Session 11 Recap & Experience Points Awards

 

There was never any doubt the confrontation with Banipal would end in violence, or that the fight would be a difficult one. But with the battle concluded and the weremarten’s halls now silent, the remaining party members confronted the harsh reality of Brodrath’s death. The cleric had been a loyal companion and a fierce ally, and each of member knew full well the finger of death might just as easily have pointed to them, had fortune spun differently that day.  But it did not, and already the guilt of survival ebbed into thoughts of what comes next.

“We can’t just leave him here,” said the elven enchanter Tristan Pureheart, seemingly already to recognize the futility of the suggestion. “He deserves a proper burial.”

But to drag the dwarven cleric’s lifeless body through the narrow, twisting halls of the lycanthrope’s cave hardly seemed practical—if even possible. A long, steep slope preceded the exit, and there were dangers along the way.

“We don’t have a choice,” fellow wood elf Vagar responded. “He fought bravely and deserves to be honored. But we cannot carry him out. Even if we could, we are in no condition to do so right now.”

The latter elf’s ultimate point could not be denied. Numerous party members nursed wounds of their own. And the party’s precious magic resources were substantially exhausted. A chance encounter now with any hostile being could well see more of their number joining Brodrath among the fallen.

“We could come back, then,” the enchanter protested. But Vagar merely shook his head.

“We will cover him with rocks,” the dwarven warrior Jadearch declared, seeming to resolve the impasse. “And bury him with a weapon.” Whether such a conveniently improvisational rite was truly a sanctioned method of burial among the Albernear dwarves, as Jadearch intimated, the enchanter surely had his doubts. But it was surely much safer than any alternative, and anyway appeared to be the best Brodrath was getting. So Tristan rolled up his sleeves and joined his companions in gathering stones and rubble to enter their fallen comrade’s remains.

“He was a good dwarf, a trusted ally, and a good friend,” Jadearch announced, placing the cleric’s still-bloody Tri-Bolt of Paomoer down on the rock pile. “May he long be remembered.”

“Ay!” chanted the elves in unison, the martial artist Ailier Solenight clanging the hilt of his borrowed dagger to his chest in emphasis. It was more a funeral than any of the company would have received had fortune swung just slightly the other way—the company all knew this. And further perils surely lie ahead. The simple ceremony this concluded, the four remaining members of the adventuring company lifted their backs and strode cautiously into the darkness. 

The path back to the surface was cold and empty. But it was not silent. The chirp and chatter of carrion crawlers echoed through the caverns, the sound intensifying as the party passed the den where the body of Sione Bari lay alongside myriad slain bloodmartens. But that danger was easily avoided, and moments later the party emerged once more into the daylight.

Even so, the Rock Marsh still teemed with horrors. And already the next fearsome adversary appeared to stalk them from the nearby thickets. Just as the company readied its weapons, however, the creature that leapt from the brush was not some hostile being—but Kaloo: the canine companion of the late Sione Bari.

Though visibly confused at the absence of his former master, Kaloo was friendly enough and eagerly followed the party after Vagar treated him to a few morsels of dried venison from his pack. The party returned to the central rock tower and made camp, with Kaloo serving as a helpful watchdog for the night.

When dawn broke, the company descended the rock tower and proceeded to the grave of Zarthan Tiga, the deceased cultist whose journal had been found on a shelf in Banipal’s quarters. Tiga’s records spoke of a weapon, called “Blackfang”, and Banipal’s own notes suggested the weapon had been interred with Tiga. Disturbing a grave is always dangerous business, but here the temptation was far too much to resist.

A pyramid of bleached white stones rested, carefully stacked atop a soft earthen mound. On lifting the first, a strong gust of wind swept suddenly across the Rock Swamp, rippling the water and shaking the trees. But the party continued its excavations regardless. Less than one full meter down they found it: Tiga’s bones, wrapped in his worm-eaten  robes, with a jeweled black sword pressed along his body and a deteriorating wooden scroll case as well.

On collecting their treasures, the company swiftly heaped dirt back over Tiga’s bones and replaced a few of the bleached rocks—then left the gravesite behind them. The next destination was a return to the cave where the mage Asorin Itall had once lived and where his mephit servant Vuzu remained. There they found the mephit in his usual, transactional mood: happy to share a nugget of his cryptic, questionably relevant knowledge for a generous pour of whiskey.

