Session 7 Recap & Experience Points Awards

 

Just two of the towering black crags remained unexplored, and the company opted for the nearest—just a short hike to the northeast through low brush and swamp weeds. On approaching, however, the party found the land scarred all around, with numerous streaks of scorched earth and blasted vegetation growing in stunted, gnarled fashion. The cause wasn’t immediately clear, but soon enough the first footprints began to appear. Four prehensile toeprints in a broad, reptilian pattern.

This was ominous, but the party continued, undeterred. Arriving at the towering outcrop, a wide, comfortable cave entrance beckoned. Not the usual rough, jagged gaps in the rock—but a symmetrical archway, with smooth walls and finished steps. Yet the passage of time and animals had begun working their toll on the stonework; rubble detached in places and the floor was caked in layers of mud. Halfway around the base of the crag the party located a second entrance, this one but a narrow hole in the ground—filthy, uneven, and dark.

The party opted for the larger entrance, which descended quickly into a wide, mostly-straight corridor with a line of marble tiles decorating the walls. Yet in two places those walls were broken open by large, irregular gaps—both of which revealed more of the prehensile toe-prints and the telltale signs of reptilian passage. And then, as the company huddled to decide its next move, the scaly grey head of an enormous lizard peered out from one of those holes. It looked angry. And hungry.

The dwarven cleric Brodrath was first to spot the reptilian threat, and did not hesitate. He hefted the fine runed cudgel the party had recovered from the last cave and bashed the lizard across its elongated neck. But this only served to anger the beast, which reared back its serpentine head and then spewed a torrent of caustic liquid at the cleric and his colleagues. Brodrath was able to block the worst of the acid stream with his shield, and the wood elf Vagar dodged much of it as well. But their companion Ailier Solenight was not so fortunate, as the acid stream smashed into him with full ferocity.

The cleric would soon heal the wounded martial artist. But first the giant lizard had to be dealt with, and this would not take long. The dwarven warrior Jadearch thrust his silver-tipped spear deep into the lizard’s body, badly wounding the creature. A well-placed arrow from the Vagar’s longbow then finished it off. The company had survived, but the peril of this cave was now undeniable.

Undeterred, the party marched deeper into the rock, following the tiled corridor a brief distance until it opened into a wide, open dome that reached maybe 18-20 feet high in the middle. Puddles of greenish, acidic water ate away at the walls in places and tinged the air with a bitterness that mildly stung with every breath. But the focal point of the dome was a modest stone house, surrounded by a rectangular pattern of floor tiles, that stood abandoned in the center. The structure remained largely intact, its fine stone chimney disappearing into the rock above, the letters “A.I.” gently embossed on its metal entry door. But its glass windows were broken out and there were no visible signs of occupancy or recent entry—except by the lizards that tracked mud through the broken window openings.

With the dwelling’s iron gates still securely fastened, the broken windows presented the most logical access points for the company as well, and they entered first into the central bed chamber. A decaying carpet spread over the floor, littered with debris from the crumbling stone walls and the broken remains of old wooden furniture. Yet an old oil portrait hung crookedly on the wall across from the door—though decaying and smudged heavily with dirt, the image remained sufficiently visible: a robed figure clutching a wooden staff and wearing a conspicuous jeweled medallion.

Through a narrow hallway the company came to a second badly damaged room, this one being the site of the broad central hearth. The exterior walls had given away in several places and spilled rubble across the floor, the debris mixing there with the rotted remnants of a blue half-moon rug and several pieces of smashed furniture. Streaks of dried mud covered much of everything, especially around the smashed double windows. As the company began to poke around the ruin, however, they suddenly heard a light, raspy voice from within the chimney.

“You disgusting lycanthropes,” the voice began, speaking in perfect Low Sekaran. “Just get out of here before I have to smoke ‘ya.”

“We’re not lycanthropes--,” the dwarf Jadearch responded. But the voice quickly cut him off.

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” the voice retorted. “There’s nobody else here but lycanthropes. Begone!”

Undeterred, the company repeated its assurances that they were not lycanthropes, adding they had in fact come to the Rock Marsh precisely to hunt down and kill the marauding lycanthropes. But the voice remained unconvinced, ultimately threatening again to “smoke” the party unless they departed before the count of five.

The being did interrupt the countdown to answer the party’s inquiry as to the owner of the abandoned house. “You really don’t know?” the creature chuckled. “Fine. I’ll tell you.” He went on to explain the house had been the residence of one Asorin Itall, an “asshat wizard” who “really goes around like that, with that obnoxious medallion and his precious wooden staff.” Itall apparently abandoned the house one day, for reasons unknown to the speaker. “He left me here,” the being added. “I hope someone finds him, comes up behind him, and sticks him just like [inaudible].” 

In the course of the explanation, the being also reflected a rather strange relationship to time. The mage had been gone only “a matter of minutes” to the speaker—though quite clearly the departure had occurred months or even years prior, from the looks of his former abode. The being more than once used the phrase “your time,” meaning to distinguish human and demi-human time scales from his own. But this was never fully explained, and the count reached four.

The being mockingly rejected the party’s offer for help. “I don’t need any ‘help’ from the likes of you,” he insisted, “even if you weren’t lycanthropes.” The being insisted he could leave this place if he so chose, and wasn’t particularly concerned about any dangers presented by the lycanthropes, giant lizards, or other local monsters. Though he did find the lycanthropes tiresome and revolting. At this the count reached three.

The tenor of the conversation finally changed, however, when Jadearch swiftly placed a flask of whiskey at the base of the hearth. In so doing, the dwarf caught a glimpse of the pinpoint light at the distant top of the chimney—likely several hundred feet above. But the being, whether for the darkness or other explanation, was nowhere to be seen.

“Hmm,” the being muttered, in seeming recognition that the area lycanthropes would never consider a goodwill offering such as this. And the tension softened slightly further when the party when mentioned their acquaintance with Sione Bari—the infected son of the farmer, Savu Bari, who had sent the party on this mission.

