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History: Wynn's Journal
Bard of the Ellenean Peninsula
Contents
The Anvil Hearts
I first arrived in Floating City on the 12th day of the last moon in the Year of the Frog. In debt to the Clan Corrigan of the Red Hills who rescued me after the unfortunate loss of my ship and cargo, I was sent to replace one of their own on a life pledge. I found Bralin Stoneminder in an underwater grotto where he and his fellow adventurers had just fought a skirmish with a group called the ‘Anvil Hearts’. There were at least three of the ‘Hearts’ dead on the shore and two more had escaped and swum past me on my way down to the cave. If I had known then, what I know now, I would have killed them both.
Apparently the Hearts were sent by their leader Jonas to collect a particular species of plant with a white flower that some in our group believe is used to make a powerful poison. The flowers had been showing up in the lower levels of the city for some time. We interrupted their mission and for this they would extract a costly payment. Our own mission I did not know. Florin, a Paladin of Domi and leader of this group had agreed to release the remaining ‘Hearts’ on promise of good behavior, a promise they would fail to keep.
After releasing Bralin to return to the Red Hills, I took his place and followed Florin, Syr, Xenia, Angus, Tionel and Lang through a tunnel that led up to a spiral staircase formed in some magical way inside the trunk of a large tree. It opened onto a raised platform within the canopy of the forest, a temple of sorts, where Tionel was to retrieve a special wooden bowl for the druids of the Alder Circle. We were attacked by some kind of guardian creature, barely visible through some trick of camouflage, which dodged our arrows as if they had been thrown by hand. Only Tionel seemed unaffected by its magic and sank arrow after arrow into its hide. In the end it was Florin who tackled the creature and fell with it to the forest floor. The creature must have broken Florin’s fall and did not survive. A terrible sense of guilt overcame me upon its death, as if we had done great harm. I hope it is not so.
Our return to Floating City was uneventful, although I am not sure I will ever get used to breathing water. Whether by my own vanity or by her eyes, I believe that Xenia, an exotic half-elf with dark skin and golden-red hair has taken a certain interest in me. I cannot say that I mind.
It was not until we reached the docks that we received our first warning that all was not right and that Florin’s generous parole of the ‘Hearts’ had been repaid with blood. Syr may have noticed the column of smoke first, but all of my fellow travelers reacted as one. Upon landfall, they raced up the smoke filled streets towards what I would later discover was an orphanage that they sponsored. Mama Faust’s orphanage was beyond saving and charred, lifeless bodies lay in neat lines upon the street. I did my best to provide aid to the injured while the others discovered the true nature of revenge as exacted by the Anvil Hearts. This was the beginning of dark days for our small party.
Over the next several days Florin and the others grew quiet and moody as they brooded over the loss of the orphanage and those that had perished. There was much talk of revenge and the need to exterminate the Anvil Hearts. Florin spent long hours alone and began to color his armor a dull black. Syr and Angus hunted the lower levels for sign of the Anvil Hearts. The depression deepened with each passing day and arguments between members of the group erupted as the day of the funeral approached and our progress towards finding the culprits was stymied at every turn. Florin continues to blame himself for the loss of the orphanage and seems determined to exact revenge or die. The only positive note is my growing conviction that Xenia has indeed taken a liking to me, and I to her.
Today we planned a visit to the trash level in search of the Anvil Hearts. I went ahead disguised as an old man, long ago taken by the bottle. It was a brilliant disguise accompanied by some fine acting, although I may be accused of being too kind a critic. I hacked and coughed and scratched my way into obscurity as just another unfortunate, and managed to follow a band of heavily armed thugs from the bar to where an ambush had been laid for the rest of my friends.
My own part in the ensuing battle was minor. Syr, it turns out, is an incredibly agile elf who can not only withstand great punishment, but can also deal it back with flurries of blows from his feet and fists. At times I could not make him out as he was surrounded by the enemy much as a queen bee by her swarm. Angus, small and frail as he appears, stood much taller than most this day and bolts of energy flew from his hands to cut down the odds. It was Tionel though, who turned the tide. From nowhere he summoned the beasts of the wild and sent the Anvil Hearts and their lackeys running. Despite our victory, Specialty Johnson, the second in command of the Hearts managed to escape with many of her mob.
