Session 9 Recap & Experience Points Awards

 

The scrape of metal on stone echoed through the jagged cavern. An elven bowman and his dwarven colleague poked and searched through a litter of bones and debris, pausing every now and then to collect a forgotten coin or old lost treasure. The tunnels were quiet now, but just moments earlier the din and rancor of battle had filled their subterranean air.

Three fearsome white worms—carrion crawlers, they were often called—had surrounded the modest adventuring party. They flailed at the adventurers with terrible tentacles, striking with paralyzing stings that left three of their number powerless on the ground. The remainder of the company had fought them off, but only now did feeling begin to return in the legs and necks and fingers of the fallen. For them, the seconds inched painfully past—all the while knowing more deadly worms could emerge from the dark depths at any moment.

Their companions, the elven spellsword Vagar and the dwarven warrior Jadearch, had only to wait until toxin’s effect wore off. They passed the time collecting fallen silver coins and stealing glances at their guide—Sione Bari, the courageous but star-crossed son of the farmer who had sent the company on this mission to begin with.

The party had come across Sione in different cave near this one. There, he’d revealed a devastating infection: lycanthropy, the germ of the beast. The same disease that was responsible for creating the vicious monsters the party was down here looking to eradicate: the snake cultist Banipal, and two more of the ferocious martenweres. Sione hadn’t turned yet, so far as the company knew. But he would eventually, as even he knew. And that meant keeping an eye on him. Constantly.

Even so, Sione too had not succumbed to the white worms’ toxin. But he summoned what patience he could for the awkward novice enchanter Tristan—himself still regaining the feeling in his extremities—who dared ask whether Sione was “going to be okay.”  The question, bordering on the obscenely direct, might have offended a less thoughtful man. But Sione recognized the peril his companions must surely have perceived. He didn’t know Tristan had caught a glimpse of his dawning beastly nature, yet still thought an honest answer only fair.

“When I feel stress,” he slowly replied, “it tests my resolve. But you don’t have to worry about me.”

The declaration was somehow less than fully satisfactory. But Sinoe walked point and the company fell in line. They first passed a dark, thin crevice from which they suspected the carrion crawlers had come. Bari then led them deeper into the tunnels, journeying several minutes before dropping to his knees to pause the march. “Do you hear them?” he asked. “Mammals. Many of them. Straight up ahead.”

In the tight geography, the company perceived little option but to make a frontal assault. After a moment to ready their spears and arrows, all charged fearlessly forward into the dark. Spilling around the first corner, they found the floor matted with fur and animal stank. Bloodmartens. This was a den, home to at least twenty of them. Without hesitation the party fell upon the first several.

The cleric Brodrath struck the very first blow, slamming his runed cudgel down upon his target with deadly force. Seconds later, the spellsword Vagar dropped a second giant weasel with a well-placed arrow shot. As the rest of the adventuring party poured into the room, a third bloodmarten would fall, and then a fourth.

But there were just so many of them. For each bloodmarten that fell under the party’s blades, two and three others would quickly take its place. One tore viciously at Sione’s leg, and soon another sank its teeth into Sione. With still another wave approaching, more severe measures would need to be taken.

The company had hoped to preserve its magical resources for the looming confrontation with Banipal. But there would be no such encounter if they did not first survive this onslaught. The martial artist Ailier Solenight dug his knife deeply into the hide of another bloodmarten gnawing on Tristan’s shoulder, freeing the mage just in time to flick his staff and utter the arcane phrase sulnea antioisum! The spell, colloquially known as sleep in the common Sekaran tongue, descended upon the critical mass of the bloodmartens many dropped instantly to the floor in a furious arcane slumber.

But not nearly enough. Still several bloodmartens remained alert, and continued to defend their den. Another bit hard into Sione. And then another. And another. Sione, his skin shredded in multiple places and bleeding profusely from deep founds, fell at last to his knees.

Only then, on the brink of death, did Sione finally lose command over his dreadful disease. “Rrrraarggh!!” His fearsome shout rang through the caverns, and Sione seemed to magnify right before the party’s eyes. Muscles and animal hair bulged through his clothing. His hands shriveled to claws, and his face contorted to that of a marten-like beast, even as his teeth sharpened and his eyes burned orange. “Eeerraaaghhh!!!”

