.jpg){kind=small}
Møøse Trained By: Hugh Foster
|
|
Great-grandchild of the sister's gibbon's friend of the nephew of the Campaign that Would Not Die, now in 3.25e Møøse Trained By: Hugh Foster |
 DM Comment: Arthur uttered the immortal phrase
"Yeah, sure, I'll pray to the God of Flaps" here, which reduced the DM to
hysterics for a short while... |
 |
As the victorious adventurers regained their breath, they glanced around at the huge, gloomy hall the late Grimwood had used as his throne room. Baylock made a beeline for the two chests that had stood behind his dias, while Baggy and Chambu looked around at their companions to see who needed their attentions. Neither missed the opportunity to prosecute the faith as they provided healing to Herb and Nazariel; Herb in particular was very badly wounded and quite prepared to honour whatever deity was easing his pain.
As Baylock started removing the contents of the chests and making a pile, the others went through the corpses for any valuables. As well as the eleven gnolls, there was a week-dead lizardman and an elvish body of similar age; these clearly had no valuables and attracted no interest from the adventurers.
 |
 |
Baggy headed for the corpse of the flind himself. Staring down at the blue-glowing dagger where it had fallen, she focussed her god-granted clarity of vision on it. The results were as she had feared; a strong miasma of evil clung to the weapon. She remained where she was, glaring down at it, as Baylock came up next to her. Both knew a fair bit about weapons, and were pretty sure that it was definitely not of elvish make, as Grimwood had apparently believed. "This was made by an orc," she said definitively. Nazariel joined them, then glanced at Herb as he headed over too. She glanced back and forth between the half-orc's huge, ancient ancestral sword Divisor and the blue glowing dagger. The style and design of the two items was very similar; wherever they had come from, they were probably of an age.
Chambu had cast a Detect Magic, and isolated the items from their loot haul that were enchanted. While the spell lasted, he used it to assess the Blue Knife, and was taken aback. While Skrrf's spear and the remains of Grimwood's flindbars were magical, the degree of power enchanted into the knife was massively greater. Nazariel shook her head. "When you get a mighty weapon from the lost past with a prophecy, there's always a Chosen One somewhere waiting to cause trouble." Herb grinned. "Is it me?" he asked brightly. Nazariel glared at him and he subsided.
|
Everyone was gathered around the weapon now, but there was a long pause before anyone mustered the courage to pick it up. Finally, Baylock reached out and closed his hand around it. Hefting it, he winced slightly; a slight burning sensation behind his eyes and a feeling of unease afflicted him. To Baggy's eyes, the malice of the weapon was coiled around his wrist. Baylock concentrated, attempting to coax any of the powers of the item to life despite its apparent incompatibility. There was a momentary flicker of light around him, and just for an instant, his comrades had a strange sensation of admiration for him, a desire to do what he said. Then it was gone, and he was just that guy from the Guild who's not a very good thief...
Shrugging, he set it down, and Herb picked it up. As he lifted it, it settled into his hand as it it had been sculpted to fit. The blue glow expanded to flicker around his hand, dancing across his knuckles like a prestidigitator's coin. He held it up, and the same sensation stole over his companions; this man, this half-orc, was one they could follow into the jaws of Hell itself - a true leader. For most of the party this was a minor sensation, but for Baggy it was a great tidal wave of emotion; only her iron commitment to the God allowed her to hold it off from overwhelming her. Herb himself felt good - really good - with the weapon in his hand. It made him feel powerful, and competent, and he liked it. He remained himself, however, and was quite aware that these sensations were coming from the Knife and not himself. He didn't need Baggy's urgent whisper of "Put it down; your soul is in danger!" to encourage him to pull a sack from his belt and drop the thing in. The glow was smothered, and the effects vanished. Baggy and Chambu drew deep breaths of relief. No-one was in any doubt now that this was their objective.
The loot was divvied up, with the priest and paladin accepting several donations to their temple from grateful healees. Nobody in the party had the spell Identify, and so two people now had potions of no known function. Nazariel had Skrrf's halfspear, which was clearly magical but to an unknown extent. Baggy had claimed the flindbars, the chain that linked them broken but repairable with sufficient time, craft and resources.
 |
 |
Chambu and Nazariel had cast all their available spells, and everyone was in need of a rest, so the party returned to the Wine Cellar, collecting Zabtog and Viggo on the way. Most were in agreement that they should investigate what the gnolls had called "spooks"; Talian felt that these ruins of his people's past should be cleansed, and Baggy and Chambu particularly felt that undead should not be left in the world.