“The kid!” the voice acknowledged. “Yes. I have seen he is not like the others. Though I do not believe he has yet fully turned. So…perhaps you are not lycanthropes.”

Even so, the nascent rapport with the unseen interlocutor teetered on a knife edge, and the enchanter Tristan took a calculated risk. A quick arm motion together with a synchronized mystical utterance triggered an almost imperceptible blip in the weave of magic. The friends spell could well have alienated the chimney being once and for good. But luck favored the enchanter this day, and the voice from the hearth soon revealed a sudden, rationally inexplicable fondness for the eleven mage.

Within moments this strange conversation partner would reveal much of interest to the company. The S-marked grave the party passed in the Rock Marsh was that of “some snake priest before the new snake priest,” the being explained—before confirming to Vagar that the “new snake priest” was Banipal—the martenwere cleric Sione Bari had earlier described. This Banipal occupied the final rock cave to the north, where—the chimney being cautioned—he would be accompanied by two other lycanthropes and a host of the giant bloodmartens. “Best divide & conquer,” the being suggested. “Too many to take on all at once.” At least for those who you can’t just “smoke’em.”

“Can you teach me a spell,” the enchanter Tristan finally asked. The being, perhaps contrary to his ordinary nature, readily agreed—promising to meet Tristan outside the cave entrance in ten minutes for the lesson.

The being would make good on the promise. Exactly ten minutes later, Tristan ascended the cave steps to find a small (~3 ft.), dark gray human-shaped being seemingly formed of soot, with with vestigial wings and wrapped with smoke bands of smoke. Whether the being even had a solid form or not Tristan could not quite tell. But it swiftly taught Tristan the hand movements and the arcane vocabulary to produce dancing lights. “You’ll need catalyst for the spell though,” the being cautioned. “Witchwood. A glow worm. The morning star.” With that, the being shot rapidly into the sky and arched out of view, behind the rock crag and, it seemed, back into the chimney below.

Meanwhile, Jadearch and Vagar poked around the last remaining room in the mage’s abandoned house—this one having clearly been a workshop or laboratory of some kind. The floor was mostly covered by a rotting old rug and debris from broken furniture and pottery, especially a broken shelving unit that had toppled over and rested upon broken shards of ceramic and terra cotta. Apart from a few random silver coins, there appeared nothing of interest in the debris pile—until Vagar spotted the end of a substantially-intact scroll case sticking out of rubble.

Problematically, the same rubble pile was also occupied by a minor krait, a venomous, navy blue snake about three feet long with yellow bands along its body. Undeterred, Vagar drew his dagger and swiftly dispatched the creature, dodging the wounded reptile’s solitary strike with little difficulty. The scroll case contained two divine spells—one the party was able to recognize as neutralize poison, the other which remains a mystery.

 
Adventure Notes

Grey Lizard. Many varieties of giant lizards are known to inhabit Sekara Valley. Some, possibly related to the great dragons of legend, have breath weapons. The giant lizard encountered here, known as a Grey Lizard, was about 15' long and brutalized the company with its acid breath (3-12 damage, save for half). You estimated the beast at about 3-4 HD and it was well-armored (AC 5).

Divine Scrolls. While most magic scrolls known to the Valley bear the mystical writings of arcane sages, scrolls bearing divine incantations are sometimes also found. Most are believed to be the work of ancient orders of monks from the northern city of Q’in who worshipped a pantheon of deities foreign to Sekara Valley. Even so, the magic captured in these scrolls appears accessible to any who can decipher the runes—making them quite valuable irrespective of the bearer’s faith.

Minor Krait. The krait is a common poisonous snake found in wetlands in the region. Every child raised in the Valley has heard tales of ever larger and more aggressive kraits, often bearing spectacular banded color schemes. But most kraits are like this one: no longer than one meter and generally passive—though their poison is said to pack quite a punch. You estimate this krait at around 1 HD and AC 7. 

Asorin Itall. The abandoned stone house the party found inside the lizard cave appears to have belonged to a mage called Asorin Itall. If his chimney-dwelling associate is to be believed, Itall simply left one day and has not returned—though he does seem to have been quite thorough in removing any objects of meaningful value from his home. Any reason why he left, or how long ago this happened, you cannot meaningfully discern. The chimney being also said Itall carries a wooden staff and wears an “obnoxious” jeweled medallion—a fact Itall’s half-deteriorated portrait seems to confirm.

S-Grave. According to the chimney being, the barrow mound you passed with the white-bleached stones arranged in an “S” shape belonged to a “snake priest” that preceded Banipal, the current “snake priest” and apparent leader of the martenwere troupe. How the previous snake priest may have perished, who buried him, or how Banipal came to replace him, the smoke being did not say (and did not seem to know).

Mephit. Anyone who spends enough time around arcane spellcasters is almost certain to sooner or later come across a mephit—any of various minor elemental, often winged humanoids that malevolent beings tend to create and dispatch as messengers or to become servants of mages and others who dabble in the mystic arts. Though mephits from the core elemental planes (fire, water, earth, air) are surely the best known, many sages have speculated that just as many mephits come from elemental demi-planes such as ash, smoke, and dust. 

Experience & Inspiration

·        The company defeated an acid-breathing giant lizard (650 XP) in battle this session, as well as a minor krait (125 XP).

·        The company continued its exploration of the Rock Marsh, reaching and entering the fourth of the five Rock Marsh caverns (75 XP) and also locating its additional access point (25 XP).

·        The company recovered two clerical spell scrolls (100 XP) from the abandoned house, identifying one (50 XP) as bearing neutralize poison.

·        The company had a very successful encounter with the chimney being. Though its name and precise species remains a mystery, the company was not only able to avoid a hostile encounter with the creature (60 XP) but also learned the name of Asorin Itall (75 XP), gathered valuable intel on the remaining martenweres (200 XP), learned the occupant of the S-grave (75 XP), and even persuaded the being to teach Tristan Pureheart a new spell (125 XP).  

