Rethilon's Story, Part 2

It took my mother, Shar’drissar Kulducet, several months to fully recuperate from her injuries. Without any legitimate clerics to tend to her, her broken fingers were the most difficult problem. Each had been broken in several places and once the swelling in each digit lessened, it had to be re-broken and then set properly. The pain caused by the procedure was anguishing, but, it was necessary to ensure that she would have the use of her hands restored to her. My father took it upon himself to administer to her, a fact that made her brood all the more. No self-respecting githyanki would ever dream of letting a githzerai aid her. Of course, Shar’drissar believed whole-heartedly that her attendant reveled in the pain he caused her. My mother taunted Zilkomer, hoping that she could coax him into killing her, thus putting an end to both her indignity and her suffering. To hear Bushi tell the tale, I am not certain of which was the greater test of my father’s discipline: his torture at the hands of the illithids, or my mother’s constant verbal abuse. Oh, and it did not stop with verbal abuse, either. On a few occasions, Shar’drissar physically attacked Zilkomer, even once drawing blood by biting off the top of his ear. After that attack, my father knew that Shar’drissar was healthy enough to move about, and so he put her to work.

Since he wanted to keep Shar’drissar’s continued existence from the illithids, Zilkomer assigned her to work with the dwarves in the fungi fields. She was tasked with planting and harvesting duties; a chore which aggravated her because it was something she deemed to be far beneath her station. Realizing though, that her options were limited, she decided to make the best of it, while biding her time and hoping for an opportunity to escape. It was during this time that she had the occasion to hear my father speak to the members of his growing faction. She listened, while he outlined the laws to which he and the other allied clan leaders had agreed to put in place. She looked upon the faces of the githzerai, deep dwarves, rock gnomes and others, who viewed Zilkomer with obvious admiration. Slowly, the ideas expressed by this upstart githzerai started to make sense, until one day, she was surprised to realize that not only had she grown to admire him, but, she anxiously awaited the next time that he would address the clan.

As I said, within a few years, the alliances made between the clans grew. The slave society was able to sustain itself. The clans were getting restless, though. My father had now been the mind flayers’ prisoner for twelve years. The time was coming when the slaves would revolt. They could not hope to do so without weapons and without training. Again, Zilkomer turned to the dwarves and gnomes for help. A few of them were craftsmen, While they did not have quality tools at their disposal, they were able to manufacture a crude forge, Metal was even harder to come by. Many of the weapons they created were made of stone. There were small deposits of copper and tin in some of the caverns, which allowed them to smelt bronze, which they in turn, used to craft swords and axes. The troglodyte clan preferred basalt, and took it upon themselves to make crude spears and axes. In time, the clans started to outfit themselves with weapons and those who had lived as warriors before their captivity, began to train their fellow clan members.

It was at this time, that Shar’drissar surprised Zilkomer with an offer to train the githzerai and the other members of the prison clan. She had the background of a fighter and knew how to use a sword, quite well. In truth, while she had every intention of following through with her offer, Shar’drissar was hoping that training sword fighters would also put her in closer proximity to Zilkomer. She had, by this time, become somewhat infatuated with him, Zilkomer wanted to see her in action first, and he made her prove her battle prowess, by entering into an exhibition fight with one of the dwarven warriors. If she won the match, Zilkomer would allow her to train the clan’s units. Zilkomer did not think the githyanki woman stood a chance, but, she proved her worth and bested the dwarven warrior.

Much to her satisfaction, Shar’drissar’s training did indeed have the desired effect, as she found herself in Zilkomer’s company, quite often. The two learned to respect each another, and, despite the differences in their backgrounds, they drew close. My father seemed to have a calming effect on my mother, and, it wasn’t long before they began sharing the same piece of cavern floor when they slept. Shortly thereafter, my mother began showing a bulge in her stomach, and soon, the members of the prison clan knew that a child was on the way. My father was insistent that his child would not be born into bondage. His plans took on a greater sense of urgency, and he pushed the other clan leaders into speeding up the time tables for the prison revolt.

Most of the slaves were eager to go. The biggest challenge they faced was figuring out how to move thousands of prisoners and stage them within the illithid’s stronghold, without being detected. It was imperative that all of the units be in position to attack en masse at the same time in order to overwhelm the mind flayers. There was only one way up or down, and, that was by what the illithids referred to as the cattle car. The cattle car worked on a system of pulleys, which could raise or lower the car the several hundred feet between the illithid’s level and the slave pens below. The car could hold as many as 50 slaves at a time. Usually, the car was raised and lowered six times at the start of a twelve hour shift. It took about thirty minutes to raise the car to the top, with the heavy lifting being performed by slaves on that level. The pulleys made a lot of noise. They key would be silencing the pulleys, and sending full cattle carts up at least 20 times within a 12 hour shift. That would give the rebels the ability to stage about 1300 slaves, and to continue bringing up more after the initial fighting began.

The troglodytes provided the solution to the lubricant that was needed to silence the pulleys. Their bodies secreted a natural slime, which coated their bodies and prevented their skin from drying out. As anyone who has ever been around a troglodyte knows, though, the stench from this secretion can have a nauseating effect. To counter this smell, the deep dwarves supplied a concoction of fermented and dried mushrooms, which, when mixed with the troglodyte slime, completely removed the stench.

Within a few months, real progress was made. The processed slime was stored in vats that had been made from cured animal hides. The dwarves also filled the stomachs of dead animals with the slime and fashioned slime bombs, out of them. Zilkomer was fascinated by the ingenuity of the dwarf.

The final plan was ready. In one week’s time, the slaves would launch their rebellion and either escape, or fail and die trying. In either case, they would be free from the misery inflicted upon them. At this point, I guess I decided that I did not want to sit it out. My mother went into labor and I was born about twenty hours later. My mother wanted to delay the attack for at least two months, and she asked my father to consider it. He knew, though that the other clans would never go for it. They were growing impatient, and now was the time.

The night of their assault finally arrived, and, as the third shift began, the cattle car was busy making extra, yet quiet runs. Hundreds of slaves, with weapons in hand made it to the top and positioned themselves for the attack. My father was one of the first to go, making sure that everyone stuck to the plan. While he made the rounds, he stopped to check on the drow faction. It was then that he learned of the drow’s treachery. The leader of the drow clan; the very first ally that Zilkomer had made, those few years ago, had left his unit and was on the move. He headed towards an illithid guard post and walked right in. My father followed him in the shadows and got close enough to hear the drow conversing with the mind flayers there. The drow clan leader had struck a deal with the illithids. In exchange for her freedom and that of her drow compatriots, she had betrayed the slaves. The mind flayers were in the process of taking up positions to ambush the slaves. They would not begin the killing until the drow all received safe passage out.

Confident in her treachery, the drow leader left the outpost and headed back to get the rest of her kinsfolk. She did not suspect in any way that she was being shadowed. Turning a corner, out of sight from the guard post, she almost ran into my father, who slammed two fingers into her forehead, and stunned her. He than threw an open-handed punch into her sternum which caused her chest to compress in on itself and her heart exploded. He caught her body before it hit the ground and then carried it back to his own people, who waited for him at the cattle car.

Zilkomer explained the drow’s betrayal to those around him. Issuing orders the whole time, he searched around until he found a sharp rock and used it to smash in the top of the drow’s head. He then pulled out her brain and tossed it over the edge of the cattle car. Barking orders to his men to get his wife and son, Zilkomer then headed back to the drow, who were expecting their captain’s return. My father told the drow to be on guard, as it was possible that some of the mind flayers might know about the planned slave rebellion. As proof, he laid the body of the drow captain on the ground and showed them that the illithids had consumed her brain. His deception worked, as the drow now moved out with the intention of attacking the guard post. Zilkomer knew that the illithids guards would not be expecting an attack from the drow, and, this might provide the slaves with a tactical advantage.

Just as Zilkomer had ordered, the slave units from other clans began showing up shortly after the drow departed. If the drow were supposed to have been able to march out of the illithid’s stronghold, then their exit would have had to have been near the guard post, and, if the rest of the slaves could get close to that point, many of them might also be able to escape. The sounds of battle began to echo throughout the cavern. The drow had launched their attack against the unwitting mind flayers.

Thankfully for the slaves, the acoustics provided by natural cavern systems makes it extremely difficult to discern where loud noises originate. As such, the sounds of the ongoing battle seemed to originate from everywhere in every cavern. As the battle raged on, many mind flayers held their own positions. Not being able to pinpoint where the battle was occurring, they pensively waited to ambush slaves who never materialized. The battle itself was being fought in the one location that the mind flayers thought would be free from the fighting.

After what seemed like an eternity to Zilkomer, my mother finally showed up, with me in tow. My father moved us out quickly. We followed many other slaves as they ascended the steep path upwards. There’s no telling how far we traveled, but, I am positive that the githyanki raiders who chose that night to attack the illithids had no idea what was going on. Instead of mind flayers, they found themselves coming face to face with my father and several of his loyal githzerai, armed with bronze swords and stone clubs. Our condition was of no concern to them, but, what was of concern was the fact that we were githzerai, and that is all they needed to know, in order to kill us.

My mother ordered the githyanki to stop. She explained that she outranked them all and that she too, was githyanki. She explained that the illithids might, at any moment, show up on our rear, and that we needed to get away. As she moved to get past the githyanki, they noticed the bundle of rags she carried was actually a baby gith. The troop commander grabbed at me, and that’s when my father yelled, “Leave my son alone!”.