Given that they were the last remaining enemies in the ruins and - by all accounts - not prone to venture out of their lair, the party settled in and made camp for long enough to heal and prepare.
 |
During that time, a lively debate was carried on about what to do with the Blue Knife. Baggy was firmly in favour of destroying it to prevent it falling into anyone's hands; Baylock pointed out that they'd been hired to retrieve it and wouldn't get paid if they didn't - though he also noted that an item of this power was probably worth thousands. Others chipped in and eventually an agreement was reached to return it to the Magistrate of Tzallis, as whatever else he wanted it for he wanted to deny it to the orcs. Clearly its powers affected those of orc blood most strongly, and any orc or half-orc possessing it would find raising a horde dangerously easy.
Baggy spent some time talking to Zabtog, putting the fear of Dragons into him to try and prevent him running straight to the nearest orcs with news of the party. The gnoll was eager to assure her that he wouldn't; "Orcs chase us here, Grimwood run away from orcs; if just me, run faster. Go somewhere else, somewhere safer."
With their faculties fully restored, the companions ventured to the eastern staircase out of the Wine Cellar. Baggy had poured a bottle of Holy Water onto her sword's blade, while Nazariel had cast her Mage Armour and Chambu had Bless warmed up and ready to go.
| DM Note: No-one in this party is human; everyone
has the ability to see in the dark! |
 |
As they descended the stairs, a growing uneasy feeling crept across them, a feeling of unwelcome and anger. At the bottom they saw through the archway a long, dank corridor with dripping, nitrous walls and faint tang of graveyards that extended into the darkness. Walls, crumbled away in many places, outlined multiple small side-rooms to the left and right, containing some kind of stone chests or boxes. Just at the foot of the stairs lay two gnoll corpses, rather desiccated but with no wounds visible. A very faint green glow was perceptible far in the distance, far beyond Darkvision range.
Nazariel gestured, and her raven Spy soared out down the crypt. As it reached the extent of their vision, she cast Daylight through him, and a wash of warm light filled the rest of the space - revealing two ghostly entities drifting rapidly towards the startled bird.
At the far end was a bas-relief of a noble elvish face, which Talian recognized with some surprise as Anladur, elvish goddess of Fate. In front of that was a stone basin on a pedestal, filled with glowing green fluid - the source of the glow. More immediate issues were at hand, however.
 |
Baggy lifted her sword, wound around with the chain of her symbol of the God of Good Dragons, and cried out in defiance, as Talian moved sideways and readied his bow. Chambu cast his Bless, and all the companions experienced a brief sensation as if vast steel wings spread out protectively above them. As he did so, the wraiths drifted forward, eyeing the bird Spy before passing clear through him. The raven squawked, all his feathers standing on end and fainted briefly.
Herb whirled his ancestral blade Divisor up over his head, bawled a battlecry and charged. The huge blade slashed through one of the wraiths, seeming to tear away a portion of the insubstantial material of the spectre. The thing screamed in eerie silence. As Spy recovered and fled onwards down the crypt, Nazarial also stepped in and sideways, then pointed a finger and sent a Disrupt Undead at the other wraith, missing it narrowly. Baylock - who had waited for the others to clear his path - advanced until he had a clear shot and sent an arrow tearing through the wraith advancing past Herb.
Now he had a close look at them, Herb could see them better, and could see the elvish features and archaic elvish armour, as well as the angry and anguished expresssions of the revenants. They bore the air of spirits forced into what they were doing rather than intrinsically evil ones; not that it affected anything from his point of view!
 |
Zurran, following Nazariel's example, launched a Disrupt Undead spell of his own, but his aim was also deceived by the immaterial nature of the wraiths and the ray zipped past - as the wraith moved diagonally forwards and down, sinking through the stone floor as if it were water. Seeing this from the corner of his eye, Herb lashed a quick opportunistic stroke at it, dealing some damage as it sank out of sight, leaving the party frantically casting about for where it would emerge. Belatedly, Chambu hefted the symbol of Bahamut and attempted to turn back the remaining ghost, but the undead power that propelled it was beyond his faith to discourage. As he did so, an arrow from Talian whipped past Herb and through the creature, doing no damage.