The funeral for Mama Faust and the children lost in the blaze was today. A large procession made its way up the road accompanied by the steady slow beat of a funeral drum. Angus played a fine song on his flute and city officials and clerics from the temple said many kind words about Mama Faust. A new home for the orphanage on the merchant level was announced and a new benefactor stepped forward to provide for the children. Despite the good news a pall continued to hang over the party. Perhaps because I did not know Mama Faust or any of the dead and might maintain my composure, I was asked to speak for the group. I hope they found my few meager words comforting. I was reminded of an old, folk song from my own home and Angus accompanied me as I sang. I will repeat a few verses here.
While we all sup sorrow with the poor;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh Hard times come again no more.
Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard Times, hard times, come again no more
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;
Oh hard times come again no more.
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,
There are frail forms fainting at the door;
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say
Oh hard times come again no more.
There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away,
With a worn heart whose better days are o'er:
Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day,
Oh hard times come again no more.
Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave,
Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
No sooner had the funeral ended when a number of Hearts arrived to taunt us and turn the assembled people against us, but we held our ground.
Florin continues to behave strangely. He has sought permission to adopt a child from the orphanage and pursues expensive lodgings for himself, the child and assorted bodyguards and tutors. He cannot possibly afford any of this. We have tried to talk some sense into him but he will not listen. He has also agreed to a parley with Jonas, the head of the Anvil Hearts. We are to meet at the lock, a secluded place down on the trash level, on Heart’s turf. Not the place I would have chosen, but we are committed and will scout out the area in advance for our own security.
The meeting with Jonas was today and it did not go well. Angus, Syr and I selected a lofty perch in the upper floor of an abandoned building from which to keep watch over the courtyard. Tionel stayed hidden in the shadows while Xenia and Lang stayed downstairs. It was not long before Jonas sprung his trap. A squad of mercenaries wearing a tiger emblem marched into the courtyard and overpowered Florin. I jumped from the window and made for the courtyard but was intercepted by Specialty Johnson and her remaining Anvil Hearts. A loud explosion rocked the upper floor from where I had just departed, and the sounds of combat followed soon thereafter. Before I could enter the courtyard I was felled by a crossbow bolt and could only watch as my lifeblood spilled into the cobblestones. Xenia was like a lioness, standing over me and forcing back the Hearts. Then by some magic unknown to me, I was surrounded by a healing aura. A strange dwarf who I later came to know as Braxton, a cleric of Domi, came to Florin’s assistance, and Tionel again summoned forth wild beasts to our aid. The tide was turned and we managed to force the Heart’s retreat, just in time for the city guard to arrive and arrest us all. We will know our fate in the morning. As I write these words, Xenia sleeps beside me while Angus trades barbs with the remaining Hearts in the cell opposite. Things could be worse.
The City Guard and Magistrate have believed our story and we have been released. Braxton has agreed to join our group. He is different than any of the dwarves I have met previously. He continually mocks himself and declares himself a coward, yet he stood firm with us against the Hearts. Perhaps all dwarves are not as arrogant as I had presumed.
Florin has selected a name for our group after much discussion over the last week. We are to be the “Crimson Shields of Hope” and we each have a handsome ring bearing an engraved dove on a crimson shield-shaped stone to bear witness to our friendship. Florin presented us with our rings at the Giggling Ghost during a birthday celebration for Daphne, the Inn’s owner. While there is much to rejoice I cannot find sufficient enthusiasm. Untroubled by women in the past, I find myself over my head with Xenia. She is at times quiet and demure, and then in an instant ablaze with intensity. I have never met such a girl. Part drow, part human, she vexes me. I have bedded her this night and have never felt closer to a woman, yet something tells me that all paths from here will lead through stormy waters.
The Crying Woods
Wonders never cease! Xenia, Syr and I were called to the Giggling Ghost in the small hours of the morning to discover a scene so horrible as to scar one’s mind for eternity. It must have been worse for Florin and the others who actually witnessed the explosion. A group of adventurers recently returned from the Crying Woods, had apparently gone mad and attacked each other. During the melee a bag of holding was ruptured and caused a violent explosion of cold that killed the entire group. Sadly, the explosion had killed Fiddle and Faddle, two females we had come to know the evening before. Fiddle lay naked on the ground before me, her body and the whites of her eyes tinged with green. Faddle’s body was flash frozen by the explosion and then shattered into unrecognizable shards of frozen tissue. Florin does a good job of hiding the depth of his pain but I know he had found a kindred soul in Faddle.
Worried by the possibility that we might all be infected, a healer of Alemi was called in to determine what had caused such an infliction. The local healer thought it to be some form of plant life unknowingly carried in from the Crying Woods, perhaps on the large gold rock that the party had so jealously guarded and was likely destroyed in the explosion. I am relieved to discover that we are all free of disease, although Xenia has discovered that she has been cursed and we must visit the temple in the morning to have it removed.