This time, Itall was even more the topic of conversation than he had been previously. Vuzu reiterated his deep disdain for the mage—but when the party expressed a seemingly sincere desire to seek out the man, the mephit’s tone grew more serious. “You would find Asorin Itall,” Vuzu questioned. “I do not expect that meeting would end well.” Even so, the seeming impossibility of the task did not prevent Vuzu from expressing his heartfelt desire that the company “stick him [Itall] a good one.”

Vuzu went on to confirm the company’s suspicions, or at least those of Tristan, that Itall had cursed the Rock Marsh after a hostile confrontation with artisans carving the sculpture of the sentinel Aisul Awar, and it was around this time that Itall departed from the place. Vuzu also disclosed that the jeweled medallion Itall wears is no mere accessory, but an enchanted article of some potency called “Vosson’s Medallion”—though where he got it from, or exactly what powers the medallion carries, Vuzu did not seem to know.

“Did Itall summon you?” the party finally asked. “Are you trapped here?”

“No,” the mephit answered. “I am not trapped here. I was … ‘given’ to Itall. That is to say, ‘given’ as a gift would be given.”

Before leaving the mage’s house, the party passed through Itall’s abandoned bed chamber to gaze upon his portrait one final time. “Does the gem in the medallion resemble the one in the black sword?” Vagar asked.

“I can’t tell,” Jadearch replied, gazing upon the filthy, deteriorating painting.

“it’s not,” Tristan firmly added. “The jewel in the sword is a topaz. The medallion has an amethyst.”

Satisfied with this explanation, the company climbed back through the broken window frames and headed for the main cavern and the stairs to the surface. But they soon found their path was blocked by one of the daunting giant lizards that made its home in this cave. The hungry beast attacked without hesitation, spewing a torrent of caustic fluid that stung multiple party members. But the tables soon turned, and the reptile proved no match for the focused might of the company’s points and blades.

The giant lizard defeated, the company proceeded back to the surface and huddled to decide their next move. The decision was taken to begin a long march back out of the Rock Marsh, though with two minor detours along the way. The first was a return to the Cave of Horrors, where the party once again pondered the mysterious Glitter Shade but remained mystified by the lethargic, convoluted mass. Then, the company revisited the cavern where they’d found a mysterious pink vapor venting from below, and nursed their acid burns in the restorative mist.

Turning finally to the southeast, the company at last trudged toward the trailhead from which they’d accessed the Rock Marsh. But as they approached, an unexpected fullness darkened the brush before them. Shadows and forms ambled from all sides—pale green and bloated, bodies covered in torn, muddy rags. Some limped, some festered from black purple wounds, all reeked of ire, contagion, and death. There could be no doubt these were the restless souls Banipal referenced in his sermon. But any consideration the party’s victory over the lycanthropes might have obtained was lost on the mindless walkers that steadily closed in with empty, hateful eyes. So the company drew its weapons and readied their magic.

Vagar loosed an arrow and wounded one of the beings. Tristan invoked a color spray spell that knocked two more down. But the zombies numbered seven and moved with a deceptive quickness. They struck with terrible rending claws, wounding several members of the party and dropping Tristan to the ground in stunned bewilderment.

Now the loss of Brodrath was felt most acutely. With no cleric to heal the party’s wounded or drive zombies away through a divine connection, the peril swiftly mounted. Another zombie tore its claw across Tristan’s motionless body, and then another—the flurry of strikes bringing the enchanter’s life into mortal danger. But at last, the crisis was averted.

The runes inscribed on the wooden cudgel shone the same bright blue in the presence of these undead as those in Banipal’s lair. Now in the hands of Ailier Solenight, the martial artist slammed the weapon squarely into one zombie and fully annihilated it, then did the same to another. To Ailier’s right, the dwarf Jadearch tested the jeweled black blade from Tiga’s grave, finding it more than suitable to hack down zombie after zombie. And from the rear, Vagar continued to pour arrows and magic missiles into the onslaught.

Before long, the last of the zombies had fallen. Their unnatural toxin wore off the enchanter, and the path out of the Rock Marsh stood finally open. From there, a few uneventful hours of walking brought the company to the outskirts of Larkingwood and the Mistwood Fields farm. Back on familiar ground, Kaloo ran ahead of the company to the isolated farmhouse, where the stolid yeoman deliberately emerged to hail his visitors.

