What’s all this then?” Lyssa remained silent as she watched her mother. ”Is this where I’m to sleep tonight?” Violetta mused with a slight chuckle. Again, Lyssa said nothing and kept her eyes on her mother. Violetta turned to Lyssa, an expression of concern falling across her face.

She said, approaching the mage, ”My child, what’s the matter?”

Before Violetta could step back into the light of the parlor, her placid expression froze. Her lips trembled as she looked upon her daughter standing in the doorway. ”No—,“ Violetta muttered through petrified lips. Fear quickly began to twist Violetta’s expression, whose tired eyes were locked with her daughter’s glowing ones. ”No, no, no, what have you done! Let me go! Let me go!” Violetta cried out as she rushed to make an exit. Lyssa’s eyes flared again and Violetta was suddenly overcome with a violent fear. ”AIIIIEEEEE!!!” She threw herself to the floor and buried her heads between her thighs while clawing at her scalp, as if to tear away the unclean visions that her daughter was filling her head with. She continued to cry out and wail for mercy, but Lyssa was deaf to her mother’s pleas. Without making a move, Lyssa’s eyes flared one last time and the door swung and locked itself up.

Lyssa wandered away from the closet and let the fury of her mother’s panicked pounding and clawing at the wooden door fade into bizarre murmurs. Her heart was low and her body stood disassociated from her mind. Silently in the middle of her father’s parlor she surveyed the room and all the relics contained within. She was a child once more, buried under the evening’s revelations and unable to find the strength to lift the weight of them off. Lyssa looked once more to the dark orb resting by her bed and floated towards it. Pressing her fingertips to it, it glowed and visions began as they often did. Immediately she was hit with feelings of sweltering heat. The sound of metal gnashing against metal ringed in her ears as she struggled to see through plumes of dark smoke. For a moment she could see glimpses of fire pits and dwarves covered in soot and sweat, all of who rushed to construct strange, foreign metal objects the likes of which Lyssa had never seen. The labor of Dwarves was no business of hers though, not now any way.

Lyssa did her best to drive her thoughts from the smog-covered landscape to more personal visions. She concentrated and immediately her mind was tugged through time and memory to a place more familiar: her apartment. She was now at her father’s desk surrounded by tomes and papers. Moving her hand into frame, she could see she was no longer herself but a man, her father. She struggled to hold the vision, and watched her father’s hands excitedly rifle through the books and scribble notes onto a number of scrolls. Names like “Zagyg” and “Ygradere” and “Bayerton” littered the pages as Modius continued to research. Feeling seemed to return to Lyssa’s body as the connection to her father’s memory deepened. She clutched the orb close to her chest as tear after tear slid past her thin, brown eyelashes down her freckled cheek. Lyssa was overwhelmed as Modius’ ambition was revealed in total. A final glimpse from the past was gleaned: an aged scroll with the ornate drawing of a family tree. “YGRADERE”, it read across the top; Modius, quill in hand, quickly trailed the roots past Zagyg and those who came before to another name: Violetta. Just as Modius scribbled his signature in an empty branch next to hers, the vision ended. As if rising out of a violent tide, Lyssa opened her eyes and inhaled to catch her breath, the tears on her cheeks evaporating into small trails of flame as she did so. Lyssa continued to stand in silence as the noise of the real world returned to full volume.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

The finals for the B class entries began with the Specialized Fighter finals: the cavalier Earl of Granrud, Vetnik Talthraudii versus Moira Steelshaper, holy paladin of Cortox. Before exiting the pen, Moira smiled and wished Vetnik luck. Deep down, she believed his affection for her as revealed in a letter to her in Greyhawk would outweigh his desire to win. It then surprised her that, when in the arena, he launched into her with all the might and fury of a born-and-bred barbarian! It was simply no contest and Vetnik brought the duel to a swift and surprising end. The interest of the crowd was arrested by the quick round, and their cheers for Vetnik’s victory and cries to see more of the competition surged through Vetnik, who spent a moment to take it all in. Seeing his companion struggled to rise to her feet was a sobering sight, and Vetnik quickly rushed to her side to assist her.

“I’m all right, thank you friend,” Moira said, gently pushing him away as she excused herself back to the pens. Vetnik then knew his mistake. Lyssa watched from the sidelines, embarrassed for Moira but almost relieved at the sight of Vetnik’s disposition despite winning his title. He stood in the arena and struggled to keep Moira in view before the flood of cheering volunteers rushed to magically mend him and announce his victory. As the officials raised his arms in the air for victory, Vetnik looked back towards the pens and saw the defeated paladin collect her things silently, and return to the rest of the party. Never before had a victor had such a dissatisfied look upon his face.

Next up were the Multiclass contests. Grum (under an assumed alias) was pitted against a human thief/fighter named Rodor Ironknife who fought with dual short swords. Their battle was a tense one that held the audience on the blade’s edge. By the slimmest margin, Grum walked away the victor in the combat portion of the duel! In the skills portion, Grum won upsets in several categories where Rodor was heavily favored, cementing Grum’s title as the winner of the B class. Grum exhaled a sigh of relief. The contest was far too close for his comfort.

Priests followed, and after facing down a Dwarven devotee of Thor and a brown and green robed priest of Ulaa, Armod Steinson, Trisoll faced his last challenger of the division. His opponent was a human priest of Saint Cuthbert named Aldred Helmhew. Dressed in dark green robes, Aldred bore the golden starburst sigil of his deity and carried into the arena with him the traditional golden mace of his priesthood. Prior to entering the arena, Trisoll had a conversation with his opponent in the pen that gave him an idea. Trisoll had told Aldred he wished that the priest of St. Cuthbert could “see the light”. After sidestepping Aldred’s initial attack, Trisoll cast Continual Light on the eyes of the priest and blinded him — an inspired move that roused the crowd to the edge of their seats! Before Aldred could intone a prayer curing the condition, Trisoll cast Silence on him and stifled the priest’s very voice. He finished off his blind and mute opponent by summoning a Spiritual Hammer which delivered a crushing mystical blow to his opponent. Trisoll was victorious the B class for Priests and Clerics. He helped his opponent off the ground and patted them on the shoulder as a show of good sportsmanship before being carted out of the arena to cheers. Unlike his barbarian companion, Trisoll lapped the praise up and waved to the adoring audience with much delight.

Next, the crowd and party watched as Lyssa prepared for the final round of her division. Her opponent was a stoic mage covered in ornately-trimmed grey robes. Iban the Grey was quiet as he entered the arena, and bore neither staff nor rod. Made anxious by the intense magic she could feel vibrating throughout the arena from the composed mage, Lyssa quickly (and nervously) dispatched an Irritation spell. The crowd muttered to themselves at the unconventional move, which found Iban spending his turn itching furiously at his lower back. Some even chuckled and jeered at the young wild mage. “What does she think she’s doing?!” one attendee said to their party, while another others cries out “Get on with it! We came to see some magic!” Lyssa did her best to block out the comments, but if they wanted a show she would give it to them! She raised her arm and pointed at Iban, who had scratched himself clean of the magical affliction, and summoned at her side another flame arrow which she sent hurtling towards the grey mage. While there was impact, Iban stood defiant, his robes billowing as the flames fell to the ground around him. Iban’s composed expression broke and with a furrowed brow he opened his palm up and within it Lyssa could see a swirling orb of cool, snow-flecked air. Suddenly, a chill went up Lyssa’s spine and goosebumps populated her skin, and as she exhaled, she noticed she could see her breath. Shivering, Lyssa looked around but saw no visible disturbance that could account for the sudden change of temperature. Lyssa looked back towards Iban and their eyes met; as a sudden and brief flash of red flickered in his eyes, Iban forcefully closed his fist and appeared to extinguish the swirling air in his palm. A small piece of hail fell from the sky above and bounced off her shoulder. Before she could properly look to the skies, an even larger hailstone rocketed from the sky and crashed down against her skull. Iban stood silently with closed fist as more and more hailstones rained down upon the unsuspecting mage. He watched and she cowered and collapsed to the ground as his spell continued to rain down pellets of ice upon her back and knees. As the Ice Storm calmed, Lyssa managed to regain her composure. With furiously burning eyes she reached out her hand and hurled one of Melf’s Minute Meteors. The flaming orb zipped through the air but missed its target, exploding only feet away from Iban (who did his best to shield himself from the blast.) As Iban lowered his robed arm from down around his face he saw a fearsome sight: Lyssa’s arms engulfed in magical fire. With a sharp war cry, she let loose a jet of flame that swallowed the grey mage whole. As she withdrew the fires, his body collapsed unconscious to the ground. Lyssa stood to a roaring cheer from the audience. Officials from the games rushed in to both cart the fallen and smoking Iban out of the arena, and to rush the battered Lyssa to the winner’s circle! Lyssa limped beside them with an expression of confusion mixed with embarrassment.

The penultimate contest was devoted to the Bards, long known to be a crowd favorite event. Thom (as Dim Razor) went up against Hawk Osricsson, a human Bard who carried with him a beautiful and delicately-crafted small harp. Skills were first and Hawk, though human, sang an Elvish ballad so beautiful and stirring that the whole crowd was hushed by the song of reverence. Always the entertainer, Dim Razor took the opposite plan and came out with a thunderous anthem that broke the crowd from their whispered tones and got the crowd clapping and stomping along. Winner: Dim Razor! Hawk was none too pleased since his talents were in music, not combat. Hawk began the combat round with a lucky break from Thom’s defensive blade spin, but the battle was to only slump downhill for the human bard as Thom managed to land two critical hits. His first was in mid-battle, where he injured Hawk’s arm into uselessness. Before Hawk could fully recover, Thom let loose with the butt of his blade and delivered a concussive blow to the Bard’s head. The crowd cheered the name Dim Razor as Thom took his place as winner of the B Class Bards. Thom triumphantly banged his drums and kept the crowd arrested to his beat as he trotted out of the arena and back to meet with his friends.

After the main event of the evening, the finals of the Fighters, there took place a ceremony presided over by Warian Greenshield where all winners from each of the three classes were each presented with 2,000 gold pieces. Spellcasters spiced up the ceremony with small magical cantrips, fireworks, and color displays as the carnival performers outside of the stadium performed. The declaration of cross-class challenges followed. The winner of the C class division, a _________ named __________ stepped to Ventik and issued a challenge. Ventik, who had been feeling nothing but terrible since his “victory” over Moira, took the opportunity to take the challenger to task by venting a bit of frustration and showing everyone in attendance what a barbarian could do. The crowd roared as Vetnik defeated the ________ with merciless precision, winning an additional 2,000 gold. Alas, as he walked victorious from the arena, the high of victory seemed to escape him. There was no solace in his victory. Moira’s impassioned smile was no longer there to greet him, and as he returned to his party, the sting of his win over Moira only seemed to burn even more.

The only B to A challenge was issued by Slean Beechbranch to A class winner Fisk Moonford. The contest started with combat, with skills to follow. In the midst of combat, Slean leaned in close to Fisk as he appeared to whisper something in his ear. Slean underhandedly drove his blade through Fisk’s heart, killing him instantly. The crowd composed not only of men, but women and children alike, began to shriek in horror. This was an especially troubling act, as it appeared Slean had been able to breach the protective magics that dampened magical damage and prevented fatal physical damage from being done. “Oi! Where’s my gold?!” Slean cried out, no care given to his fallen opponent or to the mothers covering their children’s horrified eyes. When no move was made to pay him he grew more indignant. “Where is my coin? I know the rules…where’s my damn gold!” Two unnaturally large goons entered the field silently and placed their meaty hands upon Slean, dragging him out with little effort on their part Slean out. The crowd was arrested in a hush awe, with only Slean’s protests cutting through the silence.

A representative of Warian Greenshield visited all of the Bards and presented them with 50 pieces of platinum each to distract the crowd with music and performance while they did away with the corpse. Of the five recruited, only Dim Razor and the two bards he personally defeated (the half-elf lyrist Scur Tindagger and the other drummer, the female Yasha Twelvefingers) managed to keep up. The other two — the female Isidor of the Pale Ruins and the Tiger Nomad Shurik (of Hoscha) — fell behind the beat and departed the field to return their pay. The Bards succeeded in turning the mood, and the games concluded in a way that left the crowd feeling mostly positive about the season. As the attendees departed and the vendors packed up their goods, Thom was approached by a man who asked if he’d be interested in any after hours action. When asked about the company he keeps, he replied, “only my horses”.
The mystery man asked Thom to hang around until the crowds were all gone. “We’ll talk later,” the man said with a bit of a wink. Moments later, Grum was approached as well and asked the same question. Grum replied, “I’m with people.”
“I hope they’re not that cavalier and paladin that have yet to leave, because they are definitely not going to want to get in on this.”
Lyssa, meanwhile, stayed to herself in introspective contemplation. The first time adulation in such an explosively massive way felt overwhelming, and she spent her time trying to contain and process all of it. She did take notice to Moira and Vetnik from afar, ready to pounce on Vetnik should his interaction with Moira displease her in any way. Lyssa watched though, and saw the prince in what appeared to be low spirits. Lyssa kept herself at bay and continued to stand by in silence. Trisoll had other opinions on the weirdly celebration-less air. “For a bunch of winners, you’re all pretty dour right now!”

Their traveling companions from Raven’s Claw returned to meet with the party from Greyhawk, all collectively expressing their disappointment in not placing. “The next season’s games are ours for the taking!” Galrim exclaimed, trying to lift his own men’s spirits. They fully and heartily congratulated Trisoll, Vetnik, and Lyssa before seeking out the Black brothers with the same message: they represented the characteristics of Raven’s Claw with honor and that they should share the honor with whomever they feel deserves it. They said their goodbyes and set themselves back on the road onto new adventures.

The mysterious man from after the games stalked the fairgrounds once more looking for Dim Razor and (Grum’s assumed name) and after finding them, revealed to them the secret of the after-hours dark games. Gone would be the magical dampening fields in favor of an all-out, no holds barred bloodsport, where the winner who takes their fatal victory would receive tenfold their share of gold — graciously put up by more discreet thrill-seekers looking for action. The brothers took a moment to deliberate. Grum decided that he could not kill for money and declined. Thom also declined, but not out of moral objection, but apprehension for the suspicious nature of these so-called dark games (if such games existed and lacked all manner of rule and order, what was to stop the organizers from killing he and his friends despite winning or losing?) Lyssa was last approached by the sketchy man, but seeing the rest of the party packing their things and mounting their horses, decided to take the ride home.

No more than a mile out of town, the party was set upon by eight grizzled bandits hoping to relieve them of their winnings. Vetnik was first to act and wounded two separate thieves with the slashing of his longsword. Quite annoyed by the encounter, Lyssa lifted her hand and summoned a mighty Fireball, a spell that was conjured with such intensity that it burned all of the bandits and left them smoking in the road. Vetnik sheathed his blade and as he did so, turned back to Lyssa and tipped his helmet to her — a genuine act that only perplexed Lyssa even more.