 Session 7 totals: 1,510 XP

The total 1,510 XP award from the session will be divided into eight shares of 189 XP each, and distributed as follows:

Jadearch (2 shares), 378 XP

Brodrath (1 share), 189 XP

Tristan Pureheart (2 shares), 378 XP

Vagar (2 shares), 189 XP

Ailier Solenight (1 shares), 189 XP

Rules: Turning Undead

 

I've been making some edits and improvements to the rule set and realized I didn't have any rules for turning undead. So, I have added some mechanics for that. 

Turning undead: many clerics have the ability to turn undead. This requires the cleric’s holy symbol and the cleric must spend a full round exhorting the undead to begone.

 

The cleric may turn up to 2d6 HD worth of undead per level of the cleric. Thus, the first step in turning undead is for the cleric to roll the appropriate number of d6 and then identify which specific undead creatures the cleric will attempt to turn.

 

Once the targets are identified, each undead makes a turn save roll (DC = 8 + the cleric’s magic proficiency bonus + the cleric’s WIS modifier). If the creature fails the save, it is compelled to steadily move away from the cleric for 6d6 minutes. If the creature fails the save by 10 or more, the creature is instantly destroyed.

 

Notes on turning undead:

 ·       Though turning undead works substantially the same as a spell, the ability does not need to be prepared ahead of time and does not consume spell slots when used.

 ·       A cleric may turn the same creature multiple times per encounter only if the  turn attempt succeeds every time. Once a creature succeeds on a turn save, the cleric can no longer turn that creature (unless encountering it again at some other time).

 ·       Some believe higher quality holy symbols are more effective in turning undead. Others dismiss this view as ignorant and offensive to the gods.

 

Example: An adventuring party encounters a pack of ten ghouls near a graveyard outside of town. The group[‘s cleric, Gadriel, raises her holy symbol and calls upon the goddess to banish these horrid aberrations. Being a 3^rd-level Sunmother of Vitiniba, Gadriel rolls 6d6 to find out how many HD worth of ghouls she can turn: 17.

Ghouls have 2 HD apiece, so this means Gadriel can attempt to turn eight of the ghouls. She specifies the ones she wishes to turn, and the DM then prepares to roll their turn saves. Gadriel’s magic proficiency bonus is +3, and she has 14 WIS (+2), so the ghouls will need to roll 13 or higher to avoid being turned. Five of the ghouls roll numbers between 4-12, and are turned. They retreat from Gadriel, running away in several directions. A sixth ghoul rolls a 2, and is instantly annihilated. That ghoul freezes in its tracks and suddenly crumbles to dust, right before Gadriel. The remaining two ghouls, however, roll 13+ and save against the turn attempt. Gadriel can no longer turn these two ghouls during the encounter and they continue ambling hungrily toward the party.

Session 6 Recap & Experience Points Awards

 

Cautiously, five weary explorers crept forward into a broad, domed cavern chamber where they hoped to pick up the trail of their missing comrade. They hadn’t known him all too well. But he was a sturdy trooper with a sharp blade, and all help was welcome in the perilous depths of the Rock Marsh.

Corso had come under the spell of poltergeists; spooked beyond rational thought, he’d taken off running into the dark unknown. The enchanter, Tristan Pureheart, tried to stop him. But Corso simply charged past, and soon disappeared into twists and turns of the haunted cavern. Now the party regrouped to carry on the search in a slow, methodical manner. But there remained no sign of the terrified hospitaller. Not even the shadowblade Ailier Solenight, a skilled tracker in the outdoors, could discern a single clue from the dirt and dredge of the cave floor.

About all the company did find was a strange, broad track in the dust—the unmistakable movement pattern of something wide and ponderous. There was truly no telling just what that might be, but with few other choices the party elected to follow it. This decision led them north through a new passage that dipped deeper into the earth, the temperature dropping precipitously as the group moved on. Nearing the end, the party sensed a faint humming sound, a monotone buzz that grew louder with each successive step, until finally the passage terminated in a deep, dead-end black chamber.

The cave was musty, frigid, and old, with a course floor crossed with rises and divots all over. The air hissed faintly from the middle, where the party set eyes upon a wide shambling mass of viscous dark vapor, purple and turbulent and sagging like a mattress stood on end. Semi-solid, the mass glowed and swirled with an internal light, flickered with wicked, bright yellows and streaks of pale blue. The spectacle was at once monstruous yet spectacular—so spectacular, indeed, that those who saw it struggled to look away.

Yet look away they did, just split-seconds after watching the colors form momentarily into a distinct teardrop-shaped crest with a flat blue bird—only for the image to instantly atomize into a churn of deconstructed energy once more. Unsure what to do, the party commenced an impromptu brainstorm here in the depths of the cavern. Might it be an illusion, one wondered aloud—but if so, perception in this case remained reality. Was it hostile? Might it even be friendly? There was no telling. Was it even a sentient being? One of the company tried speaking with the mass, but this proved of no avail.

Whatever it was, the violent energy maelstrom looked dangerous—and might well have had to do with the disappearance of their comrade, Brin Corso. But it drifted across the floor at almost painfully slow speeds, perhaps drawn to heat or energy or perhaps moving in entirely random patterns. Either way, it would not catch them of its own accord. Corso wasn’t here, and there were other paths to take. The party moved on, still troubled by the mystery of the shadowy mass.

Checking their bearings, the company found only one last unexplored region at the bottom of their map. Moving swiftly through the cavern, they reached another ample domed chamber, this one catching a slow but steady water drip from an unseen point high on the ceiling. The water dripped into a dark pool of cloudy water, smelling of sulfur and shot through with streaks of orange and dark greys and copious bubbles across the surface. Could Corso have found his way in here?

Wary of the pool, the dwarf Jadearch retrieved an ugly silver belt buckle he’d looted from a dead weremarten and lobbed it softly into the middle. Just as soon as the buckle smacked the surface the pool came alive with furious splashing and sloshing and bubbling. This continued for at least ten or fifteen violent seconds, then faded as the water calmed back down. There was something in there.