The silence persisted, but a moment, as all githyanki eyes fell on my mother, who in turn cast a saddened look at my father. Acting quickly, she threw me to my father, a split second before a silver githyanki sword burst through her breastbone. Forming a union with a githzerai was considered a crime punishable by death, and, their commander meted out that githyanki justice swiftly. I am fortunate enough to know that my mother’s dying act was enough to save my life, because those githyanki soldiers would have killed me, too,

My father and his githzerai brethren fought for their lives. In fact, the other githzerai put themselves between my father and any githyanki who tried to attack him, and while they fought, they maneuvered in such a way as to provide my father with an escape route. The githzerai killed a fair number of githyanki, but, in the end, the better armored and equipped githyanki won the battle. Well, they would have won, but, before they could give chase to my father, the mind flayers finally showed up. Using their psionic abilities, the mind flayers kept the githyanki from teleporting away, and, I don’t mind telling you that it is my hope that those bastards who deprived me of my mother, got taken prisoner, and put through the same kind of torture that my father went through when he ended up in that hellish place.

Knowing that I would be shunned by githzerai civilization, my father looked up an old friend, Bushi, and asked him to take me in. He promised to look in on me from time-to-time, and, occasionally he does. He’s told me that he is proud of the progress I have made, and, he hopes that I will live up to the promise of my name, which means, “Union of the people.” Who knows. . .maybe some day I will bring the gith back together, I know, I know. . .it’s a lofty goal, but, I can dream can’t I. If my mother could overcome her hatred of the githyanki and even come to love my father, then I don’t think that my hopes are misplaced. Even so, one thing I have to do is live up to the sacrifice my mother made for me.

Strange Bedfellows

“War makes for strange bedfellows.” That expression is normally used metaphorically, but, in the case of my parents, it turned out to be quite literal. I was not there to see it, of course. What I know comes from Bushi, the master of my dojo, and my mentor.

About thirty years ago, my father, Zilkomer, led a githzerai hunting party on a foray onto the underdark. Their sole purpose was to find and kill illithids in numbers that equaled or exceeded their own. Meeting a fair amount of success at first, Zilkomer suggested that they go to greater depths than had been tried before. The honor, should they be victorious, would have been great, indeed, not to mention the fact that they might have garnered a great amount of much needed intelligence.

Fortune, being fickle as it is, turned against my father’s group, for the early successes they had enjoyed turned out to be the calculated means by which the mind flayers lured the hunting party into a trap. Without notice, my father and his friends found themselves surrounded by a hoard of illithids and their master brain, which prevented the brave githzerai from using their own powers to plane shift away. All, but one of the party members were slaughtered: their brains devoured on the spot.
The lone survivor, my father, was captured, imprisoned and tortured. Over the course of years, the mind flayers sliced into every layer of his brain, painstakingly scouring it for knowledge they hoped to use against the githzerai race. His survival alone was testament to his phenomenal will. Eventually, the illithids came to the conclusion that they had broken him. Always in need of thralls, they decided to turn him into a slave. What better way to feed their own psychosis, then to prolong the suffering they would inflict upon him?

Outfitted with a dimensional shackle, Zilkomer was tossed into the slave pens with the rest of the thralls. “Slave pens” was a phrase that was not quite accurate. Yes, there were slaves numbering in the thousands, but, there were no structures, or quarters for them to occupy. The multitudes inhabited a tremendously large cavern, where they fought one another constantly, over food, water and even for a small piece of ground on which to lay their heads. Most of the slaves organized themselves by race, in order to improve their chances for survival. For those who tried to go it alone, death was usually swift. Those unfortunates who were cast out of their clans were usually cannibalized by their former friends.

Fate did not have this end in mind for Zilkomer. The few githzerai that there were in the pens were aligned with the deep dwarves, rock gnomes and some of the other minor races, making the faction one of the largest.

My father’s servitude continued for years and during that time, he came to quietly realize that the illithid’s arrogance would always be their weakness. Zilkomer eventually earned a significant amount of respect from his people and he was able to attain a minor rank within the hierarchy of his prison clan. The problem, as he saw it, was that as long as the slaves warred with one another, they could never dream of the day when they exploit that weakness and secure their freedom. In fact, most of the slaves had resigned themselves to the idea that they could subsist in the pens until the day they died. The faction leaders in fact, seemed happy with the situation, since they were usually afforded a higher standard of living.

Things did begin to change though, when, one day, another new thrall was consigned to the slave pens. Her face battered, her fingers broken and her tongue swollen to such an extent that she could not talk; it would have been easy to mistake her for another githzerai. The tattered remains of her clothing gave away her true nature though; githyanki, sworn enemy of the githzerai. Several members of my father’s clan instinctively moved in to snuff out what little life remained in the woman. Sensing what was about to happen, Zilkomer placed himself in between the mob and its intended victim. He used the occasion to plead for the woman’s life, citing the teachings of Zerthimon, and vowing to take responsibility for her should she cause the githzerai any trouble. The bloodthirsty members of the clan took pause, but, only for a moment. As they advanced again, Zilkomer cried out, explaining that anyone who tried to hurt the githyanki, would first have to go through him. With this pronouncement, the mob hesitated, but, the clan leader, Karsigol, stepped past the ring of would-be assailants and chastised Zilkomer, ordering him to step away. My father refused. His defiance was a direct challenged to Karsigol: one that would have to be settled on the spot. Now, the crowd moved to encircle both Zilkomer and Karsigol.

Karsigol had been the clan leader of the Githzerai for fifteen years. As clan leader, he was better fed than the rest, and, he was able to choose his own work assignments. Numerous githzerai had withered away, while Karsigol had maintained his strength. Those, whom Karsigol feared might offer a challenge, were always put in charge of teams that were sent out to fight other clans. They seldom came back alive, which was a convenience that Zilkomer suspected was a system contrived by all of the clan leaders, in order to hold on to their privileged positions. This time, however, there was no avoiding the challenge.

Years of training, in the monastery of Zuoken, was a huge advantage to Zilkomer. The disciplines he had mastered in his early years had all been put to use during his long imprisonment. Of perhaps even greater advantage to the soft spoken Zilkomer was the fact that no one but himself was aware of his abilities. Karsigol was the larger of the two combatants, and, he apparently had concluded that this advantage was enough to win the day, because he made the first move. Charging in with both of his hands held high, Karsigol reached in to grab Zilkomer by the neck and strangle him. As he clenched his fingers to grasp his adversary’s neck, they enclosed around nothing but air. Zilkomer had fallen to his backside and kicked a foot into Karsigol’s abdomen, using the force of his momentum to send Karsigol flying up and over. The force of the kick knocked the wind out of the clan leader and he struggled to get to his feet. As he stood, he felt the force of another kick to the back of his leg, which drove his knee into the rocky ground, shattering his kneecap. Zilkomer showed no mercy to the howling Karsigol. He quickly grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back, extending his neck for the killing blow. Summoning his ki, Zilkomer’s hand flashed out from his waist, and in one fluid motion, grabbed Karsogol’s adam’s apple and tore it out from his neck. Karsigol looked up at the face of his conqueror in horror, unable to speak, as the blood splurted-out from his carotid artery and the air gushed from his windpipe. Zilkomer let go of his grip and the gurgling Karsigol dropped, face first, onto the cavern floor.

“Is this what you want!? Is this how you hope to live out the rest of your days, serving at the whim of the hated illithid?” The crowd of Githzerai stood in awe, hesitating to answer for fear of being perceived as a challenger to Zilkomer’s newly ascended position. My father continued, “I know of another way! My way requires courage!: the courage to forget about the perceived slights of the past from the members of the other clans!: the courage to trust the members of the other races! We have a common enemy, and, that enemy uses our mistrust of one another to keep us too weak to fight them! Our enemy uses our despair against us, so that we might not consider a better future for ourselves! For far too long, WE have been our own worst enemy! We have made it easy for the mind flayers! Surely, they laugh at us! Look at how little they respect or fear us! Tell me, when is the last time a mind flayer entered the pens? That’s right. . .NEVER! They have relied on the clan bosses to send up the appropriate number of slaves and workers. They’ve relied on us to kill one another and cannibalize our numbers so much, that I would wager that they have no idea how many of us there are. They have gotten to the point where they simply trust that the work will kill us or we will kill ourselves. I suspect that they have made deals with the clan bosses to make sure that we are tamed!”

The githzerai and deep dwarves that stood around now all started to grunt in agreement. His words were making sense. Kicking the lifeless body at his feet, Zilkomer continued, “Look at the fat on these bones! How do you suppose that in this place, with nothing but the maggot-filled scraps that we get, Karsigol was able to get so bloated? Take a look at the other clan bosses! Do they all look frail and weak to you? Why do you think that every time Karsigol had us run raids against other clans, it was always to kill their underbosses, AND, they were seldom protected? Why do you suppose that the other clans always seemed to know our defenses when they raided us to kill our members?”
At this point, the crowd was energized, realizing the truth of Zilkomer’s words.

“But, how do you think we can change it?”, came the question.

Knowing that he now had command of their loyalty, my father ordered that the githyanki woman’s wounds be tended and that she be hidden from the rest of the clans. As far as anyone should know, the githzerai killed her and ate the flesh from her bones. This was to be the way we handled any knew slaves that came to the pens. All would be welcomed into our clan, but, their fate would be hidden from the mind flayers. They would never know how many of us there were.