 |
Baggy clawed another bottle of Holy Water from her pouch and poured it onto the floor, creating a pool in which she and Chambu were now standing, planning a nasty surprise for the wraith if it came up directly under them. Baylock sent another arrow through the remaining wraith, which had now faded almost to invisibility, and Herb's great sword Divisor completed the task. As the spectre faded from view, Herb saw the silent pain in its face replaced briefly with relief and peace.
In the momentary lull, Talian and Nazariel moved further down the crypt, urgently scanning the floor waiting for the second wraith to reappear. Seconds ticked by ... and then it erupted from the stone floor directly behind Baggy, Baylock and Chambu - all standing in a line in the pool of Holy Water. Lashing out, its insubstantial claws slid through Baylock's armour as if it weren't there and passed through his arm. He felt his flesh chill and shrivel, and a great wash of fatigue flowed over him as some of his life energy was stolen. At the same time, the shape of the wraith hardened and strengthened, seemingly fed by the life it had stolen from him.
 |
Zurran delivered another Disrupt Undead, successfully this time, reversing the effects of the 'healing' the spook had received, and Chambu slashed it with his battleaxe, and Baggy stabbed with her heavy sword, still dripping with sanctified water as it tore into the spectral flesh. The wraith faded and blew away like smoke.
Chambu was able to heal Baylock's wounds, but advised him that the stolen life energy would only return with rest. The magics to heal such things were a degree of his God's power he was not yet strong enough to channel.
Baggy and Nazariel had moved down the crypt to the stone font in front of the face of Anladur, and were examining it. The evil miasma in the crypt was definitely coming from the green fluid in the font, and Baggy uncorked her last bottle of blessed water before pouring it in. The fluids mingled for a moment, then the clear overcame the ill green and the surface cleared. The sense of oppression and evil faded away; the font would raise no more revenants to attack the unwary.
 |
The others had already started to examine the stone boxes in the crumbling side rooms, and had discovered they were - unsurprisingly - coffins, each containing an elvish skeleton at least a thousand years old, in the shreds of funerary garb and with beautifully made jewelry adorning them. A strong sense of wrong in the plundering of these peaceful dead fell on the party - not least Talian, whose ancestors these were. All agreed simultaneously that to rob them would be wrong, and the coffins were closed up as the party left. Hanging back, however, Baylock kept his own counsel as to what was right, wrong and profitable, despite Baggy trying to keep an eye on him.
Chambu and Baggy did their best to leave the blessing of their God on the crypt, to try and protect it from further desecration. They were successful to some degree, though evil of power would still be able to enter. Chambu looked at the archway and stairs, hoping to see a way of bringing it down to seal the chamber, but Hill Dwarves are not as skilled as their Mountain kin in such things, and without any mining tools it was a hopeless task.
|
Emerging from the ruins for the final time, the group made camp on the hill in the early autumn sunshine, to rest up before heading for home. The fate of the captive Zabtog was debated, but most were in favour of freeing him as he had co-operated and seemed little harm on his own. Baggy once more put the frightners on him as best she could in an attempt to change his life choices. Only Talian had doubts. Standing over the cowering gnoll, the tall elf glared down at him. Remembering the pathetic elvish corpse in the throne room, he asked sternly, "Have you ever killed an elf?" Zabtog gibbered. "No, no not kill elf, Grimwood and Thurbag kill elf, Zabtog on guard that day! Only ever seen two elves, him and you, you not dead." Talian frowned. "If you ever kill an elf, I will know, I will find you, and I will kill you." The gnoll fell over himself nodding and promising, and Baggy cut his bonds. He spent a moment stretching, then suddenly bolted down the hillside and into the trees. Baylock and Talian watched him go, discussing the relative difficulties of the shot as he went, but made no move to stop him.
Maybe he would reform, be a different being? Who knew. But he'd been given a chance, and the followers of Bahamut knew it had been the right thing to do.
 |
Session Date: 15th September 2020; in Cyberspace! |
 |