Several party members approached the water’s edge to investigate, and only now did they finally find trace of Brin Corso. His familiar boots lay partially dissolved at the water’s edge, and Vagar found his mostly-empty monogrammed coin purse a foot from the pool. But now would be no time to mourn. As the company drew near, suddenly a bedraggled tentacle of gull blue sludge shot from the water and lashed at the nearest body. That was Tristan, who saw the attack just in the scratch of time. He dodged out of the way, and his companions unleashed a torrent of arrows, crossbow bolts, and spear thrusts back at the origin point—not stopping until the waters fell silent again.

Moments later, the company watched as the inert remains of the aquatic ooze floated to the surface, where they steamed and dissolved into the acrid water. With the mystery of Corso’s disappearance now solved, the party decided to try a second time to unravel the secrets of what the dwarf Brodrath was now calling “the glitter shade.”

“Come to think of it,” the dwarf added, “I do recognize that crest. Think I seen a few of them up through the Fertile Pocket. They call it the Eagle of Awar.”

Perhaps there was more to know. The company trudged back to the northwest corner of their map, where again they picked up the ominous buzz of energy in the distance and cautiously crept up to the glitter shade—at all times averting their direct gaze. Here, the dwarf Jadearch would exploit the being’s ponderous pace to dodge around it and inspect the surrounding cavern. Tristan would take a more aggressive approach, having his comrades to tie a rope around his torso and then feeling his way along the wall into the cold of the glitter shade’s chamber.

As the being approached, Tristan decided to hold his mage’s staff outward, horizontally, to the meet its arrival. He would nearly pay for this decision with his life. No sooner did the glitter shade make dull contact with the staff, than a jolt of negative energy shot from the enchanter’s hands and up his arms and through his whole body—a withering strike that might well have killed him, had his companions not instantly pulled him away.

At this, Vagar released the first of his arrows toward the glitter shade, and then a second. But with the spellsword unable to gaze directly at the target, and uncertain how to discern center mass on a being such as this even if he could, both shots fell wide of their mark.

Meanwhile, Jadearch caught a glimpse of some object buried in the dust at the far end of the glitter shade’s chamber. On closer inspection, it proved to be the handle of a polished wooden cudgel—dusty, but still in fine condition and inscribed everywhere with unfamiliar runes. How such an item might have come to be here, or survived untold durations in the presence of the glitter shade, seemed nothing short of miraculous. “Magic,” the dwarf gasped, taking the cudgel into his grasp.

With little difficulty, the dwarf dodged back free out of the chamber and the five remaining members of the company turned their heels to the glitter shade once more. Within moments they would emerge back into daylight, heads above ground and again breathing the soggy air of the Rock Marsh.

“We’ll need someone back in town to inspect it,” Jadearch announced, producing the runed cudgel for all to see. “But I think it must be magical.”

For now, however, the group agreed the dwarven cleric Brodrath would carry it. The same Brodrath had lost his spear to the slime haunt in the Cave of Horrors, but his arm would be needed in battle. The horizon revealed two large rock formations still to be explored, and Sione Bari had warned of a weremarten shaman still lurking somewhere in the marsh. 

Adventure Notes

• Eagle of Awar.  North across the Three Sisters rivers lies the agricultural heartland of Sekara Valley: the Fertile Pocket. Many who have traveled through the region have reported seeing the colorful crest of the Awar family from time-to-time, whether painted on the occasional building or shield or stitched into a flag or banner. The significance of these appearances is not widely understood, as the crest is not an official symbol of the Amberdale Seat. But perhaps the greater controversy surrounds the species of the blue avian depicted on the crest; though known popularly as “the Eagle of Awar,” there are those insist quite forcefully that the bird is no eagle at all.  

• Glitter Shade. The untold variety of haunts and geists that arise in dark, remote places throughout the realm are believed to all have their own terrible stories. Indeed there are some who believe such spirits are created solely to record such tales, or link the ancient past with the long, unknowable future. What is a ghost, one wonders, if not a window into another time. Or dimension.

•  Runed Cudgel. The fine runed cudgel the company recovered from the glitter shade’s chamber is a single trunk of polished blackthorn, topped by a sinister knob of root wood. The craftsmanship is beautiful, and the weapon must bear an enchantment to have survived as it did, But the runes, which appear neither dwarven not elvish in origin, provide no discernable clue of its power. For purposes of game mechanics, the cudgel is equivalent to a mace: weighs 2 lbs., does d6 base damage, and is a basic weapon of the power style (i.e., enables use of a strength modifier).  

 Experience & Inspiration

·        The company defeated the aquatic ooze in battle this session. They also encountered the glitter shade and learned many of its characteristics. 360 XP.

 ·        The party completed its exploration of the Cave of Horrors. 75 XP.

 ·        The party learned the sad fate of Brin Corso. Though they regret being unable to save him, some in the company take solace in the fact that the complete annihilation of his earthly form will ensure he cannot rise as an undead being. At least, not unless it’s some kind of invisible undead being with no actual body. But who has ever come across anything like that? 50 XP.

 ·        The company recovered the runed cudgel from the glitter shade’s chamber. Ordinarily, the XP for recovering this treasure would not be awarded until its powers are discerned. Being it was a slow session, however, the company will receive a portion now. 325 XP.

 ·        Ailier Solenight is awarded one inspiration point for his suggestion that the party tie a rope to Tristan before he probed along the cave wall toward the glitter shade, which likely saved the enchanter’s life.

Session 6 totals: 810 XP

The total XP award from the session will be divided into nine shares:

• Jadearch (2 shares)
• Brodrath (1 share)
• Tristan Pureheart (2 shares)
• Vagar (2 shares)
• Ailier Solenight (2 shares)
• Brin Corso (1 share)

Of the total 810 XP, each share is worth 90 XP. Hence Brodrath gains 90 XP this session, while Jadearch, Tristan Pureheart, Vagar, and Ailier Solenight each gain 180 XP.