As it turns out, Zilkomer’s suspicions about the clan leaders was proven immediately. As the githzerai began to prepare Karsogil’s body for dinner, they stripped off his clothes and found a note in his pocket from one of the other clan leaders. The leader of the drow clan wanted the githzerai faction to send a raid to assassinate the drow second-in-command in two day’s time. My father led the raid, but, he did not kill anyone. Instead, he showed the letter to the intended victim and explained how things had been apparently working in the slave pens for hundreds of years. Later that day, the drow faction had a new leader, and the githzerai had a new alliance.

Over the course of the next two years, faction after faction in the slave pens received new leadership, but, the illithids were kept entirely in the dark. All of the factions continued to operate under the guise that their former leaders were still alive. Communications with the illithids were seldom, but, they were always done via letter, for the slave masters would never deign to come down to the pens. This gave the slave society the chance to establish a set of laws.

My father’s plan progressed in other ways as well. With all the new slaves, materials and tools were fashioned, which allowed the industrious dwarves to tunnel on their own, and, eventually, they found a series of connected caverns, with fresh water, mushrooms and game prey. The dwarves knew how to domestic and raise livestock, as well as to cultivate the fungal vegetation for consumption. In another few years, the slaves were able to sustain themselves. It must have been a site to behold.
I would be remiss at this point, were I not to mention my mother. As I am sure you have probably guessed, the githyanki woman my father saved was my mother, but, it was not all pleasantries between the two of them, let me tell you.

to be continued. . .

Solanthos: The Beginning, Part 2

After the tragedy that befell Solanthos' family and home he took some time at the Towers to recover from his wounds and prepare himself for the upcoming journey. He found himself in the library more often than not, studying the ways of conjuration and teleportation and trying to figure out how exactly he managed to dart behind his attacker without taking a step. He knew that there were certainly spells that would do such a thing, but at that point in his studies he could not grasp the intricate inflections and gestures needed to master them. He knew that something had triggered the ability at his greatest moment of fear and adrenaline and that it was instantaneous. Even his masters at the Towers could not explain the phenomenon, but they secretly were concerned that the trauma of the events caused Solanthos to forget the exact details of that night.

One particular evening Solanthos returned to his chambers to finish scribing a new spell when he found a peculiar and disturbing thing - a folded piece of parchment sticking out of his spellbook. His spellbook was magically guarded with runes that should have prevented anyone else from touching it, but somehow somebody managed to get by the magical protections on the book. He did a quick cantrip to determine if the note had any magical properties, but the telltale blue aura was nowhere to be found. He carefully opened the note.

In flowing Elven script, the note said simply, "I think we can be of some service to one another. We have a common enemy and common goals. If interested, follow the grey bird that awaits outside Greenwood."

Solanthos folded the note back up and looked around the room. There were no other signs of tampering anywhere in the room, and a quick survey indicated that no one had been seen anywhere near his room. He stayed up very late before falling alseep, pondering who might have sent this mysterious message.

---

Carandor was probably the most unorthodox looking elf the world has ever seen. He towered over most of his bretheren at over six feet tall and had a stocky build that rivaled the strongest of humans. Instead of having the long flowing locks that most elves favored, Carandor was completely bald except for one long braided ponytail hanging down to the small of his back. At first look, no one ever believed he was a full-blooded elf and he got many sideways glances from elves who didn't know him. However, he was just as elven as anyone else in Greenwood, and when Carandor's family moved to Greenwood, Solanthos took Carandor under his wing and as such they became fast friends. Their friendship to many was just as strange as Carandor's appearance; Solanthos was studious, thoughtful, and wise beyond his years, while Carandor was brash, arrogant, and impulsive. However, Solanthos found their differences fascinating and, as always, tried to learn as much as possible from this enigmatic character.

Solanthos arrived at Carandor's home a few days after receiving the note, only to find that Carandor was waiting outside for him, armed to the teeth and with bags packed.

"Wow... going somewhere?" Solanthos asked.

"Yeah - to protect you! You can't run off alone, you'll get killed!" Carandor exclaimed. Solanthos cocked his head to the side, but before he could say anything, Carandor produced a note, folded in a similar fashion on similar paper with the same flowing script. "Besides, you think I'd miss out on the fun and the chance to beat someone up? Give me a break! It's boring here anyway right now."

"Um, a lich just attacked the village. I'd say that's the least boring thing that's happened here since... well, ever."

"Lich Smitch. I'll beat up some pansy skeletal wizard just like I used to beat you! You ready?"

Solanthos sighed. There would be no convincing Carandor the error of his logic. "So, how did you get that note, anyway?"

Carandor scratched his head. "You know, come to think of it... I just found it a couple of days ago. It was the strangest thing..." He prattled on as they headed towards the city gates. Solanthos half-listened as his thoughts deepened into concern that this was some sort of trap. He also knew that he wasn't going to find any more information regarding his newfound latent abilities or the lich that destroyed his family and home unless he could find new tomes to sift through. Plus, he knew it would do him well to get the events of the last few weeks out of his head.

Just outside of the Greenwood gates, it did not take Solanthos long to figure out how they would get to their destination. A grey parrot swooped out of a tree, circled twice, and then landed on his shoulder. He rocked back and forth and cackled, then flew away toward the north. Carandor frowned.

"Are we really going to trust this random grey bird to take us somewhere good? I'd feel safer if we had a map or something." The bird flew back around Carandor's head, then swiftly plucked the earring right out of his ear and flew off, again toward the north.

"YOU SON OF A...!" Carandor bellowed as he took off toward the direction of the bird. Solanthos chuckled. He knew it was going to be a long trip, and knew that he might need to keep Carandor out of trouble, but he was glad to have the company.

(to be continued...)

Solanthos: The Beginning

Solanthos was born in a small elven town called Greenwood almost 150 years ago. His father was the mayor of the town, a former adventurer whose family had run the town for many millenia, while his mother was a beautiful and well-revered mage amongst the Elven Orders of Wizardry. They led a peaceful life with few hardships. Solanthos was generally accepted amongst his peers, but he tended towards introversion, preferring to study and read books.

Solanthos excelled in his studies. It became quickly apparent at a very young age that Solanthos would share his mother's thirst for knowledge and penchant for matters of the arcane. His father knew that this would be the best path for the boy despite his personal desire for Solanthos to be a strong and powerful bladesinger, so from that early age he started teaching him self-defense and attack techniques that even mages could use. The boy wasn't very strong, so he taught him how to use his agility to avoid attacks and showed him the art of throwing small weapons to keep foes at bay. When it was time, Solanthos headed off to the Towers for his arcane training.

Greenwood was only two days' travel from the Towers, so he went back home to see his family and friends whenever he got a break from his studies. His masters at the Tower all sent them brilliant praises of his natural ability with magic. He developed a particular affinity to the Astral Plane, quickly grasping the theoretical concepts of interdimensional travel and creating objects from what seemed to be nothing at all. As most elves, he shunned death magic from an early age; mastering the powers of the dead held no appeal to those who fought to preserve life and enjoy beauty. He also tended to avoid the powers of enchantment, as they simply held no interest to him. Solanthos much rather enjoyed outwitting his adversaries instead of taking command of them, and since all of the elves in the Towers were immune to such magic anyway, few people cared to learn the spells during their studies.

Solanthos returned home from the Towers during a fortnight break to visit, arriving well into the early morning hours. He walked up to the door and ran his hands over the familiar wards on the door to dispel them, but his attention quickly averted to the flash in the window. What he would see in that flash of light would be burned into his memories forever - his father laying face down in a pool of his own blood, his mother facing a dark-cloaked figure accompanied by several orcs. Tears stained her cheeks as she held her hand high in the air, the source of the flash. Then, complete and utter darkness.

Solanthos was disoriented as he felt his way around in the dark. He heard chaos inside as the orcs clamored and ran into each other trying to regain their bearings. He fumbled for the door handle, but found it to be red-hot. He then smelled the smoke, and had the horrible realization that his home was burning inside. In a flash of adrenaline and rage, he put his palm to the door and uttered a few harsh words. The the door blew off its hinges, and even through the darkness he could hear that several of the orcs were collected and thrown into the opposite wall, their bones making sickening sounds as they were crushed between ironwood and oak. He reached for the ring on his left hand, one his mother had given him to use in case his magic ever got out of hand. With one word, the ring would dispel all of the magic in the area, revealing the trespassers that had threatened his mother and killed his father.

He spoke the command word and the darkness fell away to be replaced by a far worse scene; the figure stood behind his mother poised for attack. She saw his reaction and turned to her attacker as the sword entered her ribcage. He pushed her unceremoniously off his sword and she crumpled to the ground, barely able to breathe. The attacker then rushed toward Solanthos. It was all happening impossibly fast. He took a step, wiling something, ANYTHING...

... and then was five feet behind his attacker. He felt the warmth of the magic around him and knew his mother was still alive. He knew that somehow he had hopped through the Astral Plane to get behind his target, but didn't know how. He also knew that his dagger would connect with his disoriented attacker in the precise spot it needed in order to kill him almost instantly. He didn't think, or have time to think. He just KNEW.

He threw the blade and it sliced, end over end. After two perfect rotations it implanted deep in the back of the cloaked figure's neck, leaving him gasping through a ruptured windpipe for air as his body went into shock. Solanthos turned to his mother, who was fighting for breath as well, and then heard a chant he didn't recognize from a voice he didn't recognize. His mother's eyes widened and she mouthed one word... "Run."