Several days later on their journey back to Greyhawk, the party happened upon a grizzled man berating four young children picking small plants from the grasses. Seeing the disheveled children at the mercy of this man, Moira immediately stopped her horse and dismounted. “Vetnik?” she asked, turning towards the barbarian prince. He complied and the pair headed over. As they approached, Moira noticed a long, thin switch in the man’s belt with a well-worn handle. Turning towards the children, she could see not only filth but lashes up and down the backs of their little legs. The man, alerted by the sounds of armored boots, spun around.
“This doesn’t concern you, piss off!”
Vetnik grabbed the man without word or concern and wrenched his arm up behind his back.
Moira approached the children while Vetnik subdued the grizzled man. “What are you children doing out here? Has this man harmed you?” The children were dead eyed at first, but at the sight of Moira’s warm grace, they began to break down and huddled together in tears. It appeared the paladin’s fears were confirmed.
“Those is my children, you slag!” the grizzled man barked at Moira, whose eyes were a mix of pity and fury. Enraged by this, Lyssa too dismounted and left the Black brothers and Trisoll to their mounts. Vetnik wrenched the man’s arm harder at the sound of the insult, dislocating his shoulder and causing the man to cry out for mercy, “let me and my kids go!”
Lyssa strode past Vetnik and the grizzled man and with a wave of her hand, cast Blindness over him before moving towards Moira. “My eyes…My eyes, I can’t see! What have you done, you sodding witch!”
“Where are you children from?” Moira asked sweetly, kneeling down to their level with Lyssa looming behind. The children stayed cowered together, frightened and afraid to speak. “It’s alright, I promise you are safe now!” Moira assured. She removed her gauntlet and extended her hand to them. One child stepped forward.
“Beloth” he said in a shrunken, dry voice.
“And you don’t know who this man is?”
The child looked to his captor for approval, but seeing him incapacitated, quickly shook his head from side to side before retreating back to the other children.
“Thank you,” Moira replied, her voice cracking. Turning to Lyssa, she asked, “please watch them” and stomped her way towards Grum and his mount. “Do you have any rope?”
Grum shrugged and began to rummage through his bundle.
“We ought to just burn him and leave his sorry corpse.” Lyssa shouted out, keeping an awkward side-eye on the children (who seem both intimidated and fascinated by her.)
“Though he is despicable,” Moira began as she returned with Grum’s rope in hand, “it is not our place to act as his judge and executioner. That is what the law is for.”
As Moira approached Vetnik and the prisoner, Vetnik expressed his own dissatisfaction with Moira’s plan. “You heard it from the children’s mouths.”
“Our priority needs to be getting these children back to their homes.” Moira countered.
“Very well. Give me the rope… please,” Vetnik requested, to which Moira obliged. Moira returned to the children and she and Lyssa escorted them to the horses, where they rode with herself and Trisoll. The children held on tight as they made their way down the road. Vetnik kept to the back and spared the children the awful sight: Vetnik dragging the blinded slaver behind his armored horse, his arms bound to his torso and tied off to the rope, which Vetnik firmly kept at his side as he lead him down the road. The slaver whimpered and struggled to follow, his arms unable to help him keep balance while his sightless-ness only further hindered and humiliated him. “Let me… let me go please! I don’t have nothing else for you, take the kids, leave me here on the road!” The slaver’s cries for mercy only seemed to anger Vetnik more, who yanked at the rope at every protest.

Almost half a day later, the children had directed the party to their home village of Beloth. The village itself was a small hamlet with only a few huts and, at most, 8 families. As their horses entered the hamlet, villagers slowly crept out of their homes, and as they saw their tuckered children sleeping against the backs of the heroes, rushed towards them with tearful cries of thanks! As the women retrieved the children and ushered them into their homes, the men stood and graciously thanked the party. Soon after, their circle of thanks was interrupted by a wretched sight. Dragging him behind like a lame dog on a leash, Vetnik introduced the villagers to the man who had taken their children. Throwing down the pitiful slaver to the ground, the men of the village quickly drug him away shouting and cursing at him. “Bring back the rope when you’re done”, Vetnik called out as they pulled him away. Moments after he disappeared from view, one of the men returned with the rope and quickly returned to the mob of men. The villagers then offered what meager resources they had (food, water, shelter) but the party had plenty on their own and were ready to be home already. They give their final thanks and the party continued their journey home.

Days later just outside of Greyhawk, a drunk was seen stumbling down the road with wine-filled leather bota in hand. He glanced at Moira with uneven, beady red eyes and slurred out to her,“what’s a fit, sweet lass like you in all that armor?” Moira did her best to ignore him at first, but he persisted. “C’mere girlie, I’ve got something you can ride better than that horse of yours!”
“You are uncouth sir,” Moira replied with disgust and she quickly rode ahead. Wanting to deal further humiliation to the blathering wino, Lyssa slowed her pace and began to stare down the man. “What are ya looking at, ya waif?” Lyssa smiled and with a quick flash of her eyes, cast a terrifyingly potent Scare spell over him, leaving him behind a quivering mass on the side of the road.

Once back at Greyhawk, Lyssa was the first to depart. Leaving her horse in Trisoll’s care, she took her bag of winnings and headed back to her apartment for the evening. Vetnik escorted Moira back to her father’s house with Trisoll tagging along. At the doorstep of House Steelshaper, Moira turned to Vetnik and said quietly to him, “There is no fault here, you are a great warrior.”
“Thank you, I’m glad someone thinks so,” replied the cavalier before Moira made her way inside the house.
“So, what’s going on here?” asked Trisoll.
“Let’s go have a drink or several,” Vetnik replied.
“Well, ok!” the cleric heartily agreed.

The Black brothers made a first stop off at their shared home, stashing away their newly acquired riches. Grum remained in for the evening while Thom made his way to the bazaar after dark to spend some coin. After hours of perusal, he found a number of magical items for sale, though most were outside of his price range. He settled on a Horn of Fog, an Elixir of Youth, and a Potion of Heroism before heading home.

Vetnik and Trisoll made a stop at Pimpleton Manor to stable their horses and check in with Zemilay, who they learned was enjoying some alone time with his reunited love, Xanti. Vetnik left a note while Trisoll tried his best not to think about it and together they headed to the Dripping Blade (per Trisoll’s suggestion.) Trisoll explained that the tavern belonged to Thom and Grum’s mother, Lady Morgana Black, and that the place was much nicer inside then it might initially appear (though the outside was still much nicer than when the Lady Black acquired it). Inside, the pair indulged in four pints of ale each. While this was just enough to get Vetnik on the cusp of drunkenness, it was more than enough to get Trisoll fairly inebriated. During the course of this, the two had a conversation about Vetnik’s feelings for Moira and discussed possibly moving on in light of his defeating her at the Games. Trisoll in his slurred speech advised him to go with whatever he truly feels is right.
“If you want her, go after her! If not, well… I know plenty of girls who would fawn over a strapping knight like yourself!”
“No, not those kind of girls,” Vetnik replied, protesting the off-color suggestion. Vetnik, in his ale-laced state, continued to meditate on what it might be like to exploit his royal heritage in the quest to meet someone. With the night coming to an end for both men, Vetnik took the drunken cleric and carted him back towards Pimpleton Manor. Vetnik continued to ponder if whether or not his quest to win the hand and heart of the pure-of-heart Steelshaper girl was a vain one, all the while doing his best to reign his friend in from drunkenly engaging with other nightowls in slurred, jovial pleasantries.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Grum continues with Thurmin training for the next 3 days. Knowing Thurmin’s true agenda, Grum is indifferent and waits to play his hand to see how his agenda develops. Thurmin doesn’t press the matter of insurrection beyond the night of the bazaar. He instead takes him through his trial runs in preparation for the games.

Moira spends one of three days cloistered in the church of Cortox, praying for guidance. Trisoll spends his remaining three days in Greyhawk wandering, enjoying the city he lives in.

After Thom’s competition, Trisoll visits Lyssa.
“Hello?”
“What do you want?”
“I think it’s late and you’ve been drinking what do you want?”
“I have but my dad… he’s pretty pissed. He feels disrespected and… he’s just trying to help you—“
“Trying to help me?”
“Yes,
“I’m better now, I’m fine.”
“Ok… well, yeah. Well, I’ll tell my dad you’re ok. I don’t know if you’re still against physical contacts like hugs but… yeah, I’m gonna go sleep. G’nite Lyssa. I’m glad you’re better now.”

Lyssa spends the next few days, experiments. When she returns to see Ebevaria, she sees a more tutorly witch. Still condescending, she sees the raw energies she’s playing with and is going to teach Lyssa the techniques to shape the wild stuff of magic. Ebevaria brooches the subject of wild mage. She explains Lyssa’s temper makes the magic fluctuate, so instead of rejecting the anger, she will learn to harness it. “If you want to be truly a sorceress to be feared, you’ll sit at my side and soak up every ounce of my knowledge.”

“I’ve been invited to go to the games.”
“Some other. It’s just chasing wealth and frail concepts of glory.”
“If do go… what can I do to ensure that my magic won’t misfire. Since it’s quite certain there is no one like you. If you do come back, you had better come back with tales of glory. Or not at all.”
“Yes… Miss Ebevaria.”
Ebevaria dismisses the mage, and as she exits, she glances at a letter on Ebevaria’s desk. She spots Zemilay’s broken wax seal. Fearing the rush of break ins, Lyssa takes the orb with her and departs for the games.

Thom spends his next three days crafting tanto throwing daggers. He makes a decent, working pair.

The morning of the tenth, the party rendezvous with Raven’s Claw for a breakfast at Pimpleton manor. George comes to the door and sees Xost.
“Is sir Xostin here?”
George calls to Vetnik. “There’s a Master Xostin here to see you.”
“Sir Vetnik!” Vetnik picks him up with a jolly hug.
“Aggg! Thank you. My companions told me you took on a boon?”
“Yes.”
“But why? “
“I’m a man of my word and stand for something greater.”
Galrim enters and slaps Xostin on the shoulder.
“He’;s a good man who follows thru! Look at him, he has to!”

“This was quite eye opening, my visit here. Do you feel ready for the games?”
Lyks hobbles out from his study. Overhearing their discussion “If they need anything, I’m sure I’ll be able to supply it. We usually talk about it over breakfast.”
Alwyn struts over. “Druid? Quite the horn, I’m Alwyn. Is this your house?”
“No, I’m merely here and watch over these children to make sure they don’t die.”
“These are hardly children, sir! I’ve watched over them since they were children.”
“I see. Spend much time in th woods?”
“Not so much. I do get to ride Snowflake.”
“Snowflake?”
“My pegasus.”
“Wat?”
“Yes. She’s greying but still sturdy.”
Alwyn points out his party. Galrim is there leader.

Lyssa knocks at the door. In the commotion, Moira opens and sees the mage. “Lyssa, hello.”
“So, I hear we’re going to the games today.”
“Yes, um… Uncle Lyks, Lyssa is here.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to games together.”
“She’s forbidden to enter.”
“She isn’t inside. Extend the courtesy to let her in.”
“Will she obey?”
Moira waves her in quietly. George sits everyone down for a large breakfast. Dwarves are boisterous and enjoy their cuisine. The gnome smokes, and the elves are overly aloof. They are however impressed to see George capable of making adequate Elvish food.

After breakfast, Raven’s Claw goes to fetch their own wagon. The company gathers their horses (Thom = Starbright, Grum = Sexy, Vetnik = Cleddene) Lyssa and Moira are still undecided and not motivated to any particular horse. Trisoll rides up with Raven’s Claw in attempt to strengthen bonds.

The games themselves are mobile. They set up in an area while they build up and strike their portable games grounds. Merchants also make the journey in order to accommodate the 10000 attendees. They make their way to the battlegrounds up towards Western Furyondy. Ovet the next 13 days, they tell them of the various duels that take place. All our combat duel based except for the priests, who are forbidden from using healing spells in duels built around blessings and combat. in duels Winner gets 2000gp. Winner of cross class either duels where challengers gets 5000. Costs 50gp for entry.

The journey brings the two parties together. The dwarves are fun loving while the elves are moody. The gnomes seems to be a more deliberate, less flighty gnome than the others encountered. On the four day, On the road, they see blood and tracks. A trail leads off the road into the woods. Ventik looks out and does, as well as Thom. They deduce a large, healthy wolf caught something drug it off. Tufts of brown fur kick it up in the breeze. “Looks like there’s a wolf around.” Thom remarks. Beyond the murder scene, they see a wedding procession coming down the road. Lyssa glares hardcore while Vetnik courtesies. Suddenly, their woos of happiness are followed by shrieks of fear. Raven’s Claw bring their wagon to a halt and the rogues pour out of their wagon. Vetnik charges forward. “WOLVES!” Flurmin calls out. Vetnik leads the charge to save the party.

Thom is first to arrive and spots 8 wolves snapping at a bridal party, women shrieking. Thom releases a color spray and knocks a wolf unconscious with its blast. Vetnik rides in, slaying a wolf with his longsword and piercing another with his lance. Grum shoots at two wolves, piercing one and killing the injured one. One wolf ignores the attacking party and is dragged off her horse and eaten by a wolf. A second leaps at Thom and bites at his arm. A third rushes to Flurmin but the dwarf is swift to sidestep. A forth claws at Lyssa and snags her. A fifth viciously leaps over the second wolf and tears into his left arm, drawing blood. Galrim rushes over to the wolf that attacked Thom and cuts into the beast with a glowing blue axe. He splits its skull in two! Galather fires off a pair of arrows, the first missing and the second jamming itself into the wolf’s shoulder. Xostin jams his mini longsword into the eye of an attacking wolf. “We don’t have to slaughter these wolves!” Trisoll cries out before closing his eyes and telepathically asks the wolves to run away. “My friends are going to kill you! They are not your food, go!” All except one deeply who is deathly injured by the arrow. Vetnik cuts its head off. After they see a bridal party cowering, morning over their fallen sister. Alwyn offers to bind the body, bless the corpse. They gives the men proper thanks. The bride herself gives the men of the party a parting kiss. “If you had not been here, this day would have been far more tragic.” Lyssa mines the wolf corpse for organs. The Raven’s Claw gents offer to escort the weary bridal party back home, but their latent xenophoba prevent them from accepting.

Lyssa’s herbalism rolls
10 successful rolls
- Comfrey
- Belladonna
- Cow parsnip
- Woodrose
- Fennel
- Billberry
- Darnell
- Arnica
- Darnell
- Hemp (Trisoll mentions his admiration for the odor of this particular herb to Lyssa.)

On Day 8, the party sees a militia running through drills and exercises. They see their banners and deduce they’re from Freeburrow. It appeared according to the path taken, the bridal party was on their way to Belgen. On Day 12, the party comes across a theatre troupe of masked performers and mimes and clowns. During the evening, they pair off into teams of 2 for the evening watch. Thom tries to summon a familiar but no such luck during his watch. Vetnik pairs up with Galather, who is pretty stoic. Galather roams while Vetnik sits in silence and watches. Lyssa is stuck with Flurmin, who attempts to talk of getting many riches at the games. Lyssa is unamused and stays silent. Xostin and Grum take the next watch. Grum asks him about his illusions. “I find your magic interesting.”
“The Gnomish people have always been drawn to illusions. The imagination of a gnome is truly magical, and something to behold. I know the humans have a specific study, but the school really belongs to us.”
“That’s great.
Thom and Galrim pair up for their watch. Galmrim gives him more insight into Raven’s Claw. They ask very little, the rewards are there. Represent the qualities and the rest they can’t be bothered with. Going places with a loose brotherhood!” Galrim continues to regale Thom with tales of their past adventures. Galrim’s discussion grows more impassioned, which seems to attract the attention of something else. Thom spots an arrow whiz by Galrim’s head. Thom hears the whistle and pulls the arrow out of the air and tosses it aside with a juggling motion.”
“By the gods!” A voice calls out. He steps out, hands up. “I mistook you for a deer, I’m so sorry. That was marvelous, but I’m so sorry.”
“You’re telling me you thought two men were deer!”
“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to te dwarf!”
Galrim asks XOstin to cast a spell and moments later, waves the archer away.
“Where did you get such timing?!”
“My mother!”
The last shift is covered by Trisoll and Alwyn who share a polite and quite discussion about their opposing deities.

Thunderstorms carry throughout the night. In the morning, rain has left leaving behind clouds. As they ride up, they see a number of tents and wagons of every variety surrounding the grounds. Most sell food with a few merchants. Entering the grounds, they see two corrals. One line leads to warm up rooms and training areas, while the other leads to seating and certified vendors. One man stands at the front taking down information and the competition fee, $50gp.