Bird Crest

 

Session 5 Recap & Experience Points Awards

 

Bidding farewell to Sione Bari, the company emerged back into the daylight and continued its search for the remaining martenweres. Trekking east, the party came first to a line of stones making a practical causeway across a wide channel in the Rock Marsh. Who might have placed the stones there, or why, or when—these were all questions so shrouded in mystery that none of the weary adventurers bothered asking. They simply formed up, and proceeding cautiously across—vigilantly scanning through the entire crossing for alligators and other waterborne threats.  

But they reached the other side safely and without incident. There, the party immediately came upon a fantastic stone lady, carved into an outcropping on the western face of another towering rock formation. Seemingly elven or half-elven, the long-haired, slender figure wore flowing robes and held an ornate mage’s staff in her right hand. The elves in the company immediately recognized her as the revered Aisul Awar, a Sentinel of the Last Age.  

Why such an immaculate carving of the venerated alpine elf would be found here was not entirely clear. But the domains of the Five Sentinels were never clearly marked. And the Rock Marsh does not lie so far from the Fertile Pocket—the highly-arable region of the valley and crossed by the great “Three Sisters” rivers. It was in the slopes above these rivers above that Awar settled and built her famous Chateau of the Three Sisters—and perhaps in the Last Age her gaze did extend so far as these swamps.

Whatever its origin or purpose, the company quickly found that the statue marked a narrow path through weeds and muck, leading around the sheer cliff face and to an easy track up the rock mount. Climbing quickly up, the group reached its broad, mostly flat summit and gazed down upon a full 360º view of the Rock Marsh. Above, however, clouds and gloom still concealed the far horizons.

But with more caves to uncover and more martenweres to confront, the company did not linger long. Scampering back down to ground level, the party proceeded eastward around the broad rock tower and before long passed a conspicuous barrow mound off the edge of the furrowed footpath. There was no marker other than a pattern of white-bleached stones, arranged in a symmetrical “S” shape, that topped the piled earth.

The company probed around the grave for clues. The grave looked fairly recent—less than a year old. But there was no indication of its occupant’s identity, or who dug the grave or placed the stones upon it. At last the elven spellsword Vagar began dislodging the stone to check beneath them. But there was nothing to be found—not on the surface, anyway. None in the party could tell whether merely moving the stones had crossed any line drawn in the canons of whichever unknown deity oversaw this tomb. But excavation surely would, so the party moved on.

Following the trail as it dipped southward to a broad black crag, the company soon came upon the yawning entrance to yet another cave. A brief search revealed a second, less conspicuous entrance—but one that also dove sharply into the ground and was so tight that the characters would need to have crawled through. So the party opted for the broad opening, which sloped gently downward into a sweeping tunnel branches that branched off in several directions.

The company opted for the first left turn, with the dwarves Jadearch and Brodrath leading the way into what proved an ample, slightly domed chamber. The walls and floors, they suddenly noticed, were preternaturally clean. But just as they began to grasp their very surroundings, a fearsome sludge suddenly dropped from above the remaining party members who toed the chamber’s threshold or lingered in the passageway behind.

Tristan the enchanter had the misfortune of being the seeming actual target of this clearly animated mass, but he dodged out of the way with astonishing ease and left the mass to reconstitute itself on the floor amidst the startled adventurers.

The company wasted not a single moment. They promptly beat the  strange, living goop with their clubs and staves—and most especially the battle axe of the burly hospitaller Brin Corso, which definitively ended the threat.

“Well,” muttered Jadearch. “Guess that explains that.” The dwarf’s simple comment connected the toxic, deteriorating remains of the grey ooze to the remarkable cleanliness of the room. This was a being not unknown to the realm; elders who sought to keep children out of cellars and crawlspaces often warned children of such sludge creatures, though they not actually seen frequently enough for their existence to be universally agreed upon. But now six men knew for sure.

The gray ooze had clearly consumed anything and everything there was to be consumed in here, right down to the very dirt and dust of the floor. But now its remnants lingered only as a hazard to be stepped-around; no longer did it move, think, or attack.

With this chamber about as literally empty as conceivable, the party returned to the main tunnel and this time too the first rightward turn. This time, the side tunnel continued some distance to a second fork—one tine jogging left and carrying on, the other tine jogging right into another domed cavern. But this time, there was hardly a decision to be made.

As the party approached the division point, a small rock flew startlingly—if harmlessly—from the domed chamber and clanged off the rock wall before the company. Then came another, and an ominous deep groan, and then another rock. Yet there seemed to be no one there.

Several members of the party moved forward to the chamber in hopes of learning who or what had hurled these stones. But on entering, instantly both Brin Corso and the dwarven cleric Brodrath would turn pale as snow and race hysterically away. To their companions, the resolute terror in both men’s eyes was troubling—and yet familiar.  This had not been the company’s first run-in with paranormal fear. Indeed mere hours had passed since Corso himself had last been in the throes of a similarly unnatural trance, one the company suspected may have been magically induced. Now, he was at it again.

And the affliction was worse this second time. For not only had Corso gone running aimlessly down the southward passage, but in turning to flee he had thrown down his battle axe—which the company saw land in a vile puddle of green and red slime that criss-crossed the floor in streaks. Immediately the acidic slime began to dissolve the weapon—helplessly corroding it beyond utility within seconds and making clear that just minutes later the axe would be fully disappeared. Meanwhile the cleric Brodrath threw his own weapon down to meet the same fate—before charging helplessly into darkness along the opposite, northerly path. And still the agonizing groans taunted the party, and still small rocks flew through the air to harass them.

 Realizing the unknown perils their fleeing comrades might stumble into, Ailier Solenight followed Brodrath to the north while Tristan chased Brin Corso to the south. Meanwhile, Vagar the spellsword joined Jadearch in the slime-ridden chamber where the two tracked the hurled stones to three strange, invisible sources. Using silvered weapons and a burning hands spell, the duo managed to swiftly destroy their tormentors—with the magical fire also clearing a good amount of the slime from the chamber floor as well. But the pursuit of the fear-ridden allies would not go nearly as smoothly.