He took off toward the door and turned back just in time to see his mother engulfed in flames, and another more sinister thing attacking her. It wore the tattered robes of an ancient archmage, robes that had long since rotted and decayed. Its skeletal hand reached for her face in longing, whispering and hissing an incantation as she drew back in horror. She began to glow bright blue as Solanthos could feel a great shift in the magic around him.

The blue light gathered around her until it became almost blinding. Solanthos felt holes ripping in the fabric of reality as all of the magic in the area were channeled through her body. The energy, the pure mana, crackled throughout the room, dancing around him, intoxicating him with its power. He heard his mother within his head as loudly as he heard his own thoughts.

"Please go. I will do what I must."

He turned toward her but she flicked her hand, shoving him through the door with magical force.

"Please run now. You can save yourself. Know that I love you always."

The energy consumed the entire house, and then everything flashed white. Solanthos took a step forward, and was suddenly hundreds of feet away watching the explosion. Another flash, and he was a mile away. Another flash... then... nothing.

---

Solanthos woke up in his room at the Towers. Bleary shapes sharpened and formed images, and he soon was able to recognize his Headmaster and several of his peers standing over his bed, many with relieved expressions on their faces.

The Headmaster explained that a lich had been targetting his mother for some time hoping to one day steal her life force and use their combined magic to enter the world again as a powerful mage. However, he underestimated her abilities and she was able to banish him back to his phylactery. In the process, however, the entire house was consumed. He wasn't sure how Solanthos got back to the Towers though. Solanthos couldn't cast a powerful spell like that yet, but he suspected it was caused by his affinity for teleportation combined with the powerful magics that surrounded him that night. Or perhaps it was his mother protecting him one last time before sacrificing herself to temporarily banish the evil lich. Regardless, Solanthos swore that he would avenge the death of his mother one day, once his power grew strong enough.

He also knew that the only way to gain that power would be to leave the Towers, leave Greenwood, and begin exploring the world. Fortunately, the opportunity presented itself almost immediately in the form of an old friend... and a stranger named Cauchmar.

(to be continued...)

The Dragonscale Nursery

Drake donned the earth crown, an act which immediately set-off a chain of events. One by one, the crystal columns in the center of the chamber shattered. Each column revealed a secret: It had contained the essence of a powerful creature for centuries, as a final guardian to those who would seek to acquire the power of the earth crown.

Standing now, within the midst of the party were a fiendish looking ettin and a writhing mass of tentacles, mouths and eyes, which Solanthos understood to be a chaos beast. Each adversary moved to attack, with the Ettin taking some small abuse early. Solanthos detected a third foe, when he felt the force of a powerful wind which tried to push him back. Squinting, he could just see the outline of an invisible stalker.

As dangerous as the creatures appeared to be, the steadfast heroes demonstrated that they were far more dangerous. Going into a rage, Ymir pounced on the ettin, cutting deeply between the creature’s two heads. The force of the blow almost cleaved the ettin completely into two halves. Needless to say, the creature died where it stood, with one half of its body falling one way and the other half falling in the other direction. The force of the fall tore at the skin, completing the dissection. The ettins bowels spilled out on the floor at Ymir’s feet.

Drake meanwhile used the power of the earth crown to summon two large earth elementals. The first one slammed into the chaos beast with such ferocity that it liquefied the foe and splattered its guts all over the floor and on everyone standing nearby. Moving from outside of the shadows, the tiefling that the group had recently encountered now tried to sneak attack Dexter. The foolish tiefling had apparently not been paying attention to the awesomeness that was once again on display. The second of the two elementals slammed into the tiefling, literally smashing his face into the back of his head.

The only thing left was the invisible stalker. Dexter had managed to sling it a few times. Already hurting, the stalker was fairly easy prey for the earth elemental, who finished it off.

Congratulations to the party. You are now the proud owners of the Keep of Kings, and, with earth elementals under your control, you put them to work to make necessary repairs and to start new construction. If everyone would like, make a floorplan of what you want your section to look like. Also, Korik might want to build a temple of Pelor. Solanthos might want to build a gambling hall. You might want a barracks or community living quarters. You might consider adding an inn and trying to find people who would want to live in your keep. I am sure that notes, posted in Brindinford or even in the Capitol, Tringlee, might attract people hoping to profit from your newfound locale.

About two months into your work, a stranger, with a foreign accent came to you. He was bedraggled and apparently quite exhausted. He introduced himself as Targen Klem, follower of Villeforte Mondago. He explains that his master was abducted by a dragon lord for whom he had been searching. According to rumor, this dragonlord has been collecting dragon eggs and placing them within a type of nursery, somewhere in the Lortmil Mountains. This unnamed dragon lord is apparently planning to raise the dragons and sell them off as mounts to evil people, eventually in the hopes of taking over the known world. This dragon lord is also apparently a follower of the old ways of the Ddraigasa: Those who worshipped Ashardalon, the fearsome red dragon. Targen offered the party 500 gp each for the safe return of his master. In addition, since, as Targen pointed out, his master’s mission was to destroy any and all evil dragon eggs, Targen offers the party 500 gp for each and every dragon egg that they bring to him. Targen pointed out the general vicinity of the dragon egg nursery for you, and, with haste, the party left.

The journey was largely uneventful. At one point, the party came upon a crazed treant, who screamed out nonsensical rantings about a dragon. He accused the party of being in league with “the dragon” and would not listen to reason. The treant died at the end of Ymir’s blade and that night, the party had a nice roaring fire.

Another few days travel brought the group to the mysterious nursery. Tragedy almost claimed Drake’s life, when he was unable to detect the presence of an acid trap at the entrance to the ancient cavern. After successfully disabling the trap, the group proceeded in and cautiously looked to see what they could find. Drake noticed a pair of large blackscaled lizardmen in a corner of one room, and, hoping to score a quick kill, he loosed two arrows at one of the LouSs. (Lizards of unusual size) He missed on both shots, and the the battle started. Pouring out of almost every nook and cranny, LoUSs and hobgoblins came after the party. Gyrr and Korik took the brunt of the attacks. Gyrr came close to being knocked out several times, as did Korik, who was finally able to get close enough to keep both himself and Gyrr alive. Solanthos was, at one point, hurting as well, but, given enough time, the party showed just how resilient it can be, and killed off all of the enemies.

Searching around turned out to be quite fortuitous, as the party amassed quite a collection of treasure. In addition, the group entered a back room and found an old acquaintance of Korik and Gyrr’s: Meepo the kobold. It turns out that Meepo is the dragonlord, but, he is not acting as Targen Klem described. In fact, Meepo explained to the party that Targem is the one with evil intentions. Targem is hoping to raise the Tsaggest Darkweld, the dracolich, and, he needs dragon eggs for the ritual that will awaken the terror. Meepo has asked for your help in stopping Targem. He gave you a map of the surrounding area, which pinpoints locations to which you will need to go. Meep explained that in order to stop the ritual, you will need to find the Egg of Bahamut and the Egg of Tiamat. In addition, Meepo gave you a half-dozen dragon eggs that are actually dead, saying, “If Targen come for eggs, you give him these to fool him.”

And now, you are on your way. . .

Which one of you cleaned Gyrr's soiled underpants?

The intrepid heroes of Brindinford had finally completed the trek to the Keep of the Fallen Kings; property for which they had received the title from Baron Euphemese. Viewing the keep from the entrance, the wear and tear of the ages was quite apparent. The Kings Road wound its way all the way to the front entrance of the keep, where the doors had been destroyed. Searching the rubble in the doorway, Drake noticed the body of a dead dwarf under the door and found a pale blue ioun stone wedged between two of the flagstones on the floor. The dwarf had been dead for awhile, but, there was no way to tell just how long it had been since he had given up the ghost. Hoping to garner some type of answer, Drake used his ability to speak with plants, and was only able to learn that a large creature had recently passed this way. Wondering what the creature may have been, the party soon found out, as a half-fiendish ogre sauntered into view, attracted by the sound of Drake's voice.

The group acted quickly, realizing that the creature looming before them, had no peaceful intentions. The fiend gave a battle cry, calling for his compatriots to aid him, and then moved to attack. Drake and Lianna managed to loose a few arrows into the creature's wretched ashen hide, hoping to distract the ogre fiend's attention from the stunty dwarf Gyrr, who maneuvered closer to engage the foul beast in melee combat. The tactic failed. Entering into a raging fury, this harbinger of death stepped forward, acting so quickly that Gyrr failed to see the glint of the large falchion that swung toward him. The mighty blow struck Gyrr at the collar bone with a sickening crunch and cut so deeply, that the blade stopped only after reaching the dwarf's sternum. Gyrr died before he hit the ground, his heart exploding, showering his nearby companions and the ogre with a bloody sheen. Stunned, the rest of the party stood, with mouth's agape, wondering if their fates would match that of the indefatigable Gyrr.

Realizing that now was not the time for mourning, Ymir launched himself at the ogre, intent on avenging his friend. From behind a wall inside the keep, the sound of a horn blared and the party realized that the ogre had friends. Placing himself in a position to take out any enemies who might try to flank them, Solanthos readied himself to cast a web spell as soon as an enemy came round the corner in the hall at the rear of the group. The wizard's keen situational awareness was proven, the moment another ogre fiend rounded the corner. Launching his web spell, Solanthos was frustrated the the creature was dextrous enough to avoid becomming entangled. He knew, however that the ogre would at least be slowed down as it tried to traverse the web's expanse. In the meantime, Ymir, Drake, Lianna, Dexter and Ymir continued to concentrate their attacks on the abomination that had killed Gyrr. Collectively, the damage they dealt was overwhelming, and, Lianna grimaced with a small sense of satisfaction, as she buried an arrow in the beast's chest and watched it fall.