Throughout the day, each member from every other party makes it into the top six. Thom enters as his masked alter ego, Dim Razor. Every category tent is bustling with activity. Humans, elves and demihumans gather together. As the 7th rounds begin, the gates close again. From a podium in the middle, the grandmaster (Orium) welcomes everyone for coming and enjoying the games all day. A drunken, rowdy crowd cheers wildly.
“I’d like to welcome Barin Jermain, grand of the Furyondyian army.” A man in his late 50s still sturdy and verily. Next to him “Tovylyus Stilmyst, aide to the Grand High Elf Queen.” In the next box, he points to a third whose identity is not addressed. There is something eerily familiar about the third man to Thom and Grum. In the commotion of food vendors, the cheeseman Noell Graven runs into the party. “So nice to see you all again! Tell you something, or lane is a place of joy and growth and inspiration. The statue of Cirilli was told was gift from you people. That’s an incredible gesture, something we cannot possibly repay you for!” Noeel reaches in and gives Thom and Vetnik a bear hug. “I didn’t know you all were competing.”
“Just come cheer us on!” Vet
“You have no doubt I’ll be there!”

Another merchant makes his way around as Noeel continues towards the seating. He asks if anyone has any diseases or ailments and offering his wares. “Ummm…” It’s revealed that it’s Iggy Olvero.
“Not so fast” Ve
“I was under the influence, I heard the spell was broken. So thanks to you. Do you need any polstices.”
“Sure. We’ll a good sample or two.”
“Of all the folks we liberated, none have shown signs of guilt.” Th
“I have memories of you tying me up!”
“Do you have memories of you untying yourself.”
Lyssa approaches, holding her dagger. Iggy drops the rest of his sack. “Here! Enjoy the polsitces!”
Moira steps forward. “You have repaid your debt this day. Go, now.”

Vetnik steps into his ring for specialized fighters. Cavaliers, paladins, rangers, and the like gather to fight. Vetnik’s first opponent is Ruris Silveraxe, a dwarves paladin. A curious sight, one that Vetnik has never encountered before.
“Hello sir, I am Rurik.”
“Vetnik.”
“I’m a paladin to the god Silverbeard. Best of luck to you.”
“Likewise.”
They enter the battlefield. Rurik Silveraxe rushes Vetnik with a silver axe but Vetnik is swift enough to dodge. Vetnik swing with his longsword and crashes it upon him. Vetnik lashes out two more times with his sword, the first connects and the second misses as he rolls out of the way. Rurik leaps back to his feet and swings four times but misses all four. Vetnik returns with a cleaving blow and a second slash to the side. Vetnik hits him again with his sword but misses with his second blow. A dazed Rurik cuts at Vetnik’s armor with his axe successfully. Vetnik being younger and more agile lands another hit. Rurik responds by knocking his axe against Vetnik. Rurik quickly tries to connect with three more hits but fails. Vetnik, tired of this challenger, slaps the paladin unconscious. The crowd cheers humbly.

Grum fights a figure cloaked in full grey robes, introduced only as Moard.
“Alright Moard, bring it on!”
In the arena, Grum draws his longsword and axe. The silent Moard is struck with both weapons. Moard retaliates with a pair of daggers. When the robed warrior moves, Grum notices her more female shaped form clinging underneath. Grum hits with his hand axe again, but Moard quickly whips around stabbing twice. Moard kicks twice but misses. Grum slaps Moard with the side of his axe. Grum swings again with his longsword with such loose form that he falls and drops his sword. The crowd cries out in an awed hush as Grum quickly snaps his sword back up. Moard quickly takes the initiative to strike, kicking once and missing and kicking a second time in his stomach. She attempts to smash at him twice more but misses. Grum rolls over and strikes with both his longsword and hand axe. Moard staggers back and as she gets her bearings, Grum misses his two strikes. Moard punches Grum in the face and chest and rushes back. Grum struggles to hit at first but the second strike is forceful, knocking Moard back a bit. The pair take a pause to breathe before Grum strikes twice, the first misses the second is measly. Moard tries to hit but misses both times. Moard is shaky on her first hit but the second move she quickly bashes Grum in the kneecap, hitting a cluster of nerves. “Ahhhhh!”
Moard reacts by slashing twice but misses. Grum misses his hit with the longsword and then his axe. Moard shows signs of exhaustion and misses Grum again. Grum strikes twice and misses twice. Grum tries to muster strength but Moard takes the window and sticks Grum right in the torso and knocks the wind out of him, sending him falling to the ground. The nurses rush in and do they best to tend to Grum. They lead him in their arms to the Exhibition of Skills, following after a silent Moard. In the tent stands two clothed men, unmoving. Moard moves in first and fails, with her mark grabbing her wrist. Grum staggers to steal but is caught as well. They are next ushered to a pair of locked chests. Moard struggles and fails to open the look. Grum is quite the opposite and with one flick of the wrist cracks the chest open. Grum’s future opponents acknowledge his skill. The next round is a find/remove trap challenge. Moard goes first and finds the trap successfully. She easily takes the trap off the door. Grum moves in and finds the trap as well, and effortlessly takes the trap off the door, more skillfully than Moard. The crew drags out a tiger cage. Grum goes first and easily sneaks past the sleeping beast without disturbing it. Moard attempts to do the same but the tiger wakes and roars furiously. The following round, a crew man is sent to a nearby tower. There, he will attempt to shoot them in shadows. Both succeed, but Grum becomes one with the shade. He eventually spots Moard, her robe partially visible, and she is struck. Crew men bring out two chests and ask them to hear noises. Moard and Grum both fail in their guesses, opening up to reveal a bird. They are next ushered to a wall where both climb. Moard slinks up but Grum skitters up much quicker. As he reaches the top, Grum is called out as the winner and the crowd cheers.

Lyssa is quiet in the pen, both nervous to explore her the new magics opened to her thanks to her studies with her new tutor. She puts on a game face though and keeps to herself. Her first opponent is a human wizard, Harakaitz. Lyssa is first to cast, and silently stares the wizard down. Her eyes a red glow, the crowd watches as suddenly the human wizard begins to shriek and cower to the ground under the influence of a scare spell. Using this opportunity, Lyssa quickly dispatches him by conjuring a large flaming bolt from the sky and sends it crashing down upon the wizard, putting him down for the count. The crowd cheers and Lyssa returns to the pen a little more confident, feeling the intensity of the new magics surging through her.

In the Bard battle, Thom fights against a half elven traditional bard, Skimdagger. He fights with a shortsword and plays a lute. They enter battle first. “The songs we’ll sing about later, eh friend?”
Thom shakes his hand and laughs. “Indeed!”
Thom draws his wakashazi blade and strikes twice but misses. Skimdagger swipes with a short sword but misses. Thom slashes again and hits but Skimdaggermisses twice in a row. Thom slashes again and hits. Skimdagger stabs and hits and Thom slashes twines. The first is a deft hit but the second lands against Skimdagger’s head. The blow quickly knocks the bard down upon the ground. So struck is he that he misses his hit. Thom misses his first strike but bashes him in the nose with the butt of his blade. Thom is triumphant, walks over, and helps the bard up of the ground. Thom and Tindagger are robed by attendants. “I was truly outclassed as a warrior. I pray my skill with the lute serves me well.”
“Best of luck to you.”
“Something tells me you don’t need it!”
Thom begins a song but stumbles upon his first couple hits. Tindagger busts out old school lute music that is comforting and rouses the crowd to cheers. They enter a sudden death where Tindagger bluffs his lute playing. So offensive was it to the fest organizer that his goons were called to escort Tindagger out of the arena.

In the next round, Vetnik is up against Manton the Bold, a cavalier from a different order. They discuss and agree to joust. Manton wishes Vetnik the best but is cold and stoic in doing so. The pair mount their horses and take up their spears. in the first run, Vetnik smashes in Manton’s shield and bangs against his arm. The second run, they fly past each other. The pair reach other, Vetnik just a moment ahead. Manton rushes past and the pair continue for several rounds, unable to hit each other. After several rounds unencountered, Manton finally conedes. As the announcer calls Vetnik out as the winner, Tyvollus stands and curses Vetnik as an escapee. He casts 3 magic missiles from his staff, knocking him off his horse. In the commotion, Vetnik and Thom look out into the boxes. Thom remembers the face from a painting in his youth. It’s Nerof Gasgal, the old mayor of Greyhawk! His jovial, surrounded by wenches and wine and enjoying the games.

In her second match, Lyssa faces off against another human, a mage in brown robes named Wregan Blackwood. As her namesake indicates, she carries around an ebony wooden staff. She seems adverse to Lyssa and is quick to enter the ring and get the fight over with. Lyssa conjures a fireball, more massive than she’s ever casted one before, and launches it at the unsuspecting mage. Regain pounds her blackened staff in front of her and attempts to split the fireball. She fails though, and the onslaught of magical flame knocks the mage down and out. Flames burn on the ground around her, but shockingly, Wregan’s body itself seems unaffected. Lyssa approaches and looms over Wregan’s body. She holds her hand over the unconscious mage as if it conjure something. Suddenly, the flames surrounding the two women burst into nothingness. A remarkable and uncharacteristic act of mercy from her. Moira watches, inspired and moved by her act of compassion. Lyssa’s daze is broken by the cheers from the crowd.

In the second Bard round, Thom faces off against a drummer named Yasha Twelve-Fingers. In combat, she draws a pair of short swords. “I look forward to seeing your skills on the drums.”
“Likewise.”
Thom clumsily drops his wazashazi blade and spends his time picking it up. Yasha rushes in slashing, but misses. Thom recovers and misses both. Yasha misses both of her hits as well. After three more rounds of not hitting, Thom taps her with his wakashazi blade. Yasha misses both hits and Thom follows with a severe hit and follows that with a blow to the right arm and cuts into the girl’s arm. Disabled, Yasha swings with her one good arm but misses. Thom slashes and misses. Yasha and Thom miss again until Thom swipes at her again with his wakashazi blade. He misses another hit but the second hits the left leg and cuts in her thigh. She submits on the verge of consciousness. Thom is a gentleman and helps her up.

Thom notices her drums are more influenced by a different culture. Thom beats his drums with cockiness but Yasha is inspired and dexterous, rousing the crowd in her daze. Thom wins the coin toss and the two agree to combat once more. Yasha jumps in with both arms, but neither hit. Thom hits twice and knocks her around. Thom strikes two more times, but Yasha returns with two connects and stirkes Thom twice in the face. Yasha goes to strike again but falls and drops her weapon. Thom presses his foot against her shoulder and presses her into the ground. He wips his swords around and flashes them into his holsters.

Grum’s next battle is against an elf woman named Asteria Silverkin. In the ring, she asks “Do I know you?”
“Um, I dunno.”
“You’re from greyhawk? I’m from the guild.”
Grum smiles as she tries to work her feminine wiles. “Never saw you looking at me at the guild. Most of the other thieves find their fancy.”
“Well, it’s not polite to stare.”
“Of course. let us speak again when this is decided. I’d wish you luck, but you know…”

Asteria attacks viciously with her daggers from the outset. She jabs at Grum’s left leg and cracks him in the same knee that was injured in the previous round. Asteria winks and kicks away at Grum. Grum charges ahead with his sword and axe, hitting with both. Asteria swings and knocks at Grum while Grum responds with two misses of his own. As Asteria waves her hands around, he notices 9 green painted nails and a red painted pinky. That seems to distract Thom, causing him to miss both hits. Asteria misses as well. Grum hits for 3. Asteria hits for 4. After much back and forth, the fatigue gets to Grum and he topples over and drops his weapon. After a few more rounds, Grum drops his sword again. The crowd begins to boo and jeer at Grum. Asteria hits back but only barely. After a series of blows, she concedes on the combat challenge and the pair immediately move into the exhibition of skills.

Grum goes first and makes the pickpocket just narily. Asteria also makes it just barely. At the locks, Asteria cheeses it on the lock but Grum makes it. Both Grum and Asteria find and dismantle their traps. Asteria moves like a ghost past the tiger but Grum is more sneaky in the Move Silently round. Asteria is increasingly pissed. The round of Shadows Grum also makes, but Asteria makes the Sound Check. In the climb walls, both attempt to climb but both fall off to the jeers of the crowd. A crier announces Grum as the winner!
“I can see why you do so well… we need to talk. Next time I see you at the guild, don’t be surprised if I seek you out.”

Trisoll wins his category and 2000gp. He brings over his opponent to Moira. “Hey Moira, this guy Older the Seeker is a priest of Cortox! You know this guy?”
“No! Hello, Oldor, I am Moira Steelshaper. Paladin of Cortox. How did you come upon his teachings?”
“His teachings are available to those who seek them.”
“Believe me, I’d love to speak with a priest. I have to combat a companion of mine. Someone I’m quite fond of and it fills with me strange feelings.”
“Fear not daughter, everything will work out for the best.”

In the final specialized warrior round, Vetnik goes up against the only other opponent, Moira Steelshaper.

WORK IN PROGRESS…

As the evening takes hold over Greyhawk, the party finishes their dinner at Pimpleton Manor. Thom is first to depart and heads on foot to the Inn of the Weeping Willow. At the Inn, Thom sees his tutor berating a female student for not being as capable as Chan. Chan plays his woodwind with expert precision. “You see, this is how it is done!” The student runs out in tears and bumps into Thom.

“You don’t practice, you waste my time! You see this face? It’s an old face, and I am an old man who has little time for ill commitments!”

Thom approaches the tutor’s table. “This here is a promising new student. What’s your name again?”
“Thom Drum, sir.”
“How could I forget, Thom Drum? Would you do us the pleasure?” he asks, laying out sheet music.
Thom begrudgingly accepts and aces the foreign beat. Lactile’s brows curl up as he smirks, nodding in acknowledgment (especially when Thom hits the difficult part.) “Excellent! A novice student could never have played that. It’s a testament to this man’s dedication and craft.”

A female student in particular, a red-haired ukeleliest, has keen eyes for him. Thom notices and begins to play a charming song while reciting a romantic sonnet. He fails unfortunately, much to her amusement. “I’m sorry, I haven’t attempted acting in ages. Practice makes perfect.”
“You can thank the gods this isn’t an acting class,” Lactile interjects. “I would like to spend more time with you. Chan tells me you’re an honorable man and your skill is apparent.”
“How about some wine then?” Thom asks
“Elvish is preferred. The rest of you be gone! Except for you, Chan.” Lactile Furlo’s students exit in silence, leaving only himself and his two prized students together at a booth.

“I take it you’ve had Elvish wine before?” Lactile notes. “I’m curious about your lineage. Where did you learn these skills?”
“When I was a child, I had a master tutor.”
“What kind of upbringing did you have that would allow for such studies, Tom Drum?”
“Early on, one of constant travel. Later on, I spent my days in the high courts of Greyhawk before traveling again.”
“Now I do believe I recognize you. You’re one of the Black boys, aren’t you? That would explain the refinement and skill. Well, the secret is safe with Chan and I. Operate under a pseudonym if you must.”
Thom silently tips his glass, careful to hide any discomfort at his teacher knowing more than he’d like him to know.
“What plans do you have this evening?” Lactile asks of Thom. “If we could spend some time speaking more about musical theory? Perhaps Chan can show you some of his native skills. You’re both the most impressive in my keep. You know, you and Chan will have to determine at some point who is my star pupil.”
“No plans to speak of sir, other than perhaps earning a bit of coin.”
Thom finishes his wine. Thom decides to perform for the evening in an attempt to earn some coin, beginning with juggling. He’s shaky, but his quick recovery only causes the audience to be more roused. The house raises his rate from copper to silver for being so engaging.