Brodrath reached the end of the north-bearing passage before Ailier caught up to him. There, the passage switched sharply south and Ailier tackled the dazed dwarf just as he awkwardly shifted his course. Luckily, nothing came to meet the pair as Ailier held the dwarf down and waited for the terror episode to pass.

Meanwhile, however, Tristan struggled to catch up with the fleeting form of Brin Corso as he scurried through the twisty southern passages. His best opportunity came when Corso doddered into the grey ooze chamber and almost served himself up as a final meal for the already-deceased sludge being—then reversed course and came face-to-face with Tristan rushing back up the entry hall. Yet Tristan, perhaps confused by the hospitaller’s erratic movements, failed to lay a hand on him. Corso rushed off to the west, and disappeared into a series of forked passageways and branching caverns.

Tristan gave chase for a moment. But when he failed to discern Corso’s path, returned to regroup with the others. Where Brin Corso was now, and what dangers his uncontrolled panic might have carried into, the company dared not imagine.  

Adventure Notes

• Aisul Awar. Little is known in Sekara Valley of the Alpine elven society west of the mountains. Yet most hold the Alpine Elves in high regard for their most famous daughter, Aisul Awar, Sentinel of the Last Age. Known to have been an arcane mage, Awar’s magics are believed to have ensured the bounty of the Fertile Pocket for decades and enabled the rapid growth of the great city Amberdale from what had been in her childhood nothing but an obscure trading post. On the high slopes to the west, Awar’s Chateau of the Three Sisters still stands overlooking those three rivers—even if the people of Sekara Valley have long since lost track, and interest, in the names of those who fill the rooms of that citadel this day.
  

• Grey Ooze. Among the more deadly creatures the company has encountered in its travels so far is the grey ooze--a living mass of corrosive sludge that so resembles wet rock or melted stone as to be practically invisible within caverns and other subterranean environments. It's incredible camouflage makes the grey ooze highly capable of surprise attack, though with fortune having luckily steered this one to the side, what damage the being actually inflicts on those stricken by its surface remains in some question.

• Poltergeist. Of the many varieties of spirits and haunts known to inhabit the realms, perhaps the most common are the “noisy ghosts,” often called by the Khelgir word “poltergeist,” so often found in old ruins, underground caverns, and other forgotten places. Invisible and sometimes dismissed as mere hallucinations, these spiteful spirits aim try to terrify all who cross their paths—usually through dreadful howls and by hurling small objects with their telekinetic powers. Some poltergeists have also been known to generate highly corrosive, substances known as “slimes,” which can prove destructive or even lethal to any who come into contact with them. Others are rumored to possess even greater powers.

Poltergeist (slime haunt variant)

HP: 2d8    AC: 4    THAC0: n/a

Abilities: invisibility, telekinesis, cause fear (40 radius), only silver or magic weapons can damage

Special: always surrounded by slimes. Characters affected by the poltergeist’s fear have a risk of stepping in the slime, or may discard handheld objects which may land in the slime.

• Slime. The umbrella term “slime” refers generally to any number of sticky, corrosive substances that tend to appear in dark places, often in connection with undead or otherworldly beings. Exactly what chemicals and ichors these slimes are formed from is not well understood, particularly as slimes tend to be unstable and extremely hazardous. Some have even suggested slimes may be sentient beings; this seems dubious, though there can be little doubt that significant biological processes are at work within many (and perhaps all) varieties of slime.

Slimes are generally grouped by colors, of which the most dangerous is are believed to be those of bright green hue. A sufficient quantity of green slime will dissolve animal flesh almost instantly, and metal or wood in over a slightly longer period. Whether or to what extent the dangers of red or blue slime differs from green is not well known—and it is, of course, widely believed that slimes can appear in a practically endless variety of colors.

Experience & Inspiration

• The party defeated a grey ooze and 3 slime haunts in battle. 650 XP.

• The party continued its exploration of the Rock Marsh. Important discoveries included the carved lady, a strange grave with bleached stones arranged in an “S” pattern, and another cave complex. 110 XP.

• The party was also able to ascend the central rock formation, enabling them to see substantially the entire Rock Marsh from above. 125 XP.

Session 5 totals: 885 XP

As noted previously, XP awards from now on will be divided as follows:

• One share to each participating character;
• One share to each participating player.

Applying these rules to this session results in the following distribution:

• Jadearch (2 shares)
• Brodrath (1 share)
• Tristan Pureheart (2 shares)
• Vagar (2 shares)
• Ailier Solenight (2 shares)
• Brin Corso (1 share)

This makes for a total of 10 shares, hence easy math for the DM. Of the total 885 XP, each share is worth 88.5 XP, which we shall round up to 89 XP. Hence Brodrath and Brin Corso each gain 89 XP this session, while Jadearch, Tristan Pureheart, Vagar, and Ailier Solenight each gain 178 XP.

The Rock Marsh (trailhead marked)

Session 4 Recap & Experience Points Awards

 

The chill cavern air thickened with palpable tension as the nameless adventuring crew inched closer to the limestone column that blocked their view into the far corner of the chamber. Maybe they hadn’t said so. But all six of the party members believed there must surely be something lurking in the dark spot, conspicuous as it was in a space otherwise occupied by old crates, ceramic pots, and burlap sacks. Someone needed to go see for sure, and upon brief discussion that duty would fall to the hospitaller Brin Corso.

He approached cautiously, weapon in hand. But no sooner had Corso stepped around the pillar than he would suddenly turn and run wildly from the chamber, crying out in terror as he dodged through the narrow cavern pathways.