Turning their attention to the other ogre, the group fired volley after volley, killing him, before he had a chance to get out of the web. While the second ogre fell, a group of howling orcs stepped over the body of the first ogre and continued the assault. To add to the group's problems, the orcs had with them, a pet dire bear. To make matters worse, a chimera landed behind the group, coming into the keep through the entrance that the party had used just a moment before, and exhaled a stream of acid which struck three of the party members. Again, after assessing the situation, Solanthos used his magic to conjure a debilitating cloud of festering, putrisent noxious gas. The cloud enveloped three of the orcs and the dire bear. The dire bear and one orc were unable to withstand the gas, and they became violently nauseated; vomiting and excreting all of the foulness that their bodies could not absorb. Korik used a few of the attack spells in his arsenal to attack the chimera, while dexter and drake attacked with ranged weapons. Lianna felled the chimera, Drake focused his arrows on the helpless dire bear, and even korik pulled out his crossbow to help with the animal. Meanwhile, Ymir laid the hurt down on the leader of the orcs, and, it was at this point that the party began to believe that they might just survive the encounter.

Killing all but one of the attackers, the group manacled the nauseated orc and began questioning him. The orc was unwilling to trade his life for answers to the party's questions, and, after the nausea wore off, the orc lunged at Ymir, trying to strangle him. One attack leter, the corpse of the dead orc lay sprawled out on the ground. After looting the bodies of the fallen enemies, the party decided to heal themselves and then head back to civilization to see if Gyrr could be raised.

The sense of relief at the sight of Gyrr's rejevenated body washed over his friends like a wave. Although not quite feeling like his old self, Gyrr was happy to be alive again. (Gyrr is now 7th level again)

Going back to the keep, the group located a trap door that opened to an area below. Drake searched the door for traps, but, after finding nothing, he stepped back and JJ suggested that the meat shield that was not his real character (I mean, Gyrr) open the door. WHAM! The anti-gravity spell that trigged when teh door opened, sent Gyrr falling all the way up to crash into the ceiling, at which point Gyrr fell back to the ground taking damage from the fall and from the rubble that fell from the ceiling, burying Gyrr beneath, The group acted quickly to dig Gyrr out, but sadly, Gyrr was dead again! (Just kidding) They dug Gyrr out of the rubble and healed him back to full. Drake then descended into the hole and as he touched the ground, he watched as a large blue creature, of a type he had never seen before, stepped out through a wall. The scout scurried up the ladder and formulated a plan with the rest of the group.

Those party memebers who had the ability to feather fall, used the tactics of a vertical assault and dropped down the hole. After the party had all descended, the started to move into a large central chamber, where they once again encountered the Blue Slaad. A fight ensued, and the slaad was joined by a pair of fiendish-Girallon allies. This level fo the keep exuded evil. A river of blood, emanating from the statue of a devil on a dais at the far end of the room, flowed in two sections, which each meandered to the mouth of a demonic fresco on the floor. The mouth was an obvious source of evil. While most of the party maneuvered to fight, Korik used his turn undead attempts to destroy the manifestation of evil on the floor, as well as to destroy a pair of ghostly doors, which also exuded an evil taint.After killing the slaad and the girallons, Drake began to investigate the source of the blood that flowed relentlessly from the statue. Moving to get a closer look, he caught the attention of a crimson ooze, which then followed him into the large room, and the party once again had to fight. Eventually, the ooze was dispatched and Drake the statue was destroyed. The flow of blood ceased, and, after the blood pool drained, the party clearly saw a crystalline crown within the pool. Donning the crown, Drake was immediately receptive to the power of the crown. The Earthcrown allowed the wearer to summon one huge, two large or three medium sized earth elementals, who were tasked with the serving the crown wearer as long as the crown remained within the confines of the keep. The crown has several other powers, but, Drake immediately realized that if he takes the crown out of the keep or its environs, it will crumble to dust.

However, after placing the crown on his head, three blue crystal pillars shattered, and tehir former occupants are ready to fight.

When we return, the game will pick up at this climactic fight.

I'll explain more on the crown in the coming days.

The Surrounding Environs

As promised, here is a map of the areas in which you have adventured. As you can see, the Lortmil Mountains take up the greater part of the north side of the area you have been traversing. This map may not be large enough. I will be sure to print one out for you all as well for our next session.

Speaker in Dreams Defeated

The story of your heroics in Brindinford is on the lips of all of the town criers in Brindinford. Your group has managed to piece together the clues that led you directly to Baron Euphemese as the person responsible for all that ailed the city. After defating the forces of evil that had assumed control of the Temple of Pelor, you travelled to the Baron's keep, where you confronted him. It was only then that you discovered the true force of evil who had usurped the Baron's authority - a mind flayer, by the name of Gaerleth Axom.

Answering the Baron's invitation to join him on his balcony, the wary party was assaulted by the illithid. Athleitc prowess was on display as a few of you jumped from the balcony in an affort to kill the mind flaer as he hovered over the den below, blasting you with his psionic powers. Despite the odds, quite a few of you demonstrated remarkable mental prowess, as you withstood the assaults and lived up to your now glowing reputations. Ironically, Dexter and Solanthos succumbed to the attack, and, it looked as though some of you would meet your fate as brain food, served up on a platter of bone. Nevertheless, Lianna was showed extraordinarytesticular fortitude and managed to hurt the Axom, forcing him to delay his meal and deal with her. This gave the reainder of the party time to regroup and launch a series of aerial attacks. Gyrr provided the death blow to Axom, thus freeing his comrades and teh Baron from the mental clutches of the despicable mind flayer.

Now, richly rewarded and after spending time to re-equip, the party travels the kings road, on teh way to the Keep of the Forgotten Kings. The title for the keep has been bestowed upon you, but, already facing an attack on the road, it is obvious that control of the keep will have to be earned, by the sweat of your brows.

Drake Part 3

…I had never seen skin so pale, or eyes so lifeless. The evil in the air was palpable. I locked eyes with the mysterious figure, and I was nearly helpless. As a devilish smirk came over his face, I felt drawn to him, my thoughts became clouded. I heard a loud bark from Dorian, which was enough to help settle my composure. I glanced over at the fire and saw Greyson lying next to the fire with blood running down his face and neck. Dorian charged at the figure, and at that moment, without hesitation…it was like a reflex, I drew my bow and fired and arrow. (I suppose those hundreds of shots before breakfast did have a purpose.) As Dorian jump toward the figure, he was slapped away like an insect. Yet the man, the creature…the “whatever” did not expect the arrow that was aimed at his chest. He was surprised when his chest was punctured by my arrow. The look of hate in his face was something I would never forget. He pulled the arrow out, and broke it. Then with the same smirk that I had seen moments before, he evaporated in to a mist. I heard his parting words…he simply said, “Later my boy…”
I ran to Greyson to see if I could help him, but it was too late. I closed his eyes and clinched his lifeless body. I knew that the sadness I was feeling was not what the Shalm would want of me, so I composed myself and moved his body to the fire. I walked over to Dorian, who was injured, and said my goodbye before I put him out of his misery. With Greyson gone, Dorian would not want to live, they were one. They shared everything, including their sight. I gathered what supplies I felt necessary for my travels, and left.
I made a living as a hunter for a short time, but found that my true passion and skill lied in tracking. Not to mention, it was a much more profitable business. Many people would look at me as a 16 year old boy and underestimate my prowess; I always found that to be advantageous. As the money got better, I could not help but be drawn back to that face that haunted me. Why was Greyson killed? Was it random? Was it a vendetta?
I made my way back to Greyhawk. The city that was basically my “home” now was disgusting to me. I tried to stay away from my old stomping grounds, but I couldn’t help but stop by to see my old “friend” Mosenrat. He was all grown up now. He invited me in and was very curious about where I had been and my life. I told him a little, but something felt wrong…he was different. He excused himself for a moment, and as expected, I began to browse through his collection of books and other assorted arcane trinkets. Suddenly something caught my eye. It was a book, the same color as the robe of the man that killed Gresyon. It was the exact same color, not to mention that it had a faded symbol of a dragon on the spine that matched a symbol I recalled on the same man’s robe. I reached for the book, and flipped through it quickly. At a glance, it referenced an old, long dead dragon cult. Mosenrat re-entered the room. He had a curious look on his face, and asked me to put the book down. I was confused, and tried to explain that I was just interested in the cover. He insisted that I put the book down. I did as he asked. Suddenly he had matters to attend to, and ushered me to leave. Fortunately for me, while rusty, my ability to pocket small objects was not completely gone. I managed to pocket a note that was folded and tucked inside the book.
The next stop on my list was to see Nooly Hoppertoss. He was nowhere to be found, and nobody had seen him for quite some time. However, I was able to track him down to a safe little cottage in the woods outside of town. As a matter of fact, I was waiting for him inside his home when he returned from a stroll in the woods. While he was surprised, he was very happy to see me. I asked him if there was any work to be done. He explained that he was retired, but a friend of his told him about a man claiming to be a noble and offering a reward for finding something or other. I thanked him and began to leave. He stopped me and asked why I really came back. I never responded.
I returned to town to meet this Vealfor Montego and accept his offer to find what he was looking for. The problem was that he had pretty much no leads to go on. I however did have a lead. The not I “borrowed” evidently was important. I was just a crude map with the words citadel written in Draconic. This was an artifact that was valuable enough for Mosenrat to hire a couple of thugs to come and find me to retrieve it. Sadly for them, I was able to spot them right off the bat. I waited until dark, and I lost them before I hit the city gates.
My ravels took me to a canyon with a temple way down at the bottom. I would assume that it had been long forgotten, but there were fresh dead bodies sprawled about the different levels. Blood that had not yet dried. I spent two days investigating the ruins, trying to retrace the steps of the tornado that had blown through this place. At the bottom of the temple I came to an opening with a broken tree. Scattered about were the twigs of creatures not unlike the ones that had attacked me a year or so prior. Suddenly I could hear a shuffling near by. An unholy, unnatural had risen from the dead, and was seeking to make me the next meal. I made sure that did not happen. After what I felt was a thorough search and documentation of potential clues I headed to the nearest settlement.
The villagers of the town told me about a band of travelers who had come through and helped them with a rather unusual problem. They relayed the story, and said that the band was led by a particularly calm dwarf, which at this point I could only assume is Gyrr. Without much to go on, my travels sent me following the trail of this party hoping to connect some of my own dots. However, I managed to always be a step behind them. I arrived at the next town after they had brought dozens of orc scalps to the mayor for payment. However, this same mayor had an unusual collection of weapons. They all possessed a distinct symbol, the mark of some dwarven craftsman. When I discovered that this craftsman was survived by an old woman in Brindonford, I headed there. I enlisted the help of this lady and the anvil that your group had as a means to possibly catch up with your party. I had this bow and kukri made, and in the mean time, I tried to find some answers for my own questions.
To bring the story full circle, after picking up my new weapons, which are of amazing quality, my search for answers led me to that “lovely” bookstore that you so graciously helped me escape. At this point I owe each of you a life debt, which is the standard that I live by. You have a trustworthy and capable comrade, and while I am slow to trust, and very coarse at times, hopefully, perhaps you will call me a friend at some point. Only time will tell.
Now, enough about me…shut up…be quiet…and stay back, I am going to try and keep you all from getting killed…

