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.