His companions drew back from the dark column and followed, as Corso’s screams grew more distant. Yet unknown to them, a pack of hungry bloodmartens had also heard Corso’s cries and pursued the panicked hospitaller from a different direction. Their paths would cross at the intersection of two narrow cave passages, where the company would face no option but to meet the beasts’ sable fur and razor claws with spears and blades and magic.

The company had already battled bloodmartens numerous times in their brief adventuring careers and knew the creatures, though dangerous, to be little match for their abilities. Yet the tight and twisty caverns left room for only the dwarves Jadearch and Brodrath to meet the foes head-on, while behind them the elf Vagar maneuvered to find an angle for his bow.

As the battle commenced, however, the fearsome sight of a much more dangerous enemy: a sword-wielding weremarten, who charged furiously up a hewn stone staircase through the south passage. The beastman shrieked as he did so, with some members of the adventuring company recognizing the howl as a by-now familiar summons that would draw even more bloodmartens to the fray. They would come from the eastern corridor, the same down which Corso had fled.

But they would not arrive in time. Vagar stepped forward and unleased a scorching torrent of flame from his wiry elven fingertips, and multiple bloodmartens fell under the burning hands spell. The dwarves advanced swiftly through the western passage, fortune smiling upon them as their spears cut viciously into their foes—the same whose claws deflected harmlessly off the dwarves’ armor. Their advance created an opening for the mage Tristan Pureheart to the bloodmartens’ den and unleash his most devastating enchantment.

Tristan’s sleep spell largely ended the threat to the west, as the dwarves easily finished off the only remaining bloodmartens not overcome by drowsiness. To the south, a master bow shot from Vagar delivered a silver arrow to the weremarten’s throat, wounding him so gravely that the killing blow that Ailier Solenight would strike moments later almost seemed an act of mercy. Only now would more bloodmartens appear from the east—the first of them launching onto Brin Corso’s back and sinking its fangs deep into the hospitaller’s neck. But with the foes to the west and south already defeated, this small pack of bloodmartens formed only a third wave in the attack, not a third front—and the company easily regrouped to defeat them.

As the din of battle fell silent, the company quickly attended to Corso, who appeared finally to have restored a calm mind. But though he’d been badly gashed from a bloodmarten’s backbite attack, already the wounds about Corso’s neck were healing and disappearing into unremarkable flesh. He stood amidst the pink mist jetting into the cavern at intervals, breathing it deeply—and enjoying immediate healing effects. The company had looked upon this mist with trepidation only minutes earlier; now they suggested, only half in jest, that the substance might be profitably bottled and sold.

Moving south to investigate the fallen martenwere, the company found actual stone steps that appeared to have been hand carved into the rocky ground and polished, leading down into a vaguely rectangular habitation chamber. In one corner, a heavy wool blanket had been thrown over a mound of earth to make a bed, with a small stool and dirty rug—undoubtedly looted from some nearby settlement or passing caravan—beside. Another corner featured a padlocked wooden chest, and a board lain across over two small rocks to make a shelf. The martenwere himself wore filthy human clothes, undoubtedly stolen from past victims, and had fallen still clutching a high-quality thrusting sword.

The padlocked chest bore the scars of hammer blows and various other untold efforts to open it. Where the martenwere might have found this chest or how he might have gotten it down to this cavern was from apparent. Yet here it was—and just as its prior owner had failed to access its contents, now the adventuring company faced equal frustration. When even a mechanically sound attempt to snap the lock off with the combined force of three man using a spear failed, nearly destroying the weapon in the process, the party realized the chest could only be magically warded.

Though losing hope of ever seeing the inside of the chest, the company decided at last to search the martenwere’s personal effects for anything that might enable the lock to be defeated. And sure enough, this search revealed a colorful silken scarf tied around the martenwere’s arm bore with a stitched monograph: “Alakarama Batikann.” Speaking these exotic words in the presence of the lock caused it finally to shimmer and click open.

On opening the lid, the party found several layers of cloth padding lining the chest. Pulling away the padding revealed five neat rows of eight tiny crystal cones, forty in total. The cones did not appear especially remarkable for their beauty or the rarity of the glass. But the enchanter Tristan immediately recognized the cones as the exceptional material component for the advanced evocation spell, cone of cold. That spell far exceeded the present capacities of any member of the company, but could make the cones quite valuable in the eyes of the right buyer. The company gathered the cones into their packs as safely as they could manage, and moved back north to again investigate the dark corner of the storeroom.

Peering finally behind the limestone shard again, the company found a truly bizarre improvisation. An exquisite glass demon head hung from the ceiling, tethered to a wooden panel on the floor in such a way that an unexpecting intruder, approaching quickly and in poor lighting conditions, might genuinely mistake the contraption for a genuine underworld being. Perhaps this had been what spooked Corso so profoundly, perhaps there had been more to it. But on taking the demon head down, the company then lifted the wooden floor panel. The panel covered a shallow pit, and proved to be a second trap—an alarm that sounded as pellets of gravel spilled from a cloth bag tied on the bottom of the panel and clanged loudly off of a tin sheet below.

By now, of course, nothing remained to answer the alarm—and the company appeared poised to move on. But the enchanter Tristan suggested the party first remove the tin sheet covering the base of the pit, reasoning that the elaborate traps rigged here might protect something more specific rather than just the lower-value items in the storeroom generally. Sure enough, buried in the gravel at the bottom of the pit the company located a steel box, inside of which they found a healthy stash of silver, gold, and even a few orichalcum coins.

Seeing no further paths to explore within this cavern, the company emerged back into the Rock Marsh. Moving east across a low-lying natural bridge that connected one narrow strip of land to a broader island-type feature, the party heard a sudden swish of water. In an instant, the fearsome eyes and snout of a large purple alligator bore down on the party as it lunged from the water and snapped its powerful jaws at the unsuspecting adventurers. Luckily, the company was able to dodge out of the alligator’s way and then dispatch the beast with spears and arrows. But the close encounter served to remind the company of the peril that accompanies each step through the Rock Marsh.