Bari seemed already to have drawn sufficient clues from the arrival of his son’s hunting dog, without Sione along. But he clearly took comfort in the company’s report all the same. Vagar delivered the sad news. “Your son fought at our side,” he said. “Unfortunately he was not able to make it out. We lost two of our companions besides.”

”He would not have been able to resist the disease for long,” Savu answered, for the first time revealing his knowledge of Sione’s infection. “Soon he would taste the blood of men—if he had not already.”

Bari produced a reward of 300 gold pieces, a fine suit of brigandine, and a potion he said would “grant strength like that of a hill giant.” It was more than the company had expected—yet so had been the mission.

This mission would be the last for Ailier Solenight, who pocketed his share of the gold and bowed out of further adventure—choosing instead to remain at Mistwood Fields as a hired farm hand. But the martial artist was soon replaced, for also lodging at Bari’s residence that evening was the masked figure Rhukk, a warlock of Scaol. Rhukk dressed in fearsome warrior garb, but had come to these parts in search of adventure himself and proved eager to join and assist the party. 

He would need to wait one more day. As night fell over Mistwood Fields, Rhukk’s newfound companions sank into their deepest sleep in memory. At least most of them did, anyway.

Adventure Notes

Blackfang. Zarthan Tiga, a deceased cultist of Salomirak, perished in the Rock Marsh and was buried along with his cherished weapon—a black steel blade with a pink topaz set into the guard, and small arcane runes etched into the base of the blade. Whether Tiga or some previous owner named the sword “Blackfang”  is neither known nor particularly important to you. But through experimentation, you have discerned the weapon is a short sword +1.

Vosson’s Medallion. The smoke mephit Vuzu told you the ostentatious amulet his former overlord Asorin Itall wears is called “Vosson’s Medallion.” What powers the item possesses, where it came from, or who “Vosson” remain unknown.

Toxic Zombie. Though you had not previously encountered zombies in your travels, you have not heard from any who have of zombies being capable of stunning their adversaries. But these stank of death and decay and bore a strange toxin that left Tristan Pureheart nearly helpless on the ground after sustaining a wound.

Witches of Scaol. Even in a society where the sight of armed men in the dress of war is commonplace, Scaol’s adherents (who call themselves “witches” collectively, though most individuals are male and called “warlocks”) stand out for their garish weapons, terrifying masks, and other forms of extreme gaudery. Witches revel in the apprehension, avoidance, or outright fear their very appearance inspires in many who see them, a reaction only amplified in Sekara Valley where the name Scaol is most closely associated with the orcs and other fell races of the Great Desolation.

Experience & Inspiration

·       The party defeated seven toxic zombies and a grey lizard in battle this session, good for 1,105 XP.

·       The party recovered the sword Blackfang from Zarthan Tiga’s grave and learned its core properties. 350 XP. The party also learned the properties of the runed cudgel they had previously obtained. 175 XP.

 ·       The company befriended Sione Bari’s dog Kaloo. The dog accompanied the party when it returned to Mistwood Fields and reported the events of their journey to Savu Bari. Kaloo’s presence established critical trust and confidence with Savu Bari, as did the party’s true and accurate report of Sione Bari’s end. 1,000 XP.

 ·       The company discovered the incomplete stonework and Awar crest on the carving of Aisul Awar. 50 XP. 

 ·       The company also learned from Vuzu the smoke mephit additional information about Asorin Itall and past events in the Rock Marsh. 50 XP.

 ·       The warlock Rhukk joined the party late in the session, replacing Ailier Solenight, and healed wounded party members. This item will be treated separately below.

Session 11 total: 2,730 XP

The total 2,730 XP award from the session will be divided into 4 shares, which comes out to 682.5 XP per share. This will be rounded up to 685 XP per share, and distributed evenly to Jadearch, Tristan Pureheart, Vagar, and Ailier Solenight.

In addition, Rhukk is awarded 50 XP for making an interesting first impression on the party with his mask, but nevertheless ingratiating himself to the members with his healing spells.

Final Session 11 XP awards:

• Jadearch: 685 XP
• Tristan Pureheart: 685 XP
• Vagar: 685 XP
• Ailier Solenight: 685 XP
• Rhukk: 50 XP

Scaol: update

 

 

To most in Sekara Valley, the war god Scaol is a ruthless figure associated with cold, hard metals, austerity—and enemies from beyond the northern rim. Scaol, who appears as an armored figure of an ambiguous but humanoid race, bearing a wavy sword and a stern, ominous visage, is known as a “war god” who many believe foments chaos and conflict. This reputation for divine belligerence owes much to the popularity of Scaol among past adversaries and threats to peace in the Valley—including the orcs, trogs, and other humanoid bands of the Great Desolation as well as the legendary Lono-Knollen raiders of the far north.