Back at the manor, Moira intercepts George’s tray for Vetnik and heads upstairs to find him.
“George, just leave it at the door,” Vetnik moans.
Moira creaks the door open and enters. “It’s not George.” She enters, armorless and dressed in casual white blousy linens, with her brilliant silver sigil resting on a chain down her bust.
“I noticed you didn’t come down for dinner. You seem so upset lately. Was it Lyssa?”
“I don’t appreciate her accusatory tone. I’m a nobleman, I wouldn’t do anything to offend you or dare take advantage of you.”
“I didn’t think you would. I know you’re a good man, Vetnik. You carry pain though, it’s unnecessary. You’re one of the few people beyond Cortox that I draw strength from.”
Vetnik stays silent for a moment. “It’s hard for me to talk about things like this, my upbringing—”
“I understand. I grew up in a city with the fathers I had. You grew up in a much harsher land.”
“It wasn’t just Granrud that was harsh. I grew up in a cold kingdom.” Vetnik cuts himself off before opening up too much. The pair sit in silence on Vetnik’s bed for a moment more or two before Vetnik hands her a letter. Moira accepts it, unsure of its contents but tucks it away discreetly. As she tucks the note away, she notices something in the corner of the room.
“Are those blacksmithing tools? Is my father—“
Vetnik looks up from his crossed arms and smiles with a bit of flush to his cheeks.
“You’re my father’s apprentice in more ways than one? That’s incredibly sweet and noble.”
Moira reaches across the bed and goes to embrace Vetnik, which he opens up for without resistance.
“I’ll leave you to your dinner. We’ll speak more in the morning.”
“Thank you, Moira.”
Moira looks at the gear and smiles and the pair parts ways.

In the evening, Grum heads to the Thieves Guild. The doorman recognizes Grum, citing Thurmin’s reference, and allows him in. Grum enters and sees the slim blonde Thurmin finishing his meal at a desk. He stands to greet Grum. “Welcome back, Grum!”
“My apologies for interrupting your meal.”
“Not at all. I haven’t seen you in a while. Operating out of the city?”
“Yes, but I’m back.”
“I am duty bound to remind you that even income from outside the city is subject to guild fees, so let’s just go ahead and say that I said that”, Thurman replies with a wink
Grum smiles ever so slightly, “Of course.”
“Very good. What brings you here tonight?”
“I came to train.”
“Very well. Let’s take a walk to the bazaar, we’ll be able to find some things that only come out at night.”

As Grum and his tutor exit the guild, Thurmin looks around before reaching into his pocket. In his hand, an object reacts with a small flash before he returns it to his pocket. “You answered just as I needed you to.”
Grum looks to Thurmin confused. “It was a test and you passed. You’re here with me, and I need more men of your calibre.”
“I’m not sure I follow” Grum whispers.
“We’re going to take down the structure. Nystra is weak and obsessed, and I’m looking for strong men of principle to operate a Thieve’s Guild, not a semi-political organization. Nystra keeps robbing this city and everything around us blind.”
“Can’t say I disagree with that.”
“Right answer, brother.” Thurmin says with a smile, waving Grum on to the bazaar.
The pair of men make their way to the bazaar and Grum watches as Thurmin surveys the booths. Grum spots a goblin, a strange sight for Greyhawk.

“Ahhh… hello, Thurmin. What can I do for you today?” the small, misshapen thing says with a jagged grimace.
“Bazox, this is my brother Grum.”
“Bazox help you Grum. What you come here for?”
“What have I come for?” Grum answers nervously. “Stealth gear perhaps, something to keep me cloaked in the shadows.”
“Yes… I have something you want.” Bazox says, pushing a jar of dark liquid. “It’s dye, makes anything you drench it in blacker than night. 500 gold.”
“Ummm”
“You bring me poor student, Thurmin!”
“I’m not poor, but thats a ridiculous price for non-magical dye.”
“You need to know the rules of the bazaar after dark!”
“What else do you have?” Grum requests
“These lock picks. They’re finest quality.”
Grum inspects them and sees them to be good but not excellent quality. “Sorry, goblin. It’s not what I’m in the market for now.”
“Fah! What else you want? You know any Necromancers?”
“Um… no.”
“Bazox try to help you, what you want?”
Grum tries to haggle for the dye, but the goblin bemoans his price. “There are thieves all across the realm who want my dye! You come here and spit on my business! Bazox might as well starve tonight!”
“So, 300 gold then?”
“Eh, fine. Take it! No more poor students, Thurmin!”
Thurmin and Bazox watch as Grum unscrews the jar and dips his gloves fingers into the lightless black liquid. He pulls his fingers out and holds them up, only to see them almost vanish and blend into the shadows of the bazaar. Grum turns to Thurmin and smiles, to which Thurmin responds with a smile of his own.

At the apartment, Lyssa sees a large coiffer missing but sees nothing overturned or damaged, nor does she doesn’t notice anything pried open. She goes to the Eye of Modius and as she touches it, the orb begins to glow. Soon, the draw of the orb is all that seems to be of importance. The ornate bronze snakes that hold the orb up seem to coil underneath the orb, their gemstone eyes flickering with a red glow. Inside the orb, she sees a vision of small winged creature taking an item and leaving out of the nearby window. She begins to focus and attempt to gain more from the vision but suddenly a sharp pain cuts through her mind. With a white flash, she has an out of body flash back: she sees through Modius’s eyes him casting a spell over the winged creature, who is bound to his lab table. “I am the master, you must never forget that!” The creature groans in pained obedience. The vision cuts out and she returns to reality. She feels weakened. She quickly casts Wizard Lock on the window and casts the orb aside, which has returned to its smoky blackened state. She moves to the chest of three keepsakes and picks up the red glass dagger from Athis. As she contemplates over it, she is overwhelmed with incomprehensible memory of a dimension that shouldn’t exist, an abstract cosmic revelation seen in fragments and felt in powerful waves. The immensity of the thoughts are heavy, and while she is weakened, she realizes there is something deeper to the tales of Cortox. She sets the dagger down and takes a few much needed breaths before placing the dagger in her holster. She does one last check of the room before going to sleep. As she falls deeper into sleep, her rest becomes more fitful as visions of sand, desolation, and hardship flood her subconscious. Unrelenting heat causes her to toss and turn, sweaty through her sheets.

In the morning, the Black brothers come to the manor for a free communal breakfast. They are greeted by the entire Lyks family. Vetnik notices everyone at the table and sits across from Moira. She smiles at him, more intently than usual. He assumes she’s read the letter and suddenly becomes almost nervous.
“Weird that no one’s talking.” Trisoll breaks the silence. “What’d you do last night?”
“Made some coin at the Inn. You?” Thom replies, chowing down on eggs.
“Hung with friends at the House of Comfort.” Trisoll replies cooly.
“Trisoll! We don’t need to hear about this.” Zemilay yelps, uncomfortable by his son’s exploits.
“I didn’t go for that, father! I mean, don’t need to pay women for their company.”
“Mind your conversations more closely in front of your mother, boy.” Zemilay scolds before returning to his breakfast.
“How is tutoring going?” Zemilay asks, chasing sausage with a gulp of tea.
“Yeah, good.” Grum replies vaguely.
“I know you haven’t started with yours yet, Vetnik?”
“I haven’t felt like its the right time, sir.” Vetnik replies.
“My father will tutor him gladly, from one cavalier to another. He’ll be more than happy to pick up the sword again. It’ll be nice to have you around.” Moira responds in turn. Thom takes another sip of his morning drink, glaring at the questionable display of courtship at the table.
“What do you have planned then, Thom?” Zemilay says, noticing his expression.
“Shopping.” Thom says shortly, continuing to stuff his face.
“Anything specific?”
“Nothing particular.”
“I’ll be heading to church this afternoon, uncle. I haven’t tithed in a good while, and they could use some help with services today.” Moira announces.
“Do you need company?” Vetnik asks Moira.
“I’d like that,” Moira replies with a smile.

A knock interrupts their quiet conversation. George answers and comes back with a small letter, with a seal of Orlane addressed to Dim Razor. Zemilay laughs, “Dim Razor? Ha! You have your father’s sense of humor.”
Thom opens the letter and finds it to be correspondence from the Mayor of Orlane, Zakarias Ormond. He writes that the statue in honor of Cirilli Finla has been erected in the town square. She stands with a smile on her face and a key in hand, which is held aloft. It’s modest, but sits on a 5ft pedestal in the center of town.

Trisoll excuses himself, while Vetnik and Moira head to the church of Cortox. Grum takes the afternoon to soak his garments and armor in the uber-dark dye.

Meanwhile, Lyssa wakes up feeling oddly (but thankfully) refreshed and the apartment undisturbed. Despite feeling refreshed, her mind still races with the images and feelings the red glass dagger seemed to trigger. She is left with the feeling that all the stories she’s heard Moira tell of her god, Cortox, might actually have more merit than even the paladin knows. Looking to get out of the apartment, she makes her way to the guild.
“Who are you here to see?” the reception at the guild asks.
“Ebevaria.” Lyssa replies.
“Proceed to the sacristy. She is in her in chambers in meetings but will see you shortly.” he replies, pointing beyond the main chamber.
Lyssa finds the seating area outside Ebevaria’s offices and sits on a bench, flipping through her spell book and fiddling with her newly acquired glass dagger. Suddenly, she realizes an hour has passed and becomes impatient. She stands and puts her ear to the large wooden door. She hears the occasional growl of a large beast and realizes another 20 minutes pass. She knocks and hears no answer. Another 30 minutes pass before Lyssa slowly opens the unlocked door. She peers through the cracked door and sees the flaming silhouette of a large creature roaming about the grand office. Before she can react, a giant glowing hand of magic energy bursts through and drags Lyssa into the room.
“I am impressed. I would’ve thought you would’ve been more impatient given the stories I’ve heard about you.” Ebevaria says sitting in her chair. With a flippant wave of her hand, the glowing hand restraining Lyssa dissipates and Lyssa falls to the ground.
“Well, those stories are based on someone who was suffering from demonic possession.” Lyssa replies, sitting up.
“Oh, I know little butterfly. I’m the one who banished your ‘visitor’.”
A large glowing lion with a mane of fire sniffs and snarls around Lyssa. Lyssa reaches out and finds that the flaming mane produces no noticeable heat.
“What is it?” Lyssa asks, curious about the beast.
“Carthis? He was one of my disobedient students, little butterfly. You’ll take care not to disobey lest you end up like him.”
As Lyssa inches her hand closer, Carthis snarls in displeasure. Ebevaria snaps her fingers, a command that sends the lion strutting back to her side. “So they tell me you’ve been channeling the raw essence of magic. Misfires, mistakes. You seem to be able to cast without components and reciting magical verses.”
“It’s still happening. I thought being freed of that demon would set me right again, but I’m still—“
“Misfiring?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you’re here now, little butterfly. You are now an acolyte.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re a student of mine, you fool! You know, little butterfly, this branch of the school would not exist if not for me. I was the first here after the White Event, and it was I who dedicated my time to understanding the wild surges and fixing broken dolls like yourself.”
“Why have you taken interest in me?”
“Ha! I haven’t. You are a favor. Thank the druid, Zemilay Lyks. It was he who requested you get some help. And all that’s required of you while you’re under my tutelage is patience… and obedience.”
“I can give you patience.”
“I demand obedience. I can turn you into a master, but to do so you will submit to me. You do not question me. I am the teacher, you are the student.”
“I guess we’ll see about that.”
Ebevaria’s calm and slightly cocky expression sours. With a snap of her finger, she silences Lyssa. As Lyssa struggles to conjure sound from her throat, Ebevaria glides over to the young mage and places her hand against her face. Lyssa feels a slight warmth under her palm before she removes her hand. “I have marked you, little butterfly. No one can see it but us. Let it serve to remind you that you are mine.” Ebevaria snaps her fingers again and choking sounds suddenly emerge from Lyssa’s mouth, the silence spell having been lifted. “Calm yourself, little butterfly. I was like you once. I understand ypur anger, it is why I provoke you. I aim to make you better than your hate,” Ebevaria remarks as she slinks back to her chair, passing her fingertips through Carthis’s fiery mane as she takes her seat.
“Fine.” Lyssa says before dashing out of the room. Outside of Ebevaria’s chamber as Lyssa makes her way out of the guild, she notices in the reflective panel in the hallway a fiery orange glowing sigil etched into her cheek. The sight of this only serves to anger Lyssa more, even provoking her to draw the glass dagger. She grips it tight in her hand and does her best to curb her temper. Once she reaches an acceptable calm, she looks into the reflective panel one last time before sheathing the dagger and stomping out of the guild.

“Your letter it surprises me to see someone so… courtly, be so bare and raw in one’s emotion” Moira comments to Vetnik as the pair walk side by side through Greyhawk towards the church of Cortox.
“Well, that was my upbringing. I had to be noble for my father, not show my feelings. But my mother nurtured me. Encouraged me to have a heart.”
“I’m glad to see that side of you. You’re a sweet man.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“Hahaha. Your secret is safe with me. Have you ever thought about coming to services at the church?”
“As much as I hate to decline the invitation of a beautiful woman, I’ve got enough on my plate.”
“I understand, but Cortox…”
“I know, I’m familiar with the White Event.”
“Well, there’s no need to try and be afraid or shy away from the truth.”
“I have my reasons.”
“Well, it’s a pity. Cortox loves us all.”
“It’d be a disgrace to him. I’d spend the whole sermon paying attention to you.”
Moira blushes and chuckles to herself, and the pair continue on to the church in pleasant quiet.

At the bazaar, Thom continues to look for blades and unusual weapons. There, he spies his tutor, Lactile Furlo, who appears to be poking around for things himself. Thom introduces himself.
“Hullo, Thom Drum! I take it our talk provided some insight to you. What do you seek here today? I’m here just looking for something nice.”
“I’m looking for something curious, sharp, and deadly.”
“Four eyes are better than two!”
The pair of men find mostly plain daggers, which don’t interest Thom. His hunt is for more exotic blades. Suddenly, Furlo stops Thom and pulls him towards a smaller booth operated by a small and shaggy looking gnome, much thinner than the common gnome. At the booth there’s a kettle.
“Don’t deal with the mad gnome! Look at my goods!” a nearby vendor calls out.
“This is a kettle of heating. He wants 3000 gold but we would never pay that. It’s far too much, don’t you agree Thom Drum?”
“No…no, this is a kettle of heating for 3000 gold no less!” the disheveled gnome calls out.
“Why is it worth so much?” Thom asks.
“I demand a smaller price!” Lactile interrupts, leaning in with a strange sort of charisma in his haggling.
“1000 gold!” the gnome cries out, intimidated by the old man.
“Now I think we may be speaking at a price more acceptable.” Furlo says to his pupil.
“I can’t do less than that!” the gnome informs.
“Do you have the coin on you boy?”
“No, but I do have this bracelet worth a 1000 gold.”
“What say you…?” Lactile begins, fishing for a name.
“Galbeth!” the gnome shouts.
“Galbeth, look at this fine example of craftsmanship. It’s a fine piece indeed, just look at the finery of the metalwork. And the gems! Come now, Galbeth, this is an exceptional piece and worthy of a trade.”
“Yes, yes, I will take it!” he says throwing the kettle at Lactile.
Lactile leans in and informs Thom that the kettle is no mere kettle of heating, but in reality it is a kettle of drumming. “Stretch a skin over the kettle and create the most impressively fearsome sound outdoors! This will make for a fine trophy. You come to the Inn tonight and show me what you’re made of. If your skills find favor, the kettle may be yours. A trophy!”

Vetnik heads to the Steelshaper home and finds Vortis not at home. Vetnik leaves a note for the cavalier and heads back to the manor. Once there, he finds Thom gathering drums together furiously. Vetnik comes in and asks if he needs help.
“Yes, have you seen my mother’s drums?” Thom asks rummaging through his things.
“Perhaps they’re at the warehouse. I’ll ask Master Lyks.”
“They’re the larger ones.”
“I recall, many of our bards in the North used similar drums in their acts, though they were probably much cruder than your mother’s.” Vetnik goes to see Zemilay in his office and returns to the parlor moments later with a set of keys in hand. “I’ll return soon!” Thom silently waves him off as he continues to prepare for the evening ahead.

Suddenly, the front door swings open. Seconds later, Lyssa stomps inside, the energy radiating off of her is palpable and something Thom can’t be bothered with. “Lyks!” she calls out from the foyer. Thom rolls his eyes and heads upstairs to his chambers while Xanti enters to greet the heated mage.
“No need to yell, dear.” Xanti calmly begins.
“Who are you?” Lyssa bites back.
“Dear, I am Zemilay’s wife, Xanti. You must be Lyssa, we have not been properly introduced.”
“Where is he?”
“I will take you to see him. Do know, we have not been able to see each other in many years, and in the interest of keeping a peaceful home, I will neglect to mention your acerbity as long as you come with me calmly.”
“Fine.”