In an instant, Sione clutched the first bloodmarten that attacked him and snapped its neck in his bare hands. He grabbed a second and smashed it against the floor to deadly effect. “Aaaughharrr!!”

The party members watched in a conflicted amazement. Only reluctantly had Sione agreed to help with this quest. But having given his word, he served wholeheartedly. He had promised he would pose no threat to the company, and so far he had kept his word on that score as well. But that was not all Sione had said.

“I cannot return to my family,” he had solemnly confessed. “There are times I cannot control it.”

As the beastly form of Sione raged on into the swarm of bloodmartens, the wood elf Vagar steeled his mind and drew a silver arrow from his quiver. There are times he cannot control it. That was why Sione had taken up refuge in the Rock Marsh to begin with. He kept far from home for fear he might harm his own brothers. And soon the last bloodmarten would be gone.

Vagar’s arrow pierced violently into Sione’s left shoulder, eliciting an even more furious howl of rage. But the frantic weremarten did not turn his back. He grabbed yet another of the oversized mustelids in his beastly hands and tore the being asunder, its hide ripping as though it were but a thin strip of parchment. “Eeeahhhgghhorrrrahhhh!!!!”

The task was unpleasant. But Vagar drew a second silver arrow. This one sank even more deeply into Sione’s unrecognizable beastly body. Stunned by the impact, the unwilling weremarten dropped again to his knees—and the few last bloodmartens descended angrily upon him.

The company soon ended the skirmish, dispatching remaining mustelids with their spears and arrows and clubs. But the emotion lingered.

“Maybe we should do something with the body,” Tristan meekly suggested, gazing upon the bloody fletchings that still protruded from Sione’s bloody remains. He died in his hated, beastly form—still mostly encased in stressed leather armor and a filthy grey kimono.

“Like what?” Vagar answered back, in a tone that scarcely concealed his disdain. “Sione died the moment he became the beast.” What remained was not the body of their fallen comrade; this was nothing more than a dead lycanthrope.

“We deal with Banipal first,” declared Jadearch, sensing the tension budding between the two wood elves. “Then maybe we come back here if we can.”

Both Vagar and Tristan nodded silently and the compromise was struck. Brodrath gripped his spellrod and called down the spirit of Paomoer to expertly heal Tristan’s wounds. Ailier lifted Sione’s still-burning torch. And once again reduced to five, the company marched on.

Moving carefully through the twisted tunnels, they soon came upon a set of iron door jambs framing the cavern walls, a thick wooden door between them. Proceeding through the door, the company’s pace slowed and their voices grew softer. “We’re in someone’s lair,” Jadearch observed. “Or some thing’s.”

Beyond the door the tunnel curved first to a lowered cold storage, its floor covered with blood and crates bearing dead animals and large hunks of meat in various stages of preparation. The tunnel then continued past a cool underground stream, and finally to a long, smooth corridor that split sharply to the left and right at the end.

Approaching the fork, the company noticed a flickering glow of yellow light from the leftward passage, and heard the low tones of a spiritual chant. To the right, however, a daunting curtain of brittle bones hung from the ceiling on countless strands of jute twine, tied with metal scraps and bangles. “An early warning system,” the dwarf Jadearch declared. And so it was.

And yet, even having turned back from the bone curtain, it would nevertheless seem the martenweres already knew the company had arrived. For just moments later, Vagar would peer around the corner of the left passage and see that all three of the martenweres they pursued stood ready, as if awaiting the party’s arrival. “We cannot mask our scent,” Sione had warned. “Be on your guard.”

Though the party members’ scents may have alerted the martenweres to the company’s approach, the beastmen luckily had not spotted Vagar as he quickly reconnoitered the final corner of the left passage. Dashing back to the relative safety of the tunnel, he delivered his report.

The glow the company had seen was the residual light of candles, burning atop several tall candle stands scattered around a vaulted, mostly-square compartment. The far end of the chamber looked elevated, with a few more candle stands illuminating a crude altar to some snake god. Two martenweres held bladed weapons and kept to the lower level. They looked just like those you’d previously encountered—not much over five feet in height, and with beastly heads and fangs. On the raised platform behind them stood a third creature, taller and more human in his bearing. He wore green and gold religious vestments and held a gleaming metal rod. There could be no doubt, this was Banipal.