There are some, however, who take a different view of Scaol. To them, Scaol is not a god of “war” but rather of “defense” or, some even say, mere “preparedness.” The dangers of this world are many and only through both actual and perceived strength may peoples of good will survive and avoid domination and enslavement by outsiders of ill intent. Indeed, there are many in the Valley who warn that decades of relative peace has engendered a softness in the local population—a concern to which the stark, menacing imagery of Scaol speaks loudly. To them, the sharp spikes, black skulls, jagged edges, and harsh drum beats of Scoal project mercilessness and danger only to one’s enemies; the purpose is not to terrorize or provoke violence, but to deter aggression.

This more nuanced view of Scaol’s ethos is perhaps most succinctly summarized in the Plekkesh expression “beladren bidzko bakela,” which roughly translates in Low Sekaran to “peace through dread.” This is the actual reason why many orcish bands and other groups that commonly worship Scaol are often seen with the letters “BBB” on their shields, flags, and textiles—even though one might hear dozens of other supposed explanations on any given evening at a common Amberdale pub.

 Of the many symbols associated with Scaol, the best known is the plain iron X carried at the end of a rope or chain. There are no known temples to Scaol in Sekara Valley, though the deity is commonly honored through the devotion of shrines and other smaller facilities of worship on old battlefields and other sites associated with armed defense and righteous violence.  

Session 10 Recap & Experience Points Awards

 

Vagar had already caught a glimpse of the battleground. An array of candlestands illuminated a vaulted, roughly square compartment at least 90 feet deep. The far end of the chamber looked elevated and featured a crude, scrap wood altar to the snake god Salomirak. A row of makeshift pews crossed the room, just large stones with mismatched flat boards laid across. And three hairy lycanthropes—two beastly martenweres in the foreground, a more human-like weremarten on the raised dais— stood ready in the broad dome around corner.

There had been some hope one or more of the hostile creatures might be lured out of their chamber and into the jagged passageway where the five-strong adventuring company might overwhelm them. In the attempt, the enchanter Tristan Pureheart had dispatched a glowing humanoid form into the room by way of a dancing lights spell, while the elven spellsword Vagar followed with his own, simpler illusion of a warrior flashing at the threshold. But it was not to be. Sione Bari had warned the lycanthropes would likely pick up the company’s scent—and so they had. The purely visual illusions did not fool them, and now but one choice remained: to go in and face them.

Already the beasts’ deep howls had reverberated through halls, calling unknown numbers of bloodmartens to their aid. And even this wouldn’t be all; as soon as the party rounded the corner and surged into the cavern, an even more hideous foe appeared: zombie-like bloodmartens, called from the ground by the weremarten cultist Banipal.

Just the deathly beings bared their fangs and turned to face the company, however, the dwarven cleric Brodrath extended his tri-bolt wand in their direction. The dark runes of his cudgel suddenly glowed bright blue in the presence of the undead beings. But in place of the weapon, Brodrath called down the power of Paomoer to drive the zombie bloodmartens back. 

The turning of his vicious undead bloodmartens would soon prove the least of Banipal’s frustrations, however. Vagar, taking a position just behind the threshold of the chamber, paused just momentarily to draw on the inspiration of his ancestors—then unleashed a bow shot for the ages. The fletching of his arrow sung through the cool air, until the tip pierced violently into the serpent shaman’s shoulder and drew of shriek of anguished rage. A critical hit.

Already Banipal’s line was broken, and the weremarten badly wounded. But the beasts still had greater numbers, and furiously counterattacked. The weremarten Arhein led the charge, rushing to the front of Banipal’s forces and wounding the martial artist Ailier Solenight with a well-placed jab of his bladed spear (yari). A line of bloodmartens followed, crowding the entrance and slashing at the company with their razor-like claws. Even worse, Banipal then invoked some foul incantation, producing a trio of translucent rays that shot through the air toward each of the company’s front-line stalwarts. Ailier dodged. The dwarf Jadearch deflected the magic with his shield. But the cleric Brodrath was not so fortunate; he fell to the floor, immobilized by the weremarten’s spell.