Lyssa magically shuts the door behind her and Xanti takes a small breathe before calmly leading the young mage to her husband’s study. Inside, Zemilay sits with a stern look across his face.
“My love, Lyssa is here to see you.” Xanti says smiling.
“Can you give us a moment?” Lyssa asks Xanti.
“Of course,” Xanti softly replies. She kisses her husband gently on his bearded cheek and exits the study.
“What brings you here to my home, raising your voice in such—“
“Who is Ebevaria? Who have you signed me away to?!” Lyssa interrupts.
“She is a favor to you. Your powers need to be controlled and she is the best at the guild equipped to deal with you!”
“You’ve put me in the care of a mad woman! Do you see what she’s done to my face?” Lyssa says, pointing to her cheek.
Zemilay leans forward and glares. “What do you mean, child? There’s nothing on your face! Stop this boisterous nonsense! I have done you a favor and you continue to be ungrateful. Take your leave of my home and do not return until Ebevaria’s burned some sense into you.” Lyssa looks around and notices a mirror. In it, she still sees the glowing mark, which only serves to confuse and enrage her more.
“George! Grunnis!” Zemilay calls out from his seat. Moments later the study door opens again, with George Pimpleton entering and a large bear following behind.
“I don’t need to be escorted out by your lackeys.” Lyssa proclaims. As she storms out, her temperament causes all of the burning flames in the manor to be extinguished. Candles, fireplaces, lanterns, boilers and all. Zemilay remains seated and hears the front door swing open and slam shut. George and Grunnis stand in the entryway, silent and a bit stunned.

“She doesn’t know that we couldn’t be together because of her!” Zemilay mutters under his breath.
“None of them know, master.” George says, approaching and consoling Lyks. “Is there anything I can get for you.”
“A stiff drink.”
“I’ll get one for the both of us then.” George replies before he and the bear take their leave.

“Ah hell, what happened now?” Thom mutters to himself, drum in hand, as he watches Lyssa storm out of the manor, candles and lanterns extinguishing as she passes them.

Xanti enters to console her husband, who continues to sit and mull over Lyssa’s latest tantrum. “Dear, don’t let her get to you. We’re together now, it’s over.”
“It’s never over. She serves as a constant reminder.”
“My love, it’s not her who kept us apart. Only what inhabited her.”
“Every time I look at her I can’t help but be reminded of what happened, of why I spent twenty years hobbling around alone in this house, waiting for the day you’d be able to return to me!” Zemilay takes his wife’s hand and looks into her eyes. “Do you see anything for her? A glimmer of hope?”
“Her path is dark, there’s no question about it. But her anger has a base, it’s not—“
“I’m not her father, I shouldn’t have to deal with it.”
“Sadly, his burden is yours to bear. Modius was your friend, and she is his daughter. For better or worse, if you wish to do right by him—”
“For worse apparently. I pulled all the strings I could, they wouldn’t even take her if not for me!”
“I know, my love. Her life was not a good one though.”
“Nor was mine!”
Xanti sighs and continues to hold her husband’s hand in silence, comforting him.

“Thom, I can hear you out there.” Zemilay calls out, rubbing Xanti’s aged hands back.
“I don’t know what happened!” Thom says, nervously entering the study.
“Care for a drink, boy?”
George enters and slides the second drink to Thom on Zemilay’s command, and goes to the kitchen to get his own. Xanti excuses herself to join George but not before leaving Zemilay with another kiss to the cheek.
“Where is your brother?” Zemilay asks.
“Not sure. Sleeping?”
“I take it you saw Lyssa storm out of here? ”
“Yes, and take the candle flames with her.”
“Bah! Impetuous girl. She comes here accusing me of leaving her in incapable hands at the Mage’s Guild. They weren’t even going to take her in! They are accepting new students all of the time, and she was only one they were hesitant on. I had to pull many a favor for her!”
“Well that’s her loss then.” Thom says, sipping on brandywine.
“I don’t need children yelling at me for the favors I extend to them.”
“Then put her down, let her know who’s in charge. Or let it blow over like her other fits.”
“Sage advice, you’re sound like a father. You’ve adventured with her, what were your dealings like with her.”
“Hmph. I suppose it’s like… sometimes you have to let a bear be a bear. I just give her my distance and my respect.”
“But she respects no one!”
“I don’t seek her respect. I only seek her skills in dire times and ask her share of the load. Instead of pointing her at my friends, I point her at my enemies.”
Trisoll enters the study unannounced. “What’s going on?”
“Lyssa stopped by and decided she had it in her to throw another one of her fits and curse at me.”
“Wow… she’s got balls.”
“It’s a child’s temper. One that will have George spending the rest of the afternoon relighting all of my fires around the house.”
“Sounds like she’s just expressing herself. In her own heated way.”
“Well, she can express herself elsewhere. I refuse to deal with it until she can behave like a sane woman.”
“Ok dad, I’ll stop by the apartment and have a talk with her,” Trisoll obliges.
Thom takes another sip of his wine before speaking up again. “I have to say, there isn’t much that unnerves me, but demons… that’s a part of her life I don’t envy.”
“Can we not talk of demons.” Zemilay curtly asks. “I’ve had my fill of them for a lifetime.”
As Zemilay takes another drink, Trisoll leans over to Thom. “I’ll tell you about it later.” Trisoll looks behind Thom and sees a set of drums plus a variety of sticks. “What are you doing with all those?”
“Oh, I’m having a drum off tonight!” Thom reveals.
“Oooh, can I go to the drum off first? Before I head to Lyssa’s?” Trisoll begs of his father.
“Why wouldn’t I let you? You’re not being sent to task to see Lyssa. As a matter of fact, I’d love to come cheer you on as well, Thom. It’s been far too long since Xanti and I have been out for an evening, we could use a change of scenery for a bit.”

As Thom finishes packing up, Moira and Vetnik return separately. Vetnik returns with Silhouette’s drums while Moira returns from her afternoon at the church of Cortox.
“Is this what you were looking for?” Vetnik asks. Thom finishes up casting a ritual spell over himself, Cat’s Grace, and eagerly welcomes the cavalier in. “Yes!” he replies as he places his drumsticks in his quiver. He changes into his drumming uniform, an ornately embroidered silk robe and headband.

“This is so exciting. How did you get to be a part of this drum off?”
“I went shopping, ran into my mentor. Had some cash to buy him a magic item and he decided to put it up as a prize between me and his other prized pupil.”
“What’s the prize?”
“Kettle of drumming. It’s supposed to be pretty effective outdoors.”
“If I were to extend Cortox’s blessing to you, would that be cheating?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, the offer is on the table.”

Later at the Inn, the crowd cheers as Thom marches in in drumming garb and masses of drums. Thom goes first, battling first against a student of lesser ability. He drums an impressive beat. Thom steps up and plays the snare part to Greyhawk’s Anthem. His opponent struggles to keep up with Thom’s abilities. The student picks up his momentum and gives the performance of his career. Furlow asks the men to create their own coda, but Thom manages to smoke him. Thom shakes his hand and his opponent is gentlemanly in his loss. Meanwhile, Chan slays his opponent with ease and grace. It was no competition for him at all.

The matchup between Chan and Thom is tense. The first measure, Chan enchants the audience but the second measure isn’t executed as deftly. Thom gets the edge in the second and the third, he begins to juggle his sticks against the drum in a display of showmanship. It’s enough to ignite the patrons and fellow students. Even Zemilay and Xanti are cheering, holding each others arms, the happiest anyone in the party has seen Zemilay. Thom finishes with the end of the piece, closing tightly and cleanly. He rouses the other musicians to follow suit. Even Chan, whose is both humbled and impressed by Thom’s skill, begins to drum with Thom and the competition soon turns into a celebration. Moira runs over and gives Thom a kiss on the cheek. Vetnik picks Thom up and lifts him above the crowd while Lactile comes over and hands him the kettle. Thom takes Vetnik’s ale from him and chugs while lifting the kettle above his head in triumph!

WORK IN PROGRESS…

In the sepulcher, the groups wait and finish divvying up their goods. Many members of the group are badly wounded and mull over whether or not to continue the raid.

Grum and Alwyn go ahead to scout ahead to secure the area. Alwyn goes SE while Grum heads NE. Grum slinks in the shadows unnoticed and sees a giant chieftain with 4 guards in tow. Grum immediately runs back and lets the groups know of the oncoming groups. Alwyn notices and returns to the group and prepares himself as well.

“If you wish not to fight, I can try to conceal us” Xostin suggests “I don’t have the ability to cloak us all, but if we wish to remain still, I can make it appear as if we are a part of the land surrounding the tomb.”
“And what if the giant smells us?!” Galrim fires back.
“I’m in no condition to fight!” Galather interjects, exhausted and still on the mend.
“Then we hide, and fight if we have to” Vetnik finishes.

The parties stand together against the edge of the bowl and Xostin incants an ornate ritual that conceals the group against the rocks. Shortly after the spell, the chieftain and his men stomp down into the bowl towards the tomb. Dressed in pelts and armor and helmet. They grunt and claw at the dirt, searching. Flurmin hears their grunts “They know somebody’s been here, they’re going to investigate.” After a few moments inside the tomb, they hear they angered cries of the giant party. Flurmin whispers to Galrim, who strokes his beard in contemplation.

“My men recall a potion of giant control we found in tomb. Shall we try our hand?” Galrim
“How many does it work on?” Grum
Galrim shrugs unknowingly. “We can try two or focus our energies on one.”
“We can sick two on the other two flunkies and we rush in and kill the chieftain. If we use the potion on him and he resists, we’re done.” Thom
“Alwyn, have any prayers left in you?” Galather
Alwyn silently moves to Galather, shuts his eyes, and traces something in the air across Galather’s forehead. A sigil appears, glowing green and hovering in front of Galather’s face before disappearing. Alwyn has managed a to restore some of his comrade’s health with a silent prayer.

Together, they break Xostin’s illusion and head back towards the sepulcher. Flurmin imbibes the potion of Giant Control and spies them around the corner and cause the two giants to start beating the two others. The chieftain rushes in trying to break up the disorder. “Someone has defiled the Headsplitter Tomb! Goroth with crush their skulls and wear them as charms around my neck!” the chieftain grunts.

The party rushes in to ambush the chieftain, Goroth. Vetnik leads the charge slashing at the chieftain with his longsword. Vetnik misses, but the charge is enough to draw the chieftain’s attention. Flurmin takes up his new warhammer and swings, but misses. Goroth screams something at Flurmin, and in his rage, he misses the dwarf with his war hammer. Moira misses with Starstrike. Grum unleashes Lyn and Slå and sticks the chieftain with quick and effective precision, stabbing him deep in his arm. Thom begins to drum at the back of the party and Trisoll follows suit by reciting a blessing. Lyssa extends her hand and summons a radius of Darkness around the giants’ heads. Galather steels himself and knocks a couple arrows back at the same time, the second of the two hitting the chieftain. Alwyn knocks his arrows back in a similar fashion, and just like his brother the second arrow hits. Galrim rushes the chieftain with his glowing axe but misses. Xostin stabs at the chieftain in his Achilles’s heel and wounds him deeply.

Galather draws back a couple more arrows, the first of which hit. Moira is next to act and slashes through the chieftain’s guts and he falls. His guts steam as he lays dead on the ground. The party watches as the two attacked giants, incensed by the death of their leader, turn their attention towards the party. They finish off the charmed giants pair together. The first cuts at Vetnik with a jagged sword stained with his giant brother’s blood. The cocky cavalier is cut but is quick to respond only to miss his attack. Galrim swings his axe and cuts into another giant. Flurmin attacks his war hammer but misses. Grum whips out his shocking daggers again slashes at a giant, cutting him deep in the leg. Thom sends two of his arrows into the same giant. Moira follows suit but as she swings, a strap from her breastplate snaps off. Moira is quick to catch it and cover herself.

“I was hoping for some minge!” Thom jests under his breath while continuing to drum.

Xostin misses with his blade, as does Alwyn with his arrows. One of the giants comes for Galrim with a jagged sword, cutting into the dwarf’s leg with it. So deep is the cut, it shocks Galrim for a moment and the damage sends him reeling on the ground. Galather fires off two arrows at the attacking giant. Trisoll runs to Galrim and burns the last of his healing spell on the dwarf which calms him. Lyssa summons into the air a great beam of fire and launches it like flaming arrow, shooting through the giant and staggering it even more.

Moira quickly slashes at the burned giant twice and cuts through the giant’s burned chest. Vetnik turns his attention to the other giant and sticks him twice with his longsword. Galather fires off more arrows, only one of which hits. In response, he swings his jagged blade at Xostin. So severe is the blade and the illusionist suffers a deep and dull gash. Galrim howls out in pain for his leg and his fallen brother.

“NOOOOO!”

Defying the brink of death, Galrim tries to swing but he can’t seem to make it. Thom fires his arrows and hits. Lyssa attempts to disarm the giant by levitating the blade out of his hand, but isn’t able to. Instead, a wall of force comes up in front of the mage — which shocks her as she believed her magic to be controllable since the demon that plagued her had been exorcised! Trisoll drags the body out of harms way while Alwyn fires off a pair of arrows, enraged. Grum leaps in with his shocking daggers and delivers a pair of deadly slashes. The electricity fells the giant!

The wall of force shatters and disappears into nothingness. Lyssa steps forth and cautiously casts detect magic and finds Goloth’s belt to indeed be magic. The party readies their carts and rushes out of the barrows. They rush to the plains of the Cairn hills with no disruption. The party heads towards Elmshire as dawn approaches. Galrim fades in and out of consciousness, he mourns over the death of his companion.

“Though he was not Raven’s Claw, after the games he was going to be inducted. Maybe our new friends here from Greyhawk can help us.” Galrim laments.
“I know someone who might be able to help you.” Vetnik replies.
“You do?”
“We should preserve the body though.”
“Alwyn and your friend Trisoll have agreed to prepare the body.”

The party come upon a clearing and set up camp as the morning sun starts to show. The watches are uneventful, as the party sleeps and reads and rests. As Galather watches, they party wakes to see his bow knocked. They hear orcish voices in the distance.

“Let them come” Alwyn boasts.
The orcs hiss from the bush. “Sniff, sniff! We smell elf blood hahaha!”

Vetnik begins to charge after them, but Galather questions him. “You’re really going to go after them?”
Galather fires off two arrows, killing one and missing the other. He prepares to draw two more arrows back before Moira rushes in attempting the knock the bow out of his hand.

“We don’t do that.” Moira says.
Galather says nothing at first, but then turns to Moira and stares her down before firing 2 more arrows, killing 2 more orcs. “Correction, you don’t do that.”
“Then why’d you need me? Why’d you wake me?” Vetnik asks.
“I didn’t know how many there were. Why, needed your beauty sleep?” Galather jokes, sheathing his bow.

“Sorry, princess. Those are 4 less orcs who would’ve slit our throats as we slept. Did what had to be done.” Galather explains to Moira, who is visibly upset by the less than heroic way the pack of orcs were dealt with.

The party picks up camp and heads into Elmshire. Now, the village is thriving and more magnificent than the party’s parents had described. No longer a humble shire, Elmshire is walled with gates and operates as more of a small but bustling province for demihumans.

“State your business!” the halfling guards demand.
“We want to stay the night, freshen up, get a good meal.” Thom fabricates.
“Hello, I’m Galrim. We’re 2 separate bands, we fought together in the Cairn Hills. One of our own has fallen in battle with hill giants.”
The guard perks up at the sound of giants and lets them in. Galrim and Vetnik go together to find a priest to see about rites for Xostin.

“Have you been here before?” Galrim asks Vetnik who accompanies him to the nearest temple.
“No, but I could tell you about it. My father traveled here.” Vetnik explains.
“For a barbarian you’re—“
“Not stupid?”
Vetnik tells Galrim the story of the defense of Elmshire against the Drow. “Your parents must be great heroes here.”
“Oh, they are!”