A Devil of a Time

I would like to apologize, and, I hope that you will all forgive me. I was quite uptight at the start of our session. As the host, I feel compelled to provide you all with a comfortable environment and a gaming experience with as few interruptions as possible. Being a single dad makes it difficult for me to mitigate interruptions. For the most part, I think my daughter has done incredibly well with the circus that happens at the house once every month on our game night. However, I still get very anxious about it all, and, while several of you have commented that you do not mind, I still feel that I dropped the ball this past Saturday night. Particularly when it came to the fear aura that the osyluths generate. The fact is, once you save against an osyluth’s fear aura, you do not have to make another save against that osyluth for 24 hours. I kept losing track of who had saved and who had not. I have had time to reminisce about the game, and, I think that Ymir, Solanthos and Dexter got the shaft. Ymir and Solanthos both made saves in the first osyluth encounter, and, I recall now that I made them take an extra save or two. Ymir ended up running away in that encounter, and, that should not have occurred. Likewise, Dexter ran away in the second encounter, even though he had made his initial save. I will try to come up with a better way to keep track of these things in the future, but, I hope you guys can forgive me for the oversight.

Secondly, someone suggested to me that I write up a tactical review of the combats that you had with the osyluths. The idea is to point out some of the mistakes that were made and to highlight the points where good decisions were made. I like the idea of a review, and, what I would like to do is point out:

1. Good decisions that were made, along with a “What if” to illustrate what would have happened if you had made a bad decision.

2. Mistakes that were made from ignorance of the enemy you were fighting and which would have been hard to avoid.

3. Poor tactical decisions that were made, with an explanation of what would have been a better choice and why. However, I do not want anyone to feel like they are being picked on. Let me ‘splain:

One thing to remember: Without foreknowledge of what is in your immediate future, you cannot expect to be prepared for every possible situation. Until the last session, none of you had ever combated a baatezu (devil) before, and therefore, It is doubtful that you would have known to prepare for that kind of monster.

The beautiful thing about the whole combat with the osyluths was the fact that almost every special attack or defense that the osyluths have was used. This means that you have learned that osyluths:

· Have some kind of damage reduction 10.

· Are immune to fire

· Can fly

· Can teleport at will

· Can attack with a bite/claw/claw/sting as a full attack action

· Have one heck of a grapple modifier

· Have a reach of 10 feet

· Have a fear aura with a 5 foot radius

· Do poison damage with a sting attack that saps strength

· Have spell resistance 21

The next time you fight an Osyluth, you will be better prepared, because you should know what to expect.

I would like to point out that the observations I am providing are my own, and, they are solely from the realm of my own opinion. As such, you readers may or may not agree with me, and that is fine. I am not trying to pick on anyone, nor am I trying to belittle anyone. These are just my thoughts and of course, you can take them or leave them for what they are worth.

From the perspective of the DM, it was nice to see you fight something that was out of the ordinary. There were some tactical mistakes made by a few members of the party, but, mistakes are not truly bad unless you fail to learn from them.

So, on to the review. . .

1. The Keep and Baron Euphemese

There was the potential for an encounter at the keep, when the osyluth first appeared atop the tower. The fact of the matter is, the osyluth was itching for a fight and was hoping you would strike. What you did not know, is that there were two more osyluths inside, numerous hell hounds infernal clerics, militia members and other, as of yet, unseen creatures in the tower. Had you attacked the osyluth on the tower, you would have been overwhelmed with enemies and you would either have suffered a total party wipe, or, you would have all run for it and tried to get out of town. Had you run for it, the osyluths would have flown to you, grappled with any character they could single out and then picked you up and flown away with you. If any character within an osyluth’s grasp had attempted to fight his/her way out of the grip, the osyluth would have climbed to 150 feet and dropped you, forcing you to take 15d6 falling damage. Those who did not struggle, or who survived the initial drop, would have been taken to the nearby prison, where they would have awaited their executions. You would have had time to formulate and attempt an escape, but, success was not guaranteed. The bottom line is, opting out of this initial fight was the RIGHT decision, and, it saved you a lot of time, death and heart ache. Kudos to
Gyrr for suggesting it, and kudos to the rest of you for acting on that suggestion.

2. The militia patrol

The militia members were scared. The use of web to immobilize them, while using a precious spell slot, was actually extremely advantageous. It should be obvious to you that you do not want to kill the militia members. They are only obeying orders out of fear. If they do not follow these orders, they will be killed by the devils that now rule the roost. Immobilizing them and questioning them was the perfect solution. You were awarded double the experience for this encounter because you preserved their lives and used your noggins.

3. Militia patrol with osyluth.

· Once again, it should have been obvious that the militia members were acting out of duress. Alas, you killed the four militia members immediately. It wil be a sad day in their households, when their loved ones hear of their demise. You went to great lengths to avoid taking the lives of the 6 previous militia members, so, I was a little surprised that you killed the next 4, particularly when you could have opted out of using Evard’s Tentacles to inflict damage. Had it not been for this, the use of this spell would have been more beneficial. You could not have known right off the bat that the osyluth had the ability to teleport at will. So, other than using the spell to prevent the osyluth from teleporting into squares that were occupied by the tentacles, the spell had no more significant value.

· Drake started off by doing very nice damage to the osyluth. Tactics fell apart though soon thereafter.

A. When it became obvious that the osyluth could teleport, Lianna did the smart thing and pulled out her bow so that she could do ranged damage. However, rather than skip a round of damage, she went with the option of dropping her melee weapons and running to a point where she could get a shot off. Ok, it’s understandable, so, not too bad at this point. However, once she got a shot off, and saw that her arrow did no damage, she automatically assumed that the damage reduction that the osyluth had required magic weapons to overcome. Liana blurted this out as well, and, this had a ripple effect.

B. Ymir decided, based on that information, that he could not now damage the creature, because in bear form, he had no magic attack and assumed that he could not be able to do damage. Therefore, Ymir decided to stand still and forego a move and attack. This is called metagaming, and, this is one way that metagaming is bad. It turns out that the osyluth has damage reduction 10/good. This means that that unless the weapon that hits the osyluth is good aligned, the first 10 points of damage done on an attack is absorbed. Well, Ymir could have done far more than 10 damage on his attacks, but, because he got the wrong idea and because he was metagaming, he skipped a couple of rounds worth of attacks. It’s not good, when your primary damage dealer is staying out of combat due to ignorance and metagaming.

C. Lianna is specced for two-weapon-fighting. She gets more bonuses and will do more damage when attacking with two weapons. Once Liana realized that her bow was not going to be effective, tactics should have been employed to pick up her melee weapons and try to attack with them. I even suggested that she might spend a round moving to her melee weapons, picking them up and then positioning herself for a full-round-attack on the next round. I know that Liana was hoping for a critical hit, but, a bow threatens a crit on a natural 20. A rapier threatens a crit on an 18-20. The much higher crit range means that Lianna had a greater chance of causing damage by just using her rapier. In addition, Liana could have helped set up a flank for either Ymir or Gyrr, making it easier to hit the AC of 25 that the osyluth enjoyed. It is important to remember that, while you do want to survive, group tactics will also help you survive. When you opt out of a fight, you leave your companions deeper in the lurch, and, you make it easier for the monster, who can now pick you off one by one.