Adventure Notes

Magical script.  From time-to-time, adventurers may come upon various magical writings such as magic scrolls, spellbooks, magical inscriptions, and so on. An intelligence check will generally be necessary for a character to successfully read these materials—and even if successful, may sometimes only enable the character to discern the overall purpose or function of an inscription. For example, a character might be able to determine that a scroll contains the spell knock, but not be able to read the scroll well enough to actually cast the spell or copy it into a spellbook. Or a character may be able to discern that a magical inscription above a door bears the password to open that door—yet fail to decipher that password. Note the spell read magic will greatly enhance a caster’s ability to comprehend magical script, especially at advanced experience levels.

 Weremarten. Sione Bari’s grueling transformation from human to beast was dreadful and traumatic, and what the party will most remember is surely the horror and anguish of the moment. But there were lessons too. Sione, being in his original state human, retained a generally human bearing even in beastly form. His appearance, as well as that of Banipal, were markedly different from the others—the martenweres, which seemed distinctly the opposite. It seems the curse of lycanthropy works in both directions then: shifting giant martens into a degraded humanoid form (martenweres), just as it morphs natural persons into degraded animal forms (weremartens).

Inspiration points. Several PCs have accumulated inspiration points to date. However, the DM cannot recall any character having actually expended an inspiration point yet in the campaign. This may be the DM’s fault, as it appears inspiration points were omitted from the rules set. This will be added in time, but the key principles are as follows:

•  A player may spend an inspiration point to add (or subtract, in a roll-under situation) d4 to any roll that player’s character makes. Most commonly this will be a d20 roll, such as a skill check, attack roll, or saving throw. But inspiration points can also be used to boost damage inflicted by a melee attack, amplify the benefits of a healing spell, etc.

• The player must declare the use of the inspiration point prior to making the roll it will enhance.

• Players are especially encouraged to narrate their actions when drawing upon inspiration points (i.e., “I attack the zombie with my sword using inspiration” is fine; “I channel the rage of my forebears and with great inspiration bury the point of my steel deep within the zombie’s putrid flesh!” is much appreciated by all).

Players who acquire inspiration points are encouraged to use them. As a general principal, the more unused inspiration points an adventuring company has collectively accumulated, the more difficult that party will find it to gain further inspiration points.

 Experience & Inspiration

• Spread among the refuse pit, the company found a good deal of coins and an arcane scroll containing affect normal fires. 200 XP.

• The company entered a den of 20 bloodmartens and successfully defeated them in battle. 400 XP.

• Sione Bari involuntarily transformed into a weremarten before the party’s eyes, and launched into an immediate berserker rage. Though Sione channeled his fury at the company’s bloodmarten foes, the situation presented a difficult dilemma. Sione had proven a friend—but what he might do after he finished with the bloodmartens was unknown. Sione could pose a serious danger, were he to turn his wrath upon the party. And there was no apparent cure for his affliction; even if Sione did not attack the company now, he could no longer be trusted and would pose a risk to the party throughout the remainder of this adventure and potentially to the nearby farmers and travelers long thereafter. The decision was tragic, but clear. The company is awarded 750 XP.

• The company located and explored much of Banipal’s lair in this session, eventually reaching and successfully casing the weremarten’s shrine to Salomirak. 175 XP.

• Vagar is additionally awarded an inspiration point, both for his lack of hesitation in the Sione Bari affair as well as well as his bravery in the reconnaissance

Session 9 totals: 1,525 XP

The total 1,525 XP award from the session will be divided into nine shares, which comes out to 169.444 XP per share. This will be rounded up to 170 XP per share. The shares are then distributed as follows:

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

Accordingly, Jadearch, Tristan, Vagar, and Brodrath each gain 340 XP for this session. Ailier gains 170 XP. Vagar is also awarded one inspiration point.

Session 8 Recap & Experience Points Awards

 

“Well you can just call me Vuzu,” the foul-mouthed smoke mephit announced, its voice softened a tad from the first sips of Jadearch’s whiskey. “Of course that’s not my real name.”

This meager sign of goodwill was not unwelcome. But the weary adventuring troupe had not returned to the mephit’s abode in hopes of learning its name. “We were actually hoping to inquire about the glitter shade,” the enchanter Tristan Pureheart replied. “Can you tell us anything about that?”

“The glitter shade?” the mephit replied. “Is that one of those invisible beings that flings things around the room?”