The others tie off their horses and head to the Inn of the Rolling Meadow. Inside, the clientele is almost exclusively demihuman. Mostly haltings, with a peppering of gnomes. The barkeep, Ouidden Arlus, welcomes them in.
“What can I do for you today?” the barkeep asks.
“Some grub to start, and drinks” Thom replies.
“And baths!” Grum interjects.

Back at the Temple of Garl Glittergold, a high priestess named Diathenea Ansey takes audience with Galrim. For a donation, she proposes they attempt a resurrection spell. Vetnik goes into the priestess’ chambers and introduces himself.

“I came with Galrim. My name is Vetnik Talthraudii, Earl of Granud.”
“The name sounds familiar…”
“I am the son of Vetnik Talthraudii, Grand Duke of Granrud."
“A Northman and a Nobleman! It is indeed, my honor.”
“I wanted to discuss possibly waiving the fee for the dwarf. His brother at arms fell because I invited them brought along. I can take on a boon, or—“
“I can reduce the fee, certainly. As a cavalier, I’m sure you’re a man of your word.”
“I’m in Greyhawk, there aren’t too many Talthraudii’s in Greyhawk.”
“Please send Galrim back in, and thank you for your audience.”

“What did you two discuss?”
“Nonono, you took on a boon on our behalf?”
“You do what you can for those who help.”
“Truly, you’re a cavalier worthy of your status.”

While they wait, he hands Vetnik a leather patch bearing the Raven’s Claw. Vetnik bows before him and thanks him for the honor. Humbled, he welcomes Vetnik into the Raven’s Claw order.

Downstairs, after the Black brothers take their bathes, a halfling crier enters the inn. He calls out for the heroes who killed Goroth Kingslayer. Vetnik and all stand, even Lyssa hesitantly. The crier begins a song, championing their feat and rousing the bar into cheers. Vetnik turns his attention to Moira, who gleefully watches the performance. She turns for a moment and notices him staring intently.

“Vetnik!” Mo
“What, I’m smiling?”
“What, I didn’t know you—“
“Know I what?”
“Nevermind. Heh.”
“How about a drink, on me.”
“I can’t drink”
“Sure you can. I’m sure Cortox doesn’t mind his agents haven’t a pint or two.”
“She said she didn’t want a drink” Lys
Vetnik stops, rolls his eyes, and stomps away.
“I think you offended Vetnik.”
“He’ll be fine, a little bruised ego never killed a prince.”

Moira rushes after Vetnik. “Don’t go! Lyssa means well, she’s just looking out for me.”
“I respect you too much to take advantage of you.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself. Let’s have that drink”

Moira and Vetnik walk back in. Moira is clueless as to what kind of drink to order. She picks up a stein and looks curiously at it. Flurmin and Galrim are already lit while the rangers sip on ciders. Trisoll gets a little tipsy while the Black brothers casually sip their spirits. Trisoll downs a pint of dwarves ale and is properly lit.
“You’re alright!” a drunken Trisoll, wobbling over towards Lys.
“You’re drunk” lys remarks dryly.
“No kidding! Hahahaha! No seriously, ever since we got that demon out of you, you’ve been so chill.”
Lys fumes at the happy pack across from her, Vetnik and the dwarves from Raven’s Claw, who surround Moira and cheer her on and she sips on a housemade concotion. “Thanks for the compliment.”
“Take a look at those two. So weird, right? The ‘happy couple’.”

Moira raves over Quidden’s amazingly light but potent drink and after a pint soon finds herself in the throws of drunkeness. She stumbles away from Vetnik at the bar, over to Lyssa. “Oh, I feel hot! What’s wrong?!”
“You’re making a fool out of yourself. You’re stumbling around like a common drunk.”
Moira looks crushed and defeated. “I… I…”
“You’ve done way worse in inns, Lyssa. Let her have a little fun tonight.” Gr
Vetnik steps away from the dwarves and the barkeep and moves towards Moira, Lyssa, and Grum. “Moira, how about another?” He pauses and sees an almost embarrassed expression on her face.
“She’s fine, but thank you.” Lys
Vetnik steps to Lyssa and berates her about her low upbringing and questionable moral character, how she could have any right to pass judgement on anyone having done the things she’s done (low blow!) Lyssa glares at him, gritting her teeth and bearing his harsh remarks. “Enough of this. I didn’t realize I was still in the company of children. I’m out of here!”
Vetnik leaves the inn, and Elmshire, for Greyhawk in a night’s ride.
“Wow” Th

Grum carts Moira off to her room, where she passes out lamenting her missed opportunity with Vetnik. Downstairs, the crier notices Thom’s drums.
“Are you a bard?”
“Yes, I took up the path of the blade and have been in training since.”
“Care to play with me?”
The pair play a discordant impromptu jam that still seems to arrest the crowd.

On the trail home on the second hour, Vetnik sees red cloaked figures walking down the road. Vetnik rides off the road and sees them not acknowledge him. They are shoeless and ignore the cavalier.

In the morning, everyone except Galrim waits downstairs. Xostin returns with Galrim. “Where is Vetnik? I owe him gratitude!”
“He’s… gone.” Th
“Did he scout ahead?” Xo
“Probably not.” Th
“I know he took on a boon to reduce Raven Claw’s debt.” Xo
“I have no other emblems but I would like to make you all honorary members of Raven’s Claw and in time, if you wish to consider full pledging.”
“I would love to you” Gr
“It’s nice to be a part of something bigger than yourself.” Tri
“I… I don’t, the principles, can we discuss those more in depth first?” Mo
“Of course, in time. I will tell you your friend accepted.” Ga
“Oh, he did?” Mo

Galrim sends Galather with the brand to go to the tanner to make new patches. 20 minutes later, he returns.

Together they head out. On the robe, they see 5 red robed figures.
“I can’t see faces, but they seem to be humanoids on foot. In red robes.” Al
“We probably shouldn’t attack them unless they appear threatening.” Gr
“Shall we just pass them?” Gala
“I’ll talk to them!” Tri
Thom makes wages for wizards vs. cultists. Flurmin and Grum get in on the bet.

“Hey, what’s going on guys?”
They ignore him and keep walking.
“It’s rude to not acknowledge a greeting!”
One looks up, a human with a dazed wide eyed look on his face.
“So, are you guys like wizards or cultists or what?!”
“I think it’s cultists for the win!”
“I’ll secede but that doesn’t mean they can’t be wizards too.”

Later on, on a stump, they see a row of mushrooms on a stump. Lyssa goes in for a closer look and identifies them as edible mushrooms. As they’re hanging out, a 13 yr old girl walks out and is startled.
“Those are my mushrooms, sirs!”
“We figured they were someone’s.” Gr
“They’re mushrooms for my father’s business. He’s a spicer, Yllmoth’s Spices.”
She nervously gathers them up into her basket and runs away.

Vetnik gets to the manor and finds a reunited Lyks and Xanti in the manor. She answers the door.
“Oh, hello? Oh…oh, Vetnik!”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, dear.”
“Come in, George is in the kitchen and Zemilay is waiting in the parlor.”

“Why are you here with only yourself in tow?”
“I lost my cool, which I think you can understand.”
“Ha! Yes, I can.” Goerge brings Vetnik a warm bowl of stew. Vetnik regales Zem with their giant slaying tales. He shows Zem the patch of Raven’s Claw.
“You must have done something right to have that honor bestowed on you in such a short time.”
Zem explains to Vet why Xanti is back.
“I don’t know if I’m having a change of heart, but I no longer find this honorable.”
“In what way?”
“I came to fight for honor and glory and not be babysitting people in their cat fights.”
“Seems you did both.”
“I just need time to think” Vetnik retires to his room.

Several hours later, the rest of the heroes enter the city. Raven’s Claw decides to stay a few more nights but asks them to come to the games with them.
“The games is a huge match, with 1000s of warriors all fighting for a grand prize. We’ll be here for a few more days, and once we’re ready to set off we will touch base once more. And not just warriors, dear lass, spell casters such as yourself.”
“We’ll be sure to holler. In the meantime, be sure to check out The Dripping Blade!” Th

“The belt, do you mind if I take it. I can perhaps miniaturize it, or at least discover what it was used for.” Lys

The party heads to the Manor.
“Vetnik is up in his room.” George
Lyks hobbles out on his staff, with his wife Xanti at his side.

“Dad, we met these really cool guys, Raven’s Claw! There’s like 2 really cool dwarves, one has an axe, and 2 half elfs, one is kind of dick but whatever, and a gnome wizard warrior who died but Vetnik negotiated in Elmshire to get him resurrected. I dunno why he’s being such a buzzkill, where is he any way, moping in his room?”
“Vetnik has expressed some dissatisfaction at his treatment within the group, those who don’t wish to respect his boundaries and feelings.” Ze
“I’ll go talk to him.” Mo to Ze
George dispenses food and drink. As he heads up to Vetnik, Moira intercepts. “I’ll take it up to him, George.”

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Moira kneeled over Trisoll, rubbing his hand as she waited for him to come back to full consciousness. The spider’s bite had left him reeling, but between summoning some much needed blessings from his deity and Moira’s own holy touch, Trisoll’s recovery looked to be a speedy one. The bite wounds that once weeped with steaming venom had all closed shut, leaving only traces of dried blood and a tattered tunic in its wake. Moira herself was doing her best to keep her composure though. While her healing hands had certainly helped purge the poison and seal the wounds shut, the confrontation with the spiders had suffered another casualty. In the heat of battle, Lyssa’s wild flames had affected both friend and foe alike. Gone were her flaxen tresses, now replaced by a crowd of jagged, burned ends. The smell still clung to Moira as a horrible reminder, but vanity had no place on the battlefield. She steeled herself and quietly watched over the mending cleric while the others gathered up their things and rummaged the corpses of the spiders.

As Moira sat engaged with Trisoll, she could feel the air around her head begin to buzz with faint energy. Almost a ticklish feeling. Unremarkable at first, but slowly the warmth of the energy began to increase. Trisoll’s weary head turned to Moira and smiled. Moira herself was all the more confused, especially as scarlet threads of light began to cascade down the side of her face and form into pieces of champagne colored hair. Moira quickly turned around to see a strange sight looming over her. She saw Lyssa, her hand and eyes aglow, orchestrating threads of red energy that followed Moira’s head and seemed to mend the burned ends. The strange sight was Lyssa’s expression. Moira and the others had only know Lyssa’s signature gaze to be an extension (or warning) of a fit of rage. This time though, behind those glaring red eyes, her expression was placid and concentrated.

”Thank you,” Moira said as she stood, handling her newly mended hair between her fingers.
Lyssa nodded in acknowledgement and began to retract the magical mending threads of chaos magic back into her hand. ”Of course. I had no idea my power would surge with such an intensity back there, I hope this makes things a little better.”
”I know you didn’t. Cortox’s blessings to you.”
The last of the magic withdrawn, her eyes snapped back to their normal brown hue. ”Shall we?”
Moira smiled and nodded. Trisoll stayed laid on the ground, the exchange between the two women — though mildly awkward — a sign of hopefully better times to come. It was something that warmed his gentle heart a great deal.

They cross dusty, barren plains covered in shrubs. Trisoll takes a look out and sees horses and a wagon. He can’t make out any more than that.

“We ought to head them up.” Gr
Moira and Vetnik take the front, just in case the caravan proves to be hostile. They see that it’s a wagon and a single horse. It’s tipped over, a crash and a puff of dust with a bunch of men trying to push it up from a mini ravine. They appear to be fighting men. A couple are very short in stature. They appear to be dwarves and gnomes with 2 humans in company.

“1…2…3…” they call as they try to hoist the wagon up.

“Can I help you?” Vet
“HO! Who goes there? What knight are you? I don’t believe I’ve seen that armor before. “
“I’m not from around here.”
“Well, I’m Galrim.”
“Vetnik, Earl of Granrud.”
“Well, Earl of Granrud, come give us a hand.”

They all, except Galrim, do their best to push their weight, and slowly the wagon is lifted back onto the road. They all give thanks.
“Thank you very much, Xosten Wilcryn the gnome.”
“Vetnik.”
“Thank you very much.” His tone is measured and not as frenetic as Burbis. He carries a spell book as well as a sword sheathed at his side. The others introduce themselves.

Half-elf: Alwyn Ayen, a ranger with a holy symbol of the forest god (XXXX)
Half-elf: Galather Eldrin, a ranger
Dwarf: Flurmin Bromdrak
Driver: Jep

“We’re on our way to the games right now.” Gal
“Where are they?” Vet

“I’m heading from greyhawk” Ve
“What are you doing out in the Cairn hills.”
“Dealing with Hill Giants.”
“Tell me more” he says with a snarl
“We’re following up on a rumor of treasure to be found in the hills.”
“What do you think boys, ya wanna throw in with these lot?” Gala

“I’m in, we’re in! Let’s go!” Flur
“Before jumping in, there is a curse supposedly.” Ve
“What dya think about that, boys?”
“As long as you’re not a suspicious man—“
“Gelwyn Thordoor is no suspicious man! The word of a Raven’s Claw is law. We’re good men.”
“I noticed.”
Vetnik sees a Raven’s claw brooch on Flurmin, Galather, and Galrim

“What say you, Lyssa?” V
“I suppose it can’t hurt to have extra help against Hill Giants.” Ly
“Of course. Just wanted to make sure you’re ok with bringing strangers.” V
“As long as they don’t get in my way.” Ly
“What about you, Thom?” V
“As long as we figure out our shares.” Th
“We can figure that out later.” V
“No, we should figure that out now. Keeps everything out on the table.” Tr

Thom approaches Flurmin, who’s calculating the cut. “You’re the smart man?” Flur
“No, just the only one who bothers to keep records.” Th
“You don’t keep track of treasure, and that’s when stabbing begins!” Flur “We propose we follow you. My group aren’t fans of the Hill Giants. Nay, they’re mortal enemies. 50/50 split?”
“How about 70/30” Gr
“I was thinking something a little more…” Flur
“What you finds you keep?” Ly
“11 part share on all coins, round robin on all items. Our find, we get first pick.” Th
“Let me takes these terms to my men.” Flur

“Let me tell ya about my men. Flurmin & Gala, we’re all Raven’s Claws. Like brothers.” Gal
“Who are they” Ve
“Small association of men, most demi human. I know it’s strange to hear a Dwarf claim a half elf as brother—“
“I don’t actually” Ve
“Alwyn is a cleric ranger, and Xostin the gnome is a fighter illusionist.”

Jep gets the reigns at the cart. The crew jeer “Take it easy this time!” and they follow the party on the way to the Cairn Hills. They come upon 18ft tall statues. One of a hill giant with a necklace of tusks holding a club. The other a hill giant, bearded, holding two maces low and high. Thom burns Strength on he and his brother. The cleric blesses the party while the Gnome begins to intone some unknown spell. Thom also puts invisibility on Grum. Just ahead they see a crypt entrance over the hill at the north, and a southern most crypt low in the valley. Further on are a series of barrows, huge burial mounds for the giants. Grum heads south to the crypt. It is unguarded. Inside, he sees a crudely made tomb. Mud hammered into place with clubs. Down in there, Grum sees that someone has been inside. A tomb has been opened and tossed and plundered.

“How long ago was it plundered?” Gel
“Not within the past day.” Gr
“Continue to scout out.” Th

Grum scouts ahead and sees a group of 4 hill giants moving up the hill. Grum darts aside. Grum sneaks up with his longsword and slashes, returning to visibility. The giant cries out and howls, the wound gushing! Galrim, when he hears the giants, throws out a Hill Giant insult which incenses them.