D. Solanthos did try to optimize his spells. His use of lightning bolt was good, because it did teach you that the osyluth has magic resistance. However, in using it where he did, he did manage to catch two party members in the line of effect. Need I say more J. I began to feel sorry for Solanthos, when he decided to cast the fire-based spell (the name of the spell escapes me) only to find out that the devil is immune to fire. I know how troubling it is for a caster to go through his spells without much of an effect. However, you did learn about osyluths and fire immunity.

E. Kudos to Dexter for his sling kill on the Osyluth. The Halfling took out the monster.Truly a David vs Goliath story!

4. Two osyluths.

· This fight actually went better than the first osyluth fight. It was faster anyway. The fear aura really gave the impression of imminent catastrophe. However, Ymir kicked ass!. He critted the first Osyluth and killed it, before the second one had made it outside and was able to join in the fray.

· Drake took an awful chance by going inside the temple by himself, while everyone else took the fight outside. He used his slippers of Spider Climb to seek an advantageous position to shoot arrows on the osyluth inside. To his dismay, the osyluth flew up to his position and attacked. Unable to resist the terror, Drake bolted and ran outside, away from the fight. The tactical mistake here was the fact that Drake place himself into a position where he could not be healed. While he thought he was in an advantageous position, it turned out not to help. It was fortuitous for Drake that he actually failed his will save on the fear check, or, he might have ended up dead. The bright side here is that you were able to learn about the osyluth’s ability to fly.

· While Solanthos found himself without his most effective spells, he stayed within range to try to harry the remaining osyluth. He did manage to land one magic missile, but, the creature’s spell resistance was tough to beat. Again, this was a learning experience.

· Not to pick on Liana, but, there was a tactical error on her part. Again, she is specced for dual wielding. However, she quickly used up her remaining supply of arrows, hoping to land a critical hit. It would have been more beneficial for her to maneuver into a flanking position and attack with her magical rapier, gaining a +2 attack modifier for both herself and for Ymir. Granted, Liana was suffering from a strength of 6, due to the ability loss she suffered from the previous fight, but, she left poor Ymir hanging by himself.

· Fortunately for you all, Ymir was able to overcome his own fear, and he pulled off the truly heroic feat of taking out the second osyluth. The bards should truly sing about Ymir whence the tale is known by all.

5. The portal

· Korik had to expend a few turn attempts, but, his intuition paid off. I know I heard one person suggest that turning would not work against the column of fire that radiated evil, but, Korik made the attempt anyway and was able to successfully destroy the portal. Nice job here, and, it should be noted that doing away with the portal has not only made your lives easier for the rest of the adventure, but, now the immediacy of further assaults has lessened, and you should be able to rest

6. The imp.

· This fight was easy. You guys did what was necessary.

7. The infernal clerics

· Again, a fairly easy fight. The infernal clerics never stood a chance.

8. The Hell Hounds.

· The resist fire that Dexter cast on everyone was a nice touch. It saved Gyrr from taking additional fire damage. Tactically though, one flaw was the Liana’s attempt to use animal empathy during a fight and on a hell hound. A successful knowledge nature check would have been enough to tell you that the hell hounds would not have been affected, since they are extra planar and not animals. In this case, I would urge everyone to get familiar with your characters and their abilities, so that you know what is and what is not appropriate for any given situation.

Over all, the evening was successful. It was a learning experience to be sure for all of the players and the DM. No one was killed, and, you guys accomplished a number of major things, particularly the killing of the osyluths and the destruction of the portal. After your hell hound fight, you may want to consider resting, but, keep in mind that you have not cleared out all of the temple.

You are three to four encounters away from completing the adventure. All but one of those encounters should be fairly easy. The last fight will be challenging, but, you will ding after it. So, please bring your level 7 and a level 8 character sheet with you for the next adventure. Also, if you think you might want to buy items for your character after the end of the adventure, try to have an idea of what you want to get. You might not have enough gold to do it, but, if you end up with enough, then you’ll be able to make the purchase and we can get right into the next adventure.

Our next session is on September 18th. JJ will not be there, but, Cliff is going to play Drake.

Drake - Part 2

I was so surprised I thought that my heart would jump right from my throat. He put his hand on my shoulder firmly. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to escape, so I did what any moderately intelligent youth would do in a situation that he knew he could not get out of…I fainted.

The next thing I knew I was laying next to a fire in the middle of the woods. I had never really been out of the city, so I was both scared, and helpless. Greyson finally spoke in a low gruff voice, “You owe me boy. You are going to help me in what ever way I command, and in return, I will teach you to survive on your own - without stealing.” I rolled over and looked to the sky; before that moment the stars never seemed as bright as they did that night. I thought to myself, what did I have to lose?

The next day the work began; Greyson was impressed with my already honed skills for prowling and sneaking. Initially, he wanted me to do nothing besides look for hazards and scout ahead looking for deer and the like. However, each day he showed me that there was always more for me to learn. He taught me how to look for the most brittle of twigs that could make a noise, and how to move with the breeze to disguise my noise.

Greyson also taught me how to fire a bow. I must admit, I was a natural. However, he would not ever let me stop practicing. I was required to fire two hundred shots before breakfast. My arms and back would be on fire, but I am now glad that he put me through that agony. Greyson never talked much, which suited me just fine. I tend to prefer silence over mindless chatter, but since he never talked much I did learn to pick up on non-verbal cues much better. A couple of years passed, in which I was purely a scout for Greyson. I would look for game to hunt and sneak up close enough to find the weakest or the oldest, and then I was forced to allow either Dorian or Greyson to get dinner. We would visit small town and large during our travels, but only at night, and only to re-supply or to sell animal skins. Greyson was always sure to be out of town by day break when he would do is morning meditation.
This was the time in my life where I began to seek purpose. Greyson taught me in the ways that Obad-Hai wishes his disciples to behave. Obad-Hai teaches that one should live in harmony with nature, and that those who would damage the natural balance deserve swift vengeance. This was a concept that I could get behind. There are other deities that are also protectors of nature such as Ehlonna’s, but Obad-Hai's faith is colder and less compassionate than Ehlonna's. We believe that death should be in balance with life. As such, when followers of the Shalm hunt, we target the weak and sickly first.

A year past, and I had truly become a follower of Obad-Hai. My place was not in a chapel preaching to men, but in the wilderness and the shadows…looking for evil to quell. One day Greyson came to me and told me that I would be allowed to go on my first solo hunt. Dorian seemed like he did not approve. I was filled with excitement. I set out immediately. I wish I had stayed to listen what he wanted to tell me, but the mission…for me it’s always the mission.

I prowled through the forest for hours trying to find the perfect trophy kill to impress my mentor, but a strange feeling came over me. Something was not right within the forest, I felt as though the area was tainted some way. At that moment, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an animal, alone with a crippled leg. It was a beautiful buck, a 14 point, I would be a hero. It was fleeing, but would not last more than a day or two in those woods. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, the leaves were shuddering in the wind, the cool breeze was blowing, and the sounds of the forest went silent. I tried to clear my mind, preparing to put the animal out of its misery, but a small image entered my mind. It was an unusual track that I had noticed and let slip by. I couldn’t flush the image, and I decided to go back to find it. Something within me was compelled to leave the perfect kill and investigate the tracks.

After a few moments I located the tracks, and I cautiously followed the tracks, making sure that I did not leave tracks of my own, I remained stealth, and I did not want to be surprised. I came to a small clearing and saw two strange creatures surrounding an old doe. They were unlike anything I had ever seen. The bodies were a tangle of twigs, branches, and small bits of wood. Two arms jut out from their stunted, wooden bodies, each one ended in a three-fingered claw. Each had a pair of red glowing eyes that radiated from within their lifeless sockets. Initially, I wanted to just watch as these creatures cornered this weak and feeble prey, however, it just felt wrong, unnatural.

I fired an arrow and split one in twain. I moved forward and fired another arrow. The second shrugged off the attack. The old doe remained still, paralyzed with fright. Within moments, a half dozen of these creatures sprang forth from the woods and began to surround me. I fought valiantly, however each time I was scratched by one of those creatures I felt heavier and heavier, until I was unable to move. I could feel the poison coursing through my veins as I hit my back. I tragic way to end an eventful life is to be a hero. I suppose I knew better, but the heart sometimes gets the better of the mind.

As I looked up and saw the eerie red eyes surrounding me…knowing that my last moments were the ones I was living at that moment, something amazing happened. What appeared to be an elven woman, but unfathomably perfect and beautiful stepped forth from nothing. She was so physically that my first glance at her stunned me. The next thing I remember was her kissing my forehead before I fell unconscious.
When I awoke, it felt like déjà vu. Dorian was panting above my face, and Greyson was tending to the fire. Greyson said I was out of luck in my life time. He had spared my life, a nymph had given me her favor, and I was still breathing. At the time, I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but I know now that every second of my life is lived liked it could be my last.

Time passed as it does and I noticed little things about myself that were different. I was happier, I was more receptive to learning, but most unusual of all I could talk to animals, and even the trees from time to time. This was a secret I kept from Greyson, but in retrospect, I had a feeling he knew.