“Close,” the enchanter responded. “In the same cave.” Tristan proceeded to relate a description of the glitter shade, but the mephit denied knowledge of the being—stating only that the mage who formerly resided herein was responsible for the poltergeists. The precise nature of the glitter shade, and its origins, would remain a mystery.

Bidding farewell to the increasingly intoxicated mephit, the company stepped outside the ruined house stone house and canvassed the remainder of the domed cavern it occupied. Several puddles of green acidic liquid lingered along the edges, eating into the very rock itself and corroding the occasional cooking tin or hand tool that somehow made its way here from inside the mage’s abandoned house. There was nothing of value or particular interest, and after a quick glance into the giant lizards’ tunnels, the party chose to move on.

Climbing back to the surface of the Rock Marsh’s greatest island, the company found the sun dipping low on the horizon and felt the first pangs of exhaustion zinging through their bones. A rest was needed, and the nearby overlook promised a safe and defensible redoubt. The decision to ascend and make camp there was an easy one, and soon taken.

The evening passed uneventfully, and as dawn broke the reinvigorated adventuring crew readied themselves for a day of furious battle. The final martenewere cave lie dead ahead—where the company expected to find no fewer than three of the beasts, including its snake cultist leader, and a good number of the vicious giant mustelids they had previously battled on numerous occasions.

But first they had to cross the island, and this proved difficult as the poorly hewn path was choked with fauna. Each footfall seemed to sink incrementally deeper into the muck, and impassable, mangrove-like pickets of swamp trees began to wall the company in. Just when the ground finally seemed to solidify, a high tuft of bright green moss and musty old leaves blocked their way. Scampering over it, suddenly the martial artist Ailier Solenight sank deeply into the mound.

Only then did the company realize, this was no mere pile of leaves and soil. A giant maw revealed itself in the middle of the fust heap. It was alive!

And threatening to devour the martial artist whole. Luckily cleric Brodrath was quick to react, turning and grasping his comrade below the shoulders and yanking him forcefully to safety. Already, the monster’s rows of teeth and digestive fluids had shredded and dissolved much of Ailier’s clothing and claimed his pack and weapons. But he was alive, and relatively unscathed.

Its hearty breakfast denied, the strange being shifted and roared, and vented out a chartreuse noxious gas that drive the party members to retreat and scatter in multiple directions. But now the angry adventurers would unleash their fury.

Before the gas could spread far, the spellsword Vagar would raise his hands in the now-familiar fan pattern, touch his thumbs together, and call forth raging jets of flames from his fingertips. The ordinarily mild incantation struck with uncommon intensity this day. The burning hands not only consumed the spreading gas cloud above the fust heap but even ignited the dead leaves and vegetation atop the mound. Left to burn long enough, the fire alone might have destroyed the being. But the dwarven warrior Jadearch took no chance—thrusting his spear deeply into the fust heap and stilling the monster at last.

There was nothing to do now but continue on. The final black crag stood even closer now, and as the company finally drew near the familiar face of Sione Bari would emerge from behind a nearby thicket. “All the rest are inside,” he said, without so much as a greeting. “The cultist. The two others. And surely a good number of the giant weasels.”

Holding his silver-tipped spear like a walking stick, Bari pointed to a narrow hole that dove steeply into the ground, just at the base of the rock tower. “We can muffle our sounds,” he said. “But we cannot mask our scent. Be on your guard.” 

Bari produced a cloth-wrapped torch, deftly ignited it, and took the first step into the underground. The opening was irregular, with edges eroding and copious animal tracks leading both into the hole and out of it. Without a moment’s hesitation, the company followed Bari into the darkness below.

The company proceeded single-file along a narrow, steep passage. The sunlight slowly disappeared behind as the tunnel plunged deeper and deeper into the black earth, before finally leveling off and branching out in numerous directions. An old iron gate that once blocked one particular tunnel of those tunnels now lay derelict on the cavern floor—having apparently fallen or been knocked off its hinges. Naturally, the party opted to continue in that direction.

Before long, the company began hearing strange squeaks and chips before them, and the tight tunnel emptied into a large, jagged chamber where the party spotted a pair of digesting white, tentacled worms, which Sione called “carrion crawlers,” gnawing on some unidentifiable animal carcass. The two crawlers ignored the party as they walked past—but further in the darkness the party walked straight into a third crawler that immediately lunged at Tristan with its flailing tentacles.