Lyssa sends forth Magic Meteors. All make their targets except one, which whizzes past the group of oncoming giants and explodes around Grum’s attacker. Flurmin steps up with an axe but misses. A hill giant swings at Thom with a tree, knocking him off of his horse. A second giant swings down at Lyssa with a giant hammer but she is nimble enough to evade. Moira jumps in to defend the mage at the attacker but misses her attack. Vetnik rides up with his spear and longsword between two of the undamaged giants and sticks them both. Thom casts Burning Hands over 3 of the giants. One of the giants’ loincloths are set ablaze. Another giant attacks Trisoll, slamming a large boulder into him. Grum quickly switches to his bow from his blade and fires two arrows at his giant but both miss. A 4th giant takes Moira to task with a tree but misses her. Galather the Ranger sends out two arrows but misses. He misses so bad he smacks himself in the face with his firing arm. Xostin casts a quick spell and he and all of his gear become Wraithform. Golrim blasts on of the giants with a war hammer embellished with copper gilding. Trisoll, bleeding from the face, looks up at the grey skies above and enters what appears to be a trance. His eyes roll back and suddenly the skies begin the crackle with thunder and lightning. Suddenly, a bolt crashes into the leader giant.

Thom throws Lyn to Grum and allows him to wield both Lyn and Sla. When both are held, the blades glow electric blue! Grum slashes twice and hits. As both hit, a lightning bolt erupts out of the blades and enters the body of the giant. The bolt sends such a shock through its body, its heart bursts and falls to the ground.

“Holy shit!” Gr

Galdriel the dwarf swings with his battle axe, glowing with an indigo glow, and slays the leader of the hill giants. Cutting it from shoulder to belly. Vetnik slashes at a giant with his longsword, cutting into his torso with great severity. Moira sees Vetnik take a chunk out of it and goes in to press her attack. Her first hit misses but the second she hits with Starstrike. Alwyn comes over and heals Trisoll who remains in a trance. Galather fires two arrows into a giant while Trisoll also cures himself with heal light wounds. Lyssa manipulates the giant with the flaming loincloth to turn into flames choking smoke that climb his body and choke the giant. Flurmin tries to swing but falls. The staggered giant attacks Grum but misses in his stumbling stance. Thom fires an arrow towards the face of the staggered giant and screams out in pain as its blinded. Xostin, in wraithform, casts a spell and summons a Storm Giant carrying a huge boulder. The choking giant runs as fast as he can away from it.

Vetnik gallops behind the remaining giant, misses with his spear but jams his sword into it and fells it. The running giant realizes the smoke is tied to its loincloth and tears the burning fabric off. Grum aims his arrows to the giant and lands one of them. Lyssa focuses her powers once more and rains down 5 magic meteors on the giant. Alywin adjusts himself and fires off two arrows expertly. One arrow lands in the left leg, breaking his knee. The shock is enough to fell the giant, dying from blood loss.

“Keep it down!” Galrim orders his cheering men. “There’ll be more time to celebrate later. Let’s strip the bodies.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Lys

They find 120 cp, 100 sp. Lyssa offers up the idea of possibly making some enchanted items from any hill giant armor they’re able to recover and return to Greyhawk.

Flurmin “I was hoping for a better return, but there crypts and barrows yet to be explored.”

They gather themselves together and head towards the southern crypt. Grum goes ahead and scouts alone, slipping in the shadows becoming untraceable. The crypt is unguarded and laden with treasure. Grum sees a single bottle peaking out from a pile of coin. He grabs it and makes his way out. Thom reveals that the bottle is a potion of healing. Grum salivates at the thought of going back in for more treasure.

Inside, 5000gp, 300ep, 300pp, 12gems. Lyssa casts detect magic over the space but the party’s presence only serves to dilute its potency.

454gp
27 ep
27 pp

Flurmin “I like the way you operate. It’s honest and builds trust.”

The party turns their attention to the Barrows in the center of the field. There, they come upon 4 more hill giants. One of them heaves a boulder at Grum but Grum evades, just barely. A second boulder flies and heads towards Alwyn and crashes into him. He’s thrown to the ground, bow thrown out of hand. Grum responds with Lyn and Sla but sees they are not longer glowing blue. He misses with Lyn but delivers a shocking stab with Sla. Trisoll blesses the party again. Galather shoots a pair of arrows, one misses the other just barely makes it. Moira rushes and slashes with Starstrike. Lyssa summons a radius of Darkness on the giants, enveloping their heads. “Use your arrows wisely!” she calls out. Vetnik sees this and rushes up, stabbing at the wounded giant and cuts into its leg. Thom fires off an arrow with great precision and shoots into his left leg, and brings it dying to the ground. Galrim leaps forward with his blue glowing battle axe, grazing a giant’s thigh the first time and slashing into his belly with a second swing. Flurmin swings with his hammer, smashing his right hand and dropping the giant’s weapon. Xostin unsheathes his sword and cuts into a giant.

Moira sees the example lead by the Raven’s Claw folk to attack a single giant at a time and aims to attack the injured giant, but misses. Vetnik manages to bring the injured giant down with a cut of his longsword. Grum leaps in to backstab a blinded giant with his shocking daggers and delivers a mighty blow. Lyssa attempts to throw a dagger at the shocked giant but it misses it. Xostin slashes at the shocked giant with his long sword. Alwyn fires 2 arrows but misses. Galather fires an arrow into his left leg and knocks the giant down. Galrim looks at the fallen giant and dismisses it. He swings twice, misses first but the second cuts into the giant’s leg. Trisoll hits with his shellalegh and puts the fallen giant out of his misery. Flurmin hits with his first arrow. Galrim is targeted by the last standing giant and is hit, but not enough to knock him down.

The last giant strikes out at Thom and hits with a tree trunk. He is in grave condition but still standing. Lyssa conjures a wave of burning hands while Vetnik stabs at the giant with his spear. Grum jams his shocking dagger into the giant and fells it.

“Those daggers are quite the find, my friend!” Alwyn to Grum “They carry the power of the storm.”
“I know!” Gr

Lyssa requests Moira’s assistance in carving up the body of one of the giants and she raids its organs for later use in potions and spells.

Alwyn burns cure light wounds on Galrim. Trisoll rushes to Thom and Moira follows, both of which heal him considerably.

“I told you to be sparing with the brooch, not too sparing” Lys to Th

“We should rest for a moment.” Ve
“Where are we going to rest?” Gal
“What about the abandoned crypt.” Gr
“What about the bodies?” Gal
“Ah, but there aren’t any bodies!” Xostin casts vacancy over the bodies and conceals them. “If you will allow me 30 minutes I can cast another spell to conceal our presence. The will appear unplundered.”
“I don’t see why not, if it keeps us out of harm’s way.” Lys

Xostin casts successfully. “If we’re to rest, now is the time.” Meditation and healing spells take place as they rest in the concealed crypt. While waiting in the crypt, Lyssa has a flash of a memory: Modius meeting a being called Quantus Lightbender, he sees this person and says “the pieces are coming together.”

The party rests for another round of healing. Lyssa watches as it gets darker outside but hears nor sees anything out of the ordinary.

They head towards the ridge. They see another giant statue, 4 feet taller, a giant with a fur pelt and necklace of skulls of various races. In one hand a tree, another is the corpse of a man. Invisiblity is cast over Grum and he tip toes down into the crypt. This one is larger and more ornate. In the middle is a mausoleum and mounds of treasure guarded by 4 armored hill giants.

“Big giants, but do we wanna talk about risk v. reward. There is reward!” Gr
“Illusionist, what can you do?” Ve
“I can try and conjure the image of a hill giant chieftain.” Xo
“We send Grum for a backstab, then Xaustin goes in with an illusion.” Th
“Vetnik was it? You’re a wise tactician.” Ga
“How much time to get into position?” Xo

Xostin finishes his casting and the party can hear the illusionary hill giant march in. The 4 giants are startled, as the illusion is modeled after one of their own standing in the room, a duplicate as it were. Grum slashes but his backstab but misses. The party empty into the tomb and a giant attacks at Galather, but misses him. Moira jumps in and slashes at the lead giant with Starstrike. A second giant lunges at Thom and smashes him with a war hammer. Vetnik slashes with his spear and sword, both of which hit. Galather fires two arrows, first hits second misses. Flurmin hits with his hammer while Trisoll casts a blessing. Alwyn fires two arrows both of which miss. A third giant comes for Trisoll and smashes him with a hammer. Thom swings but misses. The forth giant smashes into Galather. Galrim sees his man take a blow and cuts into the giant twice. Xostin slashes but misses. Grum breaks invisibility and jams his shocking dagger into the giant and shocks it to near death. Lyssa calls out to her comrades to stand back as she sends a fireball down the crypt. The leader of the pack is burned to death while the other three endure severe burns.

A giant slams his hammer down upon Galather and puts him down but not out. Thom summons a color spray and stuns one of the giants. Xostin slashes and misses. Lyssa aims her burning hands at two of the giants, the dazed giant and a 2nd. Grum retreats into the shadows with ease. Galather tries to fire a pair of arrows but is too weak to aim. Flurmin hits with his hammer. Vetnik slams his spear into one giant and hits. He jams his sword into a second. Moira slays the first giant she hits with her sword and takes a good chunk out of the second. Trisoll whips his shillelagh around but misses. Alwyn fires two arrows but misses. The last standing giant retaliates against Moira and bashes her with his hammer. Galrim slices with his axe and draws blood.

Xostin swings his sword but misses. Alwyn fires two arrows but misses again. Galather takes his revenge and drives his arrow through the chest of a giant, goring it. The giant sees Galather’s attack and swings but misses much to ranger’s relief. Moira slashes with Starstrike and cuts. Flurmin hammers and smashes the giant. Galrim cuts into the giant and forces and is finished off by Lyssa’s magic missiles.

The haul is grand. Thom deduces some of the items.
Philter of Persuasiveness – Leg
Potion of Flying – Rav
Elixir of Youth – Leg
Potion of Healing – Leg
Potion of Giant Control – Rav
Potion of Giant Strength – Rav
Potion of Climbing – Rav
Potion of Gaseuos Form – Rav
Dagger +4 – Leg
Spear +1 – Leg
8 Arrows +2 – Rav
Warhammer +1 – Rav
Leather Armor, human sized +1 – Leg
Gem of Seeing – Leg

WORK IN PROGRESS…

Moira and Vetnik waited silently in the temple of Cortox. She waited and watched, masking her concern with brave posturing for both Vetnik and their mutual adventurer, Lyssa. While this temple had made her feel safe all of her life, she couldn’t help but watch over the mage and feel helpless as Lyssa’s condition appeared to decline. Lyssa had arrived in Moira’s arms a limp, unconscious body, something else seemed to stir in her. Vetnik and Moira watched as her eyeballs rolled about wildly behind her thin, dewy lids that seemed fixed shut (no matter how violently her eyes rolled behind them.) Her body laid rigidly suspended in its pose, except for her fingers, which seemed to twitch and extend as if trying to reach out to someone.

“I don’t know what happened, I promised I’d help her,” Moira whispered to herself.

The attendant returned to the party waiting in the apse. Nervously, his eyes met Moira’s and waved her and the others to follow him. As Moira leaned down to pick up the catatonic mage, Vetnik stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder again. Moira stepped aside and obliged Vetnik’s chivalry. Taking Lyssa up into his arms, he followed Moira and the monk down the ambulatory into a vestry hidden behind the great altar. The party rushed deeper through the dimly lit halls, the lit lanterns cascading a series of candlelight-star patterns over their bodies. At the end of the hall was a large wooden door covered in another constellation of seven-pointed bronze stars. This was no mere constellation though, but one of the most potent sigils of Cortox himself — so Moira recognized. The monk banged on the door and just as quickly as the monk stepped back, it opened. Standing there to greet the party was an older man, bald and grey of beard. Moira’s steely pose crumbled at the sight of the man, dressed in the finest of Cortoxian vestments — luxe white and pale blue robes embroidered with metallic constellation sigils — she had turned to in many times of moral conflict.

”Your Divine Truth!”

The priest waved the attending monk away and he quickly obeyed, leaving the room to the four of them. ”My child,” he said in a soothing tone, taking Moira’s hands into his, ”I heard you needed our help. What troubles you?” This was indeed the reigning Architect Prime, Gemmen, longtime high priest of Greyhawk’s First Church of Cortox. He had long served as treasured friend and counsel to the Steelshaper family ever since his initiate days after leaving the Celestian faith.

Moira struggled as emotions began to bubble to the surface. _”My companion… I sense there’s an evil in her. Something is wrong and you were the only person I knew could help.”

Gemmen pulled away from Moira and waved them over to a nearby table. The slab of polished marble was inlayed with a moonstone surface. Draped over the opalescent panel were a series of shimmering white silks. Vetnik gently set Lyssa in the center of the table and stood back with Moira. The pair watched as Gemmen moved in closer to examine the case. He silently circled around the table and surveyed the effects of the trance on her physical body: her pulse, it seemed, had slowed considerably, while her body responded to no physical stimuli. He fingers continued to wretch and claw at the silks beneath. He moved in to examine the eyes when, as he peeled her lids open, a horrid manifestation waited for him. Shock twisted the high priest’s face as he watched the whites of her eyes flicker from milk to pitch colored, with the thin red veins webbed throughout surging with violent burst of red electricity. He closed her eyes and placed his hand upon her chest. Closing his eyes and whispering a sacred verse to himself, he held his holy symbol in his hand and sunk into a trance of his own. After a few moments of this quiet, peaceful meditation, Gemmen was startled back to reality. Quickly, he began to lift the thin white fabric off the table to cover and bind Lyssa.

”What…” Moira began to ask but stopped herself and waited for Gemmen to finish wrapping Lyssa’s body.
”You were correct, Moira,” Gemmen replied as he hastily finished draping the consecrated silk over Lyssa’s body. _”There is a presence in this one. Something inside that is not her.” Gemmen returned to Moira and took her hands once more, gripping them more firmly than before. _”I can extract whatever possesses her, but it will need to be contained. I cannot do that on my own. Gather whomever you can, we must take her to the Mage’s Guild at once!”
”I will go!” Vetnik interjected. Moira turned to her companion with a smile, her eyes keeping tears of worry and gratefulness at bay.

Vetnik nodded and gave Moira one last reassuring rub on her shoulder. He bowed to Gemmen before quickly taking his leave. Gemmen stepped away from Moira only for a moment and rung for his attendants, who arrived quickly and anxiously. ”Yes, Your Divine Truth?” the two boys asked in unison.
”Ready a cart for the girls and I, and bring a stretcher. Do so with a quickness!”
The pair of attendants bowed together and were off at his order, leaving Gemmen and Moira to watch over the motionless Lyssa.

Back at Pimpleton Manor, Zemilay Lyks stayed closed off from the others in his study. Seated just as he was when Moira and Lyssa left, he maintained his glare on the strange orb displayed before him.
The muted sounds of tiny knuckles gently rapping at the door pierced the weighted silence of the study. ”Yes?” Zemilay barked, keeping his eyes forward on the orb.

The door slowly creaked opened and a soft and fay voice called out. ”Gnomefriend Lyks, what’s wrong?” Finally, someone was able to snap Zemilay out of his own trance. ”Burbis,” he began as the small, bearded gnome approached.
”What troubles you, Gnomefriend?”
Zemilay took a pause and returned his eyes back to the orb. ”The thing that has kept me in solitude for all of these years, I believe, has found another way back into my life.”
”What do you mean?”
”The spell caster from Furyondy. She came into my home and I fear she brought something else here with her.”
”You don’t mean…”
Zemilay once more was silently fixated on the orb, leaving Burbis to tremble at what could have possibly been unleashed upon his beloved master’s house.

Vetnik bursts thru the front door of the manor. He informs the Druid and the twins of her possession.
“What trisoll got lucky?” Th
“Something demonic has taken hold of the girl.”

“I knew it.” Ze

“I knew that this would come back to haunt me. Where is she?” Ze
“Church of Cortox, Moira’s church!” Ve “We need to follow them to the Mage’s Guild.”
“We need to go quickly.” He beckons to Gibbs, the bear, to serve as his transport.