With no other option to save his paralyzed colleague, Tristan stepped into the breach—whereupon he suddenly unleashed a gleaming fan of multicolored magic rays from his wizard’s staff. The blast blinded the two nearest bloodmartens, knocked another unconscious, and left the dangerous martenwere Arhein stunned on the floor. Ailier took swift advantage of the opening, running the beast through with his silver dagger before he could make any recovery. This prompted a disconsolate wail from the other martenwere, the one they called Delinda—who could only have been Arhein’s mate. But she could do nothing to save him. And even then a second masterful shot flew from Vagar’s bow, striking Banipal again in the torso and leaving him on the brink of mortality.

Once more the lycanthropes rallied. This time, Delinda led the charge, berserk with her rage. As her mate had done, Delinda too charged straight at Ailier Solenight and gashed him with her rusty blade. But Ailier soon returned the favor, delivering a wicked slash of his own. In her fury, Delinda never felt the blow. Neither did she mind the dwarf Jadearch, then engaged with a rabid bloodmarten just to Ailier’s left. She never saw it coming when Jadearch turned suddenly and thrust his spear deep into the unguarded side of her body. 

A third arrow from Vagar might then have ended the battle in short order. But this time, the shot flew wide and the weremarten cleric still stood. The company watched as Banipal invoked yet another spell, this one seeming to cover him in some kind of glittery aura of protection, before turning and heading for a narrow door in the southwest corner of the chamber.

With both martenweres having fallen and Banipal having fled, no lycanthropes remained to control the bloodmartens or martial them into any kind of organized force. Their line broke and the beasts scattered, leaving the company to mop them up safely from distance. But this would take several moments—critical time for Banipal to heal his wounds and regroup for the inevitable second round.

The flimsy door through which Banipal had fled opened into a narrow corridor, with a second similar portal at the opposite end. The company massed in the corridor and Jadearch kicked open the second door and burst through with Brodrath close behind. The two dwarves  found a jagged, mostly rectangular chamber, crudely furnished and illuminated with a blur of light on the high, domed ceiling. This was Banipal’s personal quarters, and he waited at the opposite end, greeting the party with an ultimatum. “Leave now and I will let you live.” Between him and the party stood four of the largest bloodmartens anyone had yet seen.

“He’s scared,” exclaimed Vagar, taking Banipal’s threat as a sign of weakness. He nocked an arrow and started to aim for the werebeast cleric. But something in the weave of reality would not permit this, and the spellsword involuntarily aimed his bow at one of the greater bloodmartens instead. Bewildered, Vagar reached into his quiver for the next projectile.

It was then that Brodrath suddenly fell. One of the great bloodmartens tore his razor claw across the cleric’s neck, before a second sunk deep into his torso. The power of the first strike was unexpected, and the second equally so—and the combined damage proved too much for even the stout dwarf to bear. Outnumbered once more and having exhausted their magical reserves, the outcome of the battle fell again into question. “This is your last chance,” Banipal warned. “Leave this place. Or die.”

Still the party continued undeterred. So sooner had Banipal uttered those words, then Jadearch’s might spear tore through a great bloodmarten, striking it dead in a single blow. With a  look of confusion, Banipal summoned a glowing hammer of force to his aid—the mystical weapon dancing in air as if wielded by an invisible warrior. But the hammer did not connect with any target, and the weremarten’s desperation only grew.

At that moment, the shimmering shield that covered Banipal seemed suddenly to dissipate, and Vagar took advantage. This time, the silvered arrow struck Banipal squarely in the forehead; the bone ceded to the force of the impact and the lycanthropic cultist finally fell dead. Moments later, a successful shot from the bow of Tristan would finish off the last of the giant bloodmartens and the caverns at last fell silent.

Now in the flickering candlelight, the company proceeded to gather what treasures they could find in Banipal’s sparse room and the lycanthropes’ remains. This amounted to just over 100 GP in coins, several pieces of jewelry, some books, a carved snake figurine, and a pair of potions. It was something; it wasn’t enough for all that the victory had cost.

The thought of a warm bed and a properly-cooked meal beckoned. But there was still work to be done, and stops to make along the way. The body of the party’s fallen cleric called for proper disposal—not to mention that of their former guide. A leather-bound diary on Banipal’s bookshelf told of weapon called “Blackfang” that was likely interred in a nearby grave. And back on the edge of town, the old warrior-turned-farmer Savu Bari had promised his own reward for the destruction of the lycanthrope threat. 