The party next came upon a trail of boot prints which led to yet another standing rock formation. This time, however, a pair of wool sheets hung like improvised curtains inside the rim of a cave opening. Nearing the rock face, the company noticed a strong, cinnamon-like smell in the air—as if someone had spread some kind of strong-scented spice all around the cavemouth. Before entering, the company searched around the base of the crag and found a second entrance—this one concealed and protected by a spear trap.

 Bypassing the trap, the company descended into the hidden entrance—only to find an entry chamber crisscrossed with additional snares and traps improvised from cords and bent tree branches. These proved more an annoyance than a danger, but as the party slowly cross the chamber it came to a passageway blocked with crates and scrap wood—behind which a common but muscular hunting dog sneered and barked at the intruders.

Discerning that the occupant of this cave was something other than a weremarten, the company exited and returned to the curtain-covered entrance, where they promptly announced their presence. There was no answer, so they proceeding inside and came again to a barrier of crates and filled burlap sacks—behind which the same dog growled and snarled. It was then that a figure stepped from the shadows. “Who are you,” a young man of maybe 19 suns asked the party. “And why have you come?”

Instantly the company noted the man’s resemblance to Savu Bari and his sons Yasi and Cisse, both in appearance and manner of dress—as well as the silver-tipped spear he carried. This was indeed a third son; Sione was his name, the oldest of the three. And he clearly dispelled any question the party may have had as to why he was living in the Rock Marsh.

“I was out with Kaloo hunting rabbits in the south forest when one of the infected ones surprised me,” Sione explained. “I saw him just at the last second. I dove out of the way, but he raked his claw across the left side of my torso. The nails went in deep.”

Jadearch asked whether Sione knew how the affliction might be cured, but Sione would not have it. “Perhaps the Most Exalted Sunmother can cure it,” he stated, “I doubt any other can. But false hope will not serve me.”

What Sione could help with was intelligence. He’d counted five martenweres in the Rock Marsh—not counting himself, of course. And with one exception, the others were fundamentally different beings. “Unlike them I am a man infected with the spirit of the beast,” he explained, not a beast infected with the spirit of man.”

That lone exception was the fifth martenwere, Banipal, who occupied a cave to the south. “I have seen his vestments,” Sione stated, suggesting Banipal to be some kind of shaman. “I have seen him pray. None but him have I seen speak any language known to civilized peoples.”

Sione paused when the company asked him to lead the way to Banipal’s cavern. “I already assume I will die here,” he answered. “The dangers of the Rock Marsh are many, and I will not survive them forever. It is fine. If this shall be the will of the Most Exalted Sunmother, then I at peace with it. I will lead you to Banipal.”

Adventure Notes

•   Pink Mist. Every dwarf has heard from a young age about the endless variety of strange gases and hazes that rise into caverns and tunnels from the deep earth. Though most are to be avoided, the pink mist that jetted up from crevices in the cave floor proved to have strong healing capacities—even though it degraded quickly in the cavern air. Brodrath has suggested dwarven elders in the Albernear clans or the Temple of Paomoer might know more about this particular variety.

 ·      Orichalcum. Commonly referred to as “dragon metal,” orichalcum forms from the shed skins of dragons, bits of which condense over centuries and harden into small, lustrous “metal” ovals about the same size and weight as trade coins. It is orichalcum that fills the hoards of dragons, not gold or other coins minted by some warlord or moneylender as is popularly imagined. And when great dragon hoards are found—typically no more than once every generation or two—their orichalcum pieces enter into circulation by humans and elves and dwarves as well. The value of an orichalcum piece in the Present Age has settled around 20 SP (2 GP). Ironically, however, the very discovery of an orichalcum hoard tends to diminish the value of the coin. This makes the actual value of orichalcum a good deal more volatile than that of other coinage—and is perhaps one major reason why the information about the locations of ancient dragon lairs is so highly sought after, and so tightly guarded by those who come upon it.

 ·       Caimán Morado. This is a higher-altitude variant of an alligator that frequents temperate marshes and wetlands. They tend to be solitary and smaller than their tropical counterparts. From your single encounter, you estimate the following characteristics:

•  HP: ~10            Thaco: 19        Speed: 15 (running or swimming)
• AC: 6                  Attack: Bite (damage unknown but severe)

• The Cone of Cold. Tristan has read of a higher-level arcane spell that creates a blast of freezing cold air which emanates from a small glass cone held in the spellcaster’s fingers and extends outward to freeze enemies. The cone is likely consumed by the casting.

 Experience & Inspiration

·        The party defeated 14 bloodmartens, the martenwere Treznor, and a purple alligator in battle this session. 660 XP.     

• The party was about to walk away from the demonhead/alarm trap but returned to search it more thoroughly at the urging of Tristan Pureheart. This resulted in the recovery of substantial treasure. 100 XP, and the enchanter is awarded one point of inspiration.

• The party discovered the healing properties of the pink mist that rises from a crevice in the floor of Treznor’s cave. 50 XP.

• The party continued its exploration of the Rock Marsh, discovering both entrances to Sione Bari’s cave. 75 XP.

• The party met and successfully interacted with Sione Bari, enlisting him as an ally and learning valuable intelligence about the remaining martenweres. 200 XP.

Session 3 totals: 1,085 XP

To reward players for showing up and participating, XP awards from now on will be divided as follows:

• ·    One share to each participating character;
• ·    One share to each participating player (which accrues to that player’s character).

Applying these rules to this session results in the following distribution: 

• ·       Jadearch (2 shares)
• ·       Brodrath (1 share)
• ·       Tristan Pureheart (2 shares)
• ·       Vagar (2 shares)
• ·       Ailier Solenight (2 shares)
• ·       Brin Corso (1 share)

This makes for a total of 10 shares, hence easy math for the DM. Of the total 1,085 XP, each share is worth 108.5 XP, which we shall round up to 109. Hence Brodrath and Brin Corso each gain 109 XP this session, while Jadearch, Tristan Pureheart, Vagar, and Ailier Solenight each gain 218 XP.