“Do you come or stay” Ze “I’ll leave Redscar here with you.”
“Oh good, we’ll stay and play while you’re away.” bb
“Send the birds for me if you need help, either one!” Ze

In Lyssa’s mind, memories of Modius’ mortal life. The time he spent adventuring up until his ascension. The vision ends with him witnessing the conjoining of Cortox and the chance to become his avatar. One last memory is imparted: shortly before the champions were summoned, she sees Modius binding a demon. One that curses his name and vows revenge!

On horse and bear back, they cart Lyssa to the door of the mage’s guild. Zem takes the wizard to task.
“Glarius, where is he?”
“I… I….”
“Go fetch him now!”

Glarius isn’t arrogant, but very confident. He invites him into his glorious mage chambers. Brimming with magical items.

“I hate to intrude upon you.”
“I appreciate apology”
“She is possessed by a demon.”
“Is this the one you assigned to me? A demon child? lol”
“That’s why you were specifically requested.”

“What are these two doing here?” Gla at Mo/Gem.
“Me sir, I promise to protect her. I will take on any boon!”
“And the rest of you, do you wish to incur a sort of boon to defend her?”
“I will”

Trisll watches Lyks step forward, and steps forward as well. So too does Vet.

“She is related to Modius” Lyks
“The mage’s guild will not provide service to two heretics.”
“After all I have done for this city, but this is not the city. Do not come to me and tell me that you are owed anything. The champions of the stars did nothing for the guild. With the exception of yourself and the Lord and lady Black. We are both men of reason.”
“I would be most gracious for your assistance. I will take on whatever debt need be paid.”

Gladius moves over to Lyssa and sees the scroll in her belt.
“There was a wizard who helped us on the road.”
Gladius reads it and smiles. “Uthar, eh? A wise man with a valuable gift. This will actually assist in the procedure we insist to cast here.”
Gladius casts over a mirror above them, beyond it the party is shown a beautiful woman intensely casting a spell over a table, crafting a magic item. In the background, a vicious lion with fiery fur.

“Edaveria, dear. Come attend to your prospective student. Friends of Lyssa only, you are to attend and only you.”
“Was anyone friend’s with Lyssa? Was she friends with us?” Th

They take Lyssa to the magic lab. Glarius and Gemmen work together to inspect her body. The twins stand back and watch, while Moira, Trisoll, and Vetnik watch while Gemmen paints symbols of Cortox on her body. As he prepares the body, the lab door bursts open and the woman from the vision saunters in followed by her lion. She looks down. “Hello, little butterfly? What’s wrong with you?”
“We’re here to perform an exorcism. I assume you’re here to do the binding.”
“Ugh, of course I’m here to do the binding.”

Gemmen finishes painting the symbols on him and intones a spell of Exorcism. He cants Forbiddance on the area. Zem comes behind him and places a reassuring hand on the priest’s shoulder.

While the exorcism begins, visions of grizzly Hell flash thru Lyssa. The visions are most terrifying, the crimes of the pit unfold. Suddnely, Lyssa’s body rises and jerks off the table. A demon presence emerges from her chest, from red mist to life. It immediately tries to plane shift away but is locked and trapped in the forbiddance. It does whatever it can to intimidate the party but fails to instill fear.

Edaveria incants a spell, “Back to the abyss, demon.” The demon is whipped from the plain, the portal explodes and the smell of metallic lightning struck earth fills the air.

Moira wakes Lyssa and feels a sense of peace. Moira hugs her dearly, Lyssa doesn’t fight back. Cowering, Lyks kneels to Lyssa and explains what happened. “Given all that you’ve been thru, this is going to be a hard story to follow. All of you. There was a time we had to go to Hell to fight a demon, Bolothamogg, after he took an orb that belonged to a friend, Modius. I always feared. Do you know Modius?”
“He is my father.”
“Whoaaa….” tr
“Who is Modius?” Th
“Well, back in the day, we didn’t know much about Modius.”
“Did you know this whole time?” Th
“No, but I suspected some connection.”
“So the demon had a vendetta and when he couldn’t find Modius he took Lyssa instead?”
“This demon also kept me from my wife.”

“I’ll have you know, dear.” Eb
“Who are you?” Ze
“I am Ebeviria Yzmari. So this is the child I am to tutor?”
“Yes” Gla
“Will you handle her temper?” Ze

“I had months to plan this while you were gone.”

“Let us discuss this boon. Those of you who accepted, step forward. I am going to keep you in strict confidence, as you know. Since the white event, magic has been broken. Some areas where spells go wild, surges or even worse, not at all. These dead magic areas, you see why these are of concern. Especially when one has been concentrated into an orb. I need this anti-magic orb, I cannot send my men because I’m powerless to stop it.”
“Sounds scary” Gr “I don’t have any magic, so I don’t have much to worry about.”
“I accept on their behalf.”
“Very well then, good day to you.”

“I apologize that I had never known your existence. Modius was my friend for a long time and it pained me to see him leave. It’s why I keep his things as they were. I would love to take you to his apartment.”

Thom’s tutor – Lacte Furlow

“This apartment, all of it within is yours now.”
“Someone spoke to me. In the void.”
“What?” Zem reaches out to embrace Lyssa but she recoiled.
“The voice said the orb was the eye of Modius, and that it was my legacy.”
“The orb and everything in the apartment are now yours.”

Grum goes to see his mentor at the thieve’s guild.
“I’m here to see someone?”
“Who?!”
“Thurmin Detreeve”
The barred door swings open after a few moments waiting. He lets him in, pointing him down the hall.
“You’re all right!” Gr
Grum enters and sees a short, stocky man drinking beer. “You want a beer?”
“Thanks for your hospitality.”
“What brings you here?”
“I was sent here by Master Lyks.”
“Lyks told us you were coming a long time ago.”
“Oh, that’s news to me.”
“The reason the guild master asked me to tutor you, he said you wanted to be able to scrap instead of just pilfering.
“Fine.”
“Good, let’s go visit the bazaar and make someone’s pockets a little lighter.”
“Great, I have no problem with that.”

The two men finish their beer and walk past the Church of Cortox and into the bazaar. Grum is going for a townsperson instead of a flashy tourist. Grum walks up, chatters up a guy for a moment and cuts off his pouch. He steals it finding 96 gp.
“Any critique?”
“None whatsoever. You made a good mark, and it paid off. Keep being smart like that. As far as swordplay, we can go back and duel. We’ll run through some drills and talk about compensation later. One hand takes the other, right? It’s nice to finally have a student with skill!”
“I appreciate it.”
“If you don’t have one yet, visit the quartermaster at the guild and we’ll set you up with a new lock pick set.”

Thom goes to the inn of the weeping willow, near the mansion. Inside, sitting in an alcove sits a 60 year old bard with 7 students. He sticks around to see the choir perform for him. The old man is harsh, as one student breaks down and cries at his critique.
A bartender asks “You want anything?”
“Sure, some dwarfsod. The whole kettle!”
“Yes, in fact!”
“Here’s your pot.”
“I’m Thom drum, you?”
“I’m Kom, this is my bar. Where were you when dwarves were getting stabbed?”
“It was in all places, elven land.”
“Which one?”
“Enstad the wonderful and hospitable.”
“What? Anyone who’s escaped from those jails gets a beer on me!”
“Yep, got himself stuck in the Lort Mountains.”
“How did you find yourselves all the way out there?”
“Extended vacation, the wanderlust took hold.”
“If you’re an adventurer, check out the Barrow Hills. I hear there’s treasure to be found.”
“Cheers! I’ll see what I can find.”

He wraps up his conversation, the bard students are better as the list goes down. Their quality is better, the other drummer is not that great, but the flutist and lutist are the best of them. The drummer’s style is much different, not quite like a human from around Greyhawk. He looks more Tiger Nomad, and his drumming reflects that. The teacher gives gracious notes to the last 3 students at the belittlement of the other students.

Thom offers to show off his skills to the students. He makes it beat beautifully. The other drummer perks up when he hears familiar Tiger Nomad rhythms. _”Tok, what did you think?”
Tok silently approaches and begins to beat more confidently with stick, fingertips, and palms. Thom attempts to retaliate, but fails.
“And that, students, is how you burn.”
“Well played, Chann.”
“I hear you incurporating Northern influence in your drums.”
“I have the North in my blood. And, under my cloak.” Thom whips out his wakashazi.
“Interesting weapon for a bard. Your attempts at marrying styles is clumsy,but over time Master Furlow will teach you. I take no pride in your shame.”
“No shame for me, I’ve been beating them on the battlefield far too much.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”

Lyssa and Lyks head to Modius’ apartment, which is guarded by the Black family’s hired guards. “It’s fine, the door doesn’t open for anyone it’s not supposed to.”
Lyks brings Lyssa up the spiral staircase and to the dust covered flat.
Lyssa looks around and sees the lab and magic items and less dusty orb stand. Over a fireplace is a portrait of Modius, its eyes seem to follow them as they walk. She does her best to suppress the new sensations.
“Do you wish me to stay or go.”
“Go, please.”
“Then do be so kind as to show me out.”
Lyssa escorts Lyks down stairs and goes inside alone. The door opens upon her command. Once back inside alone, she surveys the the room and sees a trio of keepsakes. They remind her of Drayden, Vortis, and Lyks. Each keepsake is a token from each world visited.

The twins decide to stay in their own house inherited from their parents. At Modius’ apartment, Lyssa scans a wand she finds using detect magic. She senses the wand is still potent, beaming with divination spells. She finds no personal tomes but does find records of the different monsters he’s encountered.

The next afternoon, Thom goes to forge a wakashazi blade, steel base with a silver coating. to be made ready in 3 days time, using 250sp. Grum spends his day searching the bazaar for a new bow, but first, new garments to enhance his stealthiness.
“Friend come over. You look for sneak, I have… boots of elvenkind. 2000gp. These boots, elvenkind.”
Grum inspects them, and asks to try on boots. The dealer summons over a big lug to watch him. They fit perfectly. “You like, you buy?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Grum turns back around and realizes he has gems and tries to haggle.
“2000 for boots.”
“You like gems?”
“I love gems.”
“Take this, and 100 gp.”
“I don’t want semi-precious.” he points to 2 of the more precious gems. “I take these two, you take these boots.”
“Fair enough.” Exchange is complete!
Grum continues to look but none of the bows are in his current price range.

Vetnik and Moira head to Vortis’ house. “I think my dad really likes and respects you, as a cavalier.”
“Both of those mean a lot to me.”
“I’m happy to bring you to see him.”
The pair find Vortis as white as a sheet. “Moira, come inside.”
“Are you ok?” Ve
Vortis rests against the two of them and inside they see a young knight. “Lady Steelshaper. I am Norrin, I was there when your father fell. I was just a little boy. He saved my mom, my dad, my whole village. I caught him as he fell, he made me promise to come here after I when through my rites of manhood.”
He presents Vortis’ shield and Drayden’s sword. Vortis is beside himself with shock. “This means a lot to me, and Moira… and Barth, wherever is he is. You’ve traveled far, I offer you a stay in our home.”
“But Vortis, if you don’t feel up for it, I’m sure zen wouldn’t mind.”
“No! What he’s done for me.”

Moira and Norrin talk. Tearful, she thanks him for having something of her father’s. “I wish to train as a paladin of Cortox.”
“Abosultely I will take you to the church to receive training.”

Vortis presents Moira with her father’s holy sword. Vetnik watches in awe. Moira is overwhelmed and presses her body into her father’s for a moment. Moira calls it “Starstrike” in honor of her father.

In the evening, Moira escorts Norrin to the priesthood at the Church of Cortox. He’s in awe of her and fancies her. At Pimpleton manor, George prepares a dinner of gorgeous meats and root vegetables. Moira runs and embraces Lyssa as she is last to arrive. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend.”
“No, it’s alright. I’m just… trying to process the past 24 hours.”
Moira

Lyssa describes the time Lanthis got turned into a lute to Lyks. “It’s like I have two minds in one. I know everything and still have no answers.”
“You have help now. An apartment, a tutor.”
“You said back at the guild that I reminded you of him.”
“No, we didn’t get along but I always cared for him. He left and I lost someone I loved.”
“At least you got to meet him.”

Downstairs, Moira does her best to restrain her tearful enthusiasm to Thom’s entertainment. Zemilay enters.
“I thought I’d never see that again” Lyks
“What?”
“That sword, it’s his old sword.”
“In honor of my father, I’m going to call it Starstrike.”
“That was a very special sword.”
“There’s other gods” Trissy

“May I have the orb?”
“Do you need it now or may I eat my dinner?”
“By all means, I’d hate to be rude.”
“Thanks for your permission.”

Thom talks about the treasure to be found in the Carin Hills, following the tip from the mage’s guild.
“Lys, how ya holding up?” Th
“I’m…….. I’m holding.”
It’s been a long day for all” Vet
“Not for me, I’m going out!” Tri
“Before you go, I want to speak with you.” Lyks

“I wanna find your mother.”
“You can’t. The demon—”
“It’s gone now!”
“OMG you’re right!”
“I’m going to go somewhere else.”

Trisoll goes to the church of Tritheron, and seeks to find a way to contact his mother and tell her to come home. Lyssa asks for the orb back and heads back to her apartment. The twins head to the Dripping Blade to find info. Thom puts the word out, tips on the Great Barrows for coin.
“5 pp”
“It’s a grave site, for many, so don’t let it become yours. The Lord of Giantkind fell there. You’re definitely going to find Hill Giants there. That is sacred ground, and they’ll protect it with a vengeance. The other rumor is that there’s a curse on the barrows against treasure thieves. Whatever it is, it’s supposed to be bad.” The informant draws a thorough map of the barrows and tells him “The bones of giants provide the essence of creating potions of giant strength. Even they’re weapons can be forged into girdles of hill giant strength.”

Lyssa returns to Modius’ apartment. She places the glowing orb back in its pedestal and burns a hole into the face of the painting of Modius before retiring for the evening.

In the morning, Trisoll pulls Lyks aside. “She’s coming back!”
“When?”
“Like a week.”
“Safely?”
“While she’s gone, take snowflake and get her back.”
Lyks is warm for the first time and he hobbles to get Xanti. “Don’t let them kill each other.”

Meanwhile, Thom gets new horses, saddle bags, and a pack of guard dogs to ride alongside the horses. They plot their trek to the hills, a 4 days trek past the village of Elmshire (where Ix is most favored.)

The party was once more back on the road, and it felt as if very little had changed. Grum still continued to lead the pack up through the plains, per the directions given to him by his brother Thom, he casually sat atop his horse scribing little details in journal whenever he could. Trisoll marveled at the sensations of the open road: the smell of fresh grass unspoiled by the chaos of urban life. Vetnik and Moira rode side by side, upright and sturdy. Lyssa kept to the back of the party, quiet but riding with a strange sense of calm. Gone, it seemed, were the constant sighs of dissatisfaction. She seemed strangely at peace despite the bedlam of the past few days.
“NOOOO!”

Out of a large thicket a nest of 11 large spiders that leap out of the bush. Thom begins to drum, changing the dynamic of the group and boosting their morale. Vetnik charges forward on his horse and stabs at the spiders. The first misses with his longsword, the second is stabbed with his spear. The spider dies. Moira charges ahead with her longsword and cuts the spider down. Grum fires a bolt from his horse, and kills the first spider. The second arrow slains another spider. Trisoll calls out to them that if the rest of spider flee, they will be left unharmed. The spiders reply in their native hiss that they shall not leave, and will feed on their blood! The spiders leap at Lyssa but are missed. The two spiders attack Vetnik but cannot pierce his armor. Same for Moira. Lyssa fires off a fireball and burns the two attacking spiders but also burns the paladin in the process. The spiders attack again, but only manage to bite at Trisoll. Trisoll staggers and falls victim to the venomous spider bite.

Moira rushes over to Trisoll and immediately tries to heal him but sadly only revives him slightly. Grum shoots at the spider that took a bite out of Trisoll and kills it. Vetnik swings wildly kills two of the spiders. Thom fires his arrows at the last two spiders but only kills one. Lyssa ends the last one with a series of magic missiles.

“I just need to cast a spell.” Tr
“You need to rest. Then you can cast.” v