The enchanter managed to dodge the first strike, but a second tentacle raked across the mage’s back. It produced a strange numbness. But luckily the crawler’s vile tentacle slid harmlessly off Tristan’s robe without delivering its paralyzing toxin. The party battled frantically, unleashing a volley of withering missile attacks that weakened the worm before Jadearch once again struck the killing blow with his spear. But it was not long before the previous two crawlers wandered over to the area, forcing the party to resume the battle. This time, fortune would not smile so favorably upon them.

As the battle began, the dwarven cleric Brodrath charged the first of the crawlers and smashed it with his runed cudgel while Vagar loosed arrows at the other. The cleric’s strike hit home—but the damage was slight. The wound served only to anger the beast, which lanced back at Brodrath with the first of its tentacles and dropped the dwarf, helplessly paralyzed, to the ground. The crawler then continued its rampage, charging Jadearch and forcing him to parry multiple successive attacks.

Meanwhile the other remaining crawler flung its own tentacles at the enchanter, Tristan, and the martial artist, Ailier Solenight—stinging and paralyzing them both. With half their comrades already defenseless and incapacitated and still both angry crawlers bearing down, the stakes could not be higher for the party members still standing.

But Vigar’s arrow struck true. And final worm’s tentacles flailed wildly just as Jadearch arrived from behind and plunged his spear. The crawler’s body sizzled and gave a final shiver, and the dark cavern fell silent once again.

Three of the party’s numbers remain motionless on the floor, having nearly become snacks for the foul worms. Yet already the numbness had begun receding, and there was no time to think about what might have been. All the company had nonetheless survived. And somewhere down in these filthy depths, the martenweres remained to be found.

Adventure Notes

Fust Heap. Long have you heard tell of the terrible “shamblers,” dismal swamp beasts constituted of rotting plants and organic matter, impervious to many forms of attack, that lie in ambush for travelers. Luckily the variant you encountered, the fust heap, was far less fearsome than you might have expected. It offered no resistance to Vagar’s flames or Jadearch’s spear, and ultimately proved more a nuisance than a genuine threat.  

Carrion Crawler (lesser). The carrion crawler is a hideous subterranean scavenger that paralyzes prey with its poisonous tentacles, before fiercely devouring it. Thick scales cover its long body, though leaving many gaps and articulations (AC 7)—while a tough shell protects its head (AC 3). Though crawlers in more nutrient-rich environments have reportedly grown to lengths well over nine feet and strike with as many as eight tentacles, luckily this lesser variant was not longer than six feet and carried only four tentacles each. These crawlers’ paralysis wore off after just 5-8 rounds as well—much shorter than the larger varieties are able to inflict.

Safe rest. Though safe resting spots are uncommon in the wilderness, the company was able to complete a safe rest atop the Rock Marsh’s tall central crag. Even in a chaotic and dangerous location, a long rest will restore 2d4 HP per level (plus constitution modifier) and a character’s spell slots. But a safe rest (which generally requires “a safe, tranquil, and comfortable environment”) restores 100% of hit points and enables spellcasters to adjust their active repertoires. [See pg. 83 of the rules & technical manual, version 1.5, for more details].

 Experience & Inspiration

·        The company defeated the fust heap (175 XP) and three lesser carrion crawlers (270 XP each) in battle this session. 985 XP total.

·        The company continued its exploration of the Rock Marsh, locating the second exit from the Lizard Cave (25 XP), then reaching and entering the final Rock Marsh cavern (75 XP). 100 XP total.

·        The company learned from Vuzu the smoke mephit that the mage who formerly occupied the ruined house was “responsible for” the poltergeists in the Cave of Horrors. 35 XP.

·        The company wisely elected not to enter the lair of the acid-breathing giant lizards, which portended great peril and promised little if any reward. Though no XP can be awarded for this decision, the dwarf Jadearch and the spellsword Vagar are each granted one inspiration point for channeling the great tradition of classic tabletop RPGs.

Session 7 totals: 1,125 XP

The total 1,125 XP award from the session will be divided into eight shares of 141 XP each. The shares are distributed as follows:

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

Accordingly, Jadearch, Tristan Pureheart, and Vagar each gain 282 XP for this session. Brodrath and Ailier Solenight each gain 141 XP.  Jadearch and Vagar also each gain one inspiration point.

Note: though the party did receive assistance on some of these tasks from an NPC (Sione Bari), the degree of assistance was not sufficient in this case to warrant an additional share of the XP award.