Adventure Notes

Animate Dead Animal. It is well-known throughout the realms that certain evil priests and even some arcane mages have the ability to raise skeletons, zombies, and potentially other forms of undead. Typically this magic is associated with the “animation”  of human, demi-human, or humanoid corpses and other remains. However Banipal appears to have known a spell to animate the corpses of bloodmartens.  

 Hold Person. Long have you feared the hold person spell, which can paralyze even the strongest warrior from a considerable distance. It is too much to say that pure luck saw you through the battle with Banipal. But the spell immobilized one party member—and only fortune kept the spell from immobilizing a second, or even a third.

 Sanctuary. The late Brodrath spoke once of sanctuary, an incantation of the time/space sphere that mystically causes foes to ignore a caster in the swirl of battle. The spell is broken by violence, but otherwise the gleaming cloak of sanctuary works like inattention blindness on one’s enemies. Brodrath had said even more powerful version of the spell exist, though he did not know the details.

 Spiritual Hammer. Banipal made his final attack with a hovering weapon of shimmering force. Ineffectual though it proved to be in this case, the “spiritual hammer” might have inflicted some serious damage had it managed to connect with its target.

 Laceweed. A recreational drug popular with youth in the Sekara lowlands, laceweed is an amphetamine—commonly ingested through smoke inhalation—that stimulates the central nervous system and tends to cause a short-term energy boost, heightened alertness, and exhilarating feelings of power, strength, energy, self-assertion, focus, pleasure, or peace. However the high wears off within hours, and is usually followed  by a crash associated with nausea, extreme fatigue, depression, paranoia, and violent urges. Laceweed is highly addictive and withdrawal symptoms are reportedly severe.

 Potion of Poison Resistance. Sometimes called “Liver of the Gods,” the potion of poison resistance is one of the few magic items common folk ever come across. Indeed there are some who question whether the concoction is truly magical at all, or simply a miracle of mundane medical science. Whatever its origins, this green liquid turbocharges the imbiber’s ability to process and neutralize toxins of any kind. For one hour after consumption, the imbiber has advantage on saving throws vs. poison, and any poisons that do affect the imbiber inflict 50% less damage over twice the expected duration.

 Ioke Mase. An authority on many things magical, the venerable elven sage Ioke Mase still lives in the Chalmwood. Given the proximity of the Cave of Horrors, it is not at all surprising that Banipal would seek out a copy of her tome,  Jubilex’s Garden: On Deadly Slimes and Jellies. Whether (or how much) of that work he might have been able to read, however, is anyone’s guess.

 Experience & Inspiration

·       The company attempted to lure the martenweres into the hallway with dancing lights and illusion cantrips. However the attempt was not successful, perhaps in part because the dancing lights were directed to enter the martenweres’ chamber and continue toward Banipal (rather than linger at the entrance or otherwise function as “bait.”). This hard lesson is noted by all. 30 XP.

 ·       The company defeated 12 standard bloodmartens (240 XP), four undead bloodmartens (120 XP), four greater bloodmartens (270 XP), the martenweres Arhein (185 XP) and Delinda (165 XP), and the weremarten Banipal (2,000 XP) in battle this session. Because these monsters were all faced simultaneously, and in Banipal’s lair, a 15% bonus is applied to the base total (2,980), resulting in 3,427 XP.

 ·       The company did not fall for any of Banipal’s ultimatums or attempts to stall or negotiate. 100 XP.

 ·       The company reached Banipal’s personal chamber and recovered the various treasures from his lair. 250 XP.

 ·       The company has completed its mission to rid Larkingwood of the martenwere threat. 2,500 XP.

Session 10 total: 6,307 XP

The total 6,307 XP award from the session will be divided into sixteen shares, which comes out to 394.19 XP per share. This will be rounded up to 400 XP per share. The first fifteen shares are then distributed as follows:

Jadearch (4 shares)

Tristan Pureheart (4 shares)

Vagar (4 shares)

Ailier Solenight (3 shares)

Accordingly, Jadearch, Tristan, and Vagar each gain 1,600 XP from the session. Ailier gains 1,200 XP.

At the option of Ailier’s (and formerly Brodrath)’s player, the final share (400 XP) may go to Ailier or to a new character to be created.