One beautiful day I was in my favorite tree enjoying the sunset, when a squirrel came to join me. The small creature was anxious, so I tried giving it some food too calm it, yet it refused. I looked deeply into its eyes and tried to talk to it, but only two words came through…GREYSON…HELP. I leapt from the branch to the ground and began running to our camp. I could see the flames in the distance and began to panic. I forgot everything I had been taught, my master, my mentor…my father, was in danger. As I approached the camp, I saw a figure in horridly arcane garb. His skin was pale, and his eyes were lifeless. He stood over Greysons limp body with an evil smirk on his face…

Drake: The Man, the Myth, the Legend (Part 1)

I know very little about who I really am or where I came from. As long as I can remember, I have been alone in the world. That may sound like quite a sad existence, but to be honest, there is a peace that comes with solitude. As far as I can tell my family was Rhenee. I mean, I look like they do, but, I couldn’t tell you the first thing about being one. I have a few friends that I consider family, although I couldn’t tell you if I actually have any siblings or blood relatives. I suppose it is possible that I don’t have a mother either, but I find that theory to be a bit suspect.

As a very young child I remember getting scraps of food from the kind older women who attended church, but as my cuteness faded, and my stench grew, such kindness became less frequent. I was a street urchin; an orphan with no home to call my own and an odd desire to survive as such. It was during this time that I learned how to use my natural abilities to help me make ends meet. Theft worked well, which is embarrassing to admit. Fortunately for me, I learned at a very early age that it was not the biggest and the strongest that made it on the streets (no offence meat shields), but the smartest. I don’t know what sort of blessings the star of my birth bestowed upon me, but I am very fortunate that wit was one of them. I spent my time learning the streets and alleys of Greyhawk. I would play games with myself; like trying to get as close to people without them noticing as I could, unlocking old doors and sneaking about peoples cellars in the night. I thought I was as skilled as Nerof Gasgal. However, such is the fantasy of youth. I stole food, and anything shiny I could get my hands on. Nooly Hoppertoss is a gnomish fence that helped me unload my merchandise. Now that I am older I know how badly he ripped me off, but I guess I can’t blame him since he also looked after my back for my many years on the streets. Remember that comment about family? Well he is one of those people. He is now “retired” and living out in the Celadon Forrest. He has a nice little cottage; it’s funny what you can afford after 15 years of fencing stolen goods.

As I got a bit older I became intrigued with magic. I knew some of the privileged children whose families could afford to send them to learn the ways of wizardry; I was just as smart, if not smarter then they were. However, I had no sponsor, no benefactor, no means to afford entry into a school. There was a short time where I thought I may have a chance to study. I became close friends with a young boy named Mosenrat. He came from a privileged family no doubt. His father was an adventurer so he seldom was home. The boy was tended to by his aunt, since his mother died during child birth. Mosenrat was and still is very cocky. In a way, I consider him my brother, however, we are no longer on speaking terms…I apologize…I will not bore you with my personal problems. To make a long story short, Mosenrat’s aunt was not a fan of mine. She didn’t think that a child without a home was destined to study magic. Yet, I did not let that shatter my dream. So instead I did what any foolhardy child would do, I obsessed. I read every page I could find on the subject. I found myself trying to look into the windows of mages. I even tried to hang around magic shops in hopes that someone could see something in me to give me a chance. However, no such chance ever came. Time continued to pass as it does, and rather than obsession, my feelings toward mages became bitter; such a childish way of thinking in retrospect.

I suppose I was about 13 when I first met Greyson. He was a weathered angry looking old Half-Elf, always bringing skins, meat and furs to trade late in the night. He would always approach his customer’s accompanied by his large wolf companion Dorian. It was very unusual, but they had the exact same eyes. I admired the patience of his gait, and his relative comfort under the cover of darkness. I started watching him from a distance at first, but as my youthful arrogance got the best of me, I tried to get closer and closer. It was odd, I felt like no matter what I did, I could never get his attention. Often people will turn their head quickly, or see you out of the corner of their eye when you skulk in the shadows, but Greyson never even flinched when I was close. This lack of attention fueled my next boneheaded, life-changing act. One night while he was ordering a meal, I decided I could sneak up on Greyson and snatch his purse. I was right, I did just that. However, by the time I made it back into the alley to count my spoils, I was greeted by a large wolf. When I panicked and turned around, I ran head first into Greyson.

“If Only I Had Taken Resistance to Cold!” - Agurro

Well, I hate to say it, but, the loss of Agurro was unexpected and unwelcome. Two cones of cold will do that do you, particularly if you've not had the chance to move out of the field of fire. . .but, I am getting ahead of myself.

Here is our recap of the last session:

The party returned to the bookstore known as The Reality Wrinkle, to finish the battle they had started the day before. It was fortuitous that the group did not spend time to allow the cultists to gather their forces, or, they would have had to fight a combined group of enemies from tow encounters. Arriving at the bookstore, the characters found the door open, but the first floor was empty. Given the choice of going up to the next floor or down to the basement, the party decided to block the basement door with a bookshelf and then head upstairs. Once they got to the third floor, the cultists, who were now prepared for a fight, unleashed another Wyste on the group. The alien creature blocked the hallway that led up from the stairs effectively and channeled the party into a single file. Wisely, the group decided to head back down the stairs to fight on their own terms, but, misfortune struck Orien, who had shapechanged into the form of an eagle. He found himself grappled by three of the wyste’s tentacles. The rest of the group tried to find a way into the room in order to lay the hurt down on the beast, but, with many trying and failing to overrun the aberration, most of the party ended up being knocked prone at the top of the stairs. Solanthos used his ability to shift to get into the room behind the wyste, but, he found himself surrounded by cultists, who pelted him with a number of magic missiles, taking him down to 4 hit points. In the meantime, Orien was partially swallowed by the wyste, with the resulting damage dropping him to negative hit points. Against the odds, Korik won a grapple check against the wyste was able to grab the talons of the unconscious and dying Orien, healing quite a bit of damage and restoring him to consciousness. While things looked pretty dire for a moment, good fortune did shine on the group. The eagle-formed druid was just barely able to claw his way out of the wyste’s gullet and Solanthos was able to get off a series of spells that destroyed the wyste and a number of the cultists. From that point on, Lianna, Gyrr and Ymir were able to make quick work of the remaining members.

The group then headed to the basement, where they fought and killed another gibbering mouther and the last three cultists in the building. There, they found two prisoners; Alein, the paladin of Heironeous, and a scout by the name of Drake. Drake asked to join your ranks and your group then headed to the inn to heal and rest.

It did not take long for word to spread of your exploits in the bookstore. That evening, you received an invitation to a banquet in your honor, sponsored by the merchants of Brindinford and numerous city officials. It was the town’s way of saying thank you for al of the deeds you have performed on their behalf, which, for the record, include:
• Saving many innocent people at the fair from an attack by wererats.
• Exterminating the wererat infestation at the bell tower.
• Putting an end to a string of murders in the southern part of town, and killing the grimlocks responsible.
• Rescuing the two paladins of Heironeous from the clutches of the alien cult known as “Those Who Hear”
• Destroying the cult members at the Reality Wrinkle.

After the banquet, and even though it was late into the evening, the party decided to head over to the cemetery to investigate the desecration of Lin’Thalus’ grave. On the way, you were ambushed by an ogre mage and a number of other assailants. There were assassins, rogues, a cult member and an evil cleric. The composition of the group demonstrates that the cult was perhaps working in tandem with some of the other sinister forces that you have battled. At the start of the battle, the Ogre mage was invisible. He used his surprise round to blast as many of you as possible with a cone of cold. After rolling for initiative, the ogre mage was able to go before several of you had the chance to go, thus poor Agurro taken down to -19 hit points. Korik too was seriously hurt, falling to -7 hit points and, even the sturdy Gyrr was taken aback by the damage inflicted on him, being taken down to 10 hit points eventually. Once again, you found yourselves in deep trouble. Mustering your courage and using your penchant for sound tactics, you fought back well. While nothing could be done to save the frozen Agurro, Orien was able to heal Korik before death claimed him. Solanthos sculpted a web that entrapped the ogre mage, who, while entangled, decided to use his invisibility power while fighting to get out of the morass of webs. The webbing also served as a buffer between most of your group and the rest of the enemies. Ymir waded into combat, raging and killing the two assassins that he targeted. Lianna and Drake pulled out bows and deftly took out a few others. Using his headband of see invisibility, Drake took the ogre mage down to a single it point, and finally, Solanthos, who had inflicted a devastating amount of damage on the ogre mage with his magic, killed him with a final spell. (Oh, and Gyrr got a kill or two in there somewhere too.)

There is some discussion amongst party members about the possibiity of paying for a true resurrection, for Agurro, at the church if Pelor in town. It stands that you will get a cut on the cost, thanks to all that you have done for Brindinford. You players will have to work that out.

Everyone is level 7. JJ has the loot list and you guys can determine amongst yourselves who gets what.

A few points of note:

1. The fight in the bookstore is the last fight that I know of, where your group will be bottlenecked in a 5-foot corridor. That first battle wit the wyste took quite a long time, and, in the future, when I can, I will create maps that offer a 10 foot wide hall, in order to take your group size in mind.
2. I think we can all agree that using minis on the projected maps is the way to go. I think I was able to alleviate a lot of the time I consumed by having to dick around with the electronic tokens.
3. Also, finally figuring out how to get rid of the auto scroll feature on the battle map sure did help prevent the map from bouncing around all over the place,
4. I think too, that getting rid of DMgenie was a bonus that helped speed things up from my end.

I will leave this recap posted until later in the week, and afterwards, JJ has prepared Drake’s background, which I will post for your reading pleasure. It will take several posts to complete the whole background.

See you all in a month for our next session.