Xenia and Angus have both been freed from whatever cursed them by the clerics of the Temple of Alemi and normally I would be glad, but at Florin’s request we have visited his parents on the Gold Level and never have I seen a family so conflicted. I fear that Florin’s ward will be ill served by the arrangement her adopted father has devised, but I have not the heart to discuss this with the paladin. His view on these matters is obscured by events from his own childhood.
Tarketh of the Alder Circle paid us a visit and informed us that his colleagues had deciphered the magic of the bowl we recovered from the Crying Woods. We have been asked to confirm that the circle has indeed been successful in destroying the poisonous flowers that have become established in the trash level, and we have agreed to survey the area for signs of their demise. Braxton, has for reasons unexplained, declined to join us. Truth be told, the Trash Level holds little interest for me either. We have heard of a Lost City of Gold that exists somewhere in the Crying Woods and of a settlement in the woods destroyed by bugs. The lure of this ‘Lost City’ pulls at me in ways I cannot explain.
It appears the Crying Woods beckon us. Our visit to the Trash Level quickly confirmed that the magic of the Alder Circle had indeed destroyed the poisonous flowers that had naturalized in the area, but the strange hold of the plants on Floating City continues. A score of men, recently returned from the failed settlement of Perimon was inflicted by the same plant-borne disease as the adventurers in the Giggling Ghost. Consumed by rage, they began attacking and killing anyone they ran across including women and children of their own neighborhoods. We, the Crimson Shields of Hope, interceded and were forced to fight a bloody battle against them.
A part of me can’t help but wonder if the removal of the wooden bowl from the temple was not the trigger for these events. Perhaps even the white flowers we believe to be so poisonous are some kind of antidote.
The Alder Circle has agreed to sponsor our expedition to the Crying Woods. The druids believe that the woods are ‘at war’ with us and wish us to gather information that may aid in the defense of Floating City. We plan to leave in the morning. We have been joined by a halfling Cleric named Belkior, from the temple of Alemi. It is early to tell just what to make of him, other than he seems a decent fellow with a prodigious appetite and a predilection to talking.
Our first foray into the Crying Woods in search of what is left of Perimon was as short as it was exciting. No sooner than we set our first foot into the forest and our senses were assailed by the distinct feeling of hostility. We pressed on regardless and soon discovered the ruins of the settlement’s blacksmith shop. The forest had already engulfed the rest of the settlement and the smithy was not far behind. As we approached we were attacked by creatures made entirely of plant material. They appeared as headless mounds of leaf litter with vines and roots protruding from the central body which acted as arms and legs. While they appeared slow, their appearance was deceiving, for I was laid unconscious by one and surely would have perished if not for the bravery of my comrades. In the end, Syr, Xenia, Angus and Florin cut the strange mounds into shreds while our new friend Belkior tended to my wounds.
A search of the smithy turned up a number of interesting artifacts including a magic battleaxe a magic ring and a magic gem. More importantly it turned up a journal, chronicling the plants repeated attacks on the settlement, and the behavior of a man named Humphrey, who exhibited the same mindless aggression we saw in those infected in Floating City. A jar marked with his name, containing a skull with a plant growing from it, speaks to his end. A second jar marked ‘native’ was found with an elven skull inside and coincides with a map showing the location of Perimon and the site where a ‘native’ was taken. I fervently hope this site is in some way connected to the gold encrusted rocks we also found, for it may lead us to the Lost City of Gold.
Concerned that Xenia and Lang might have been infected, we prepared to return to Floating City. It was at this time that the oppressive hostility of the Crying Woods was lifted as if Domi himself had pulled back a curtain and let the sun in. Whatever change took hold of the forest, it may have also dispelled the source of the disease for a second examination of Xenia and Lang revealed no trace of it.
Our return to Floating City was equally eventful. As if compelled, the fish fled the depths of the lake and hurled themselves into our small boat, nearly capsizing us. The water boiled with jumping fish, and we threw them back overboard as fast as we could. The druids seemed quite interested in this strange event, and although they revealed little, I believe this was not an isolated incident. Whatever it may foretell, it did provide a wonderful dinner.
Upon the advice of the Circle of the Alder, we ventured back to the Crying Woods in search of ‘native’ elves. Upon our return to the ruins of Perimon we discovered it to be almost completely reclaimed by the forest, an amazing feat for only one day! The hostility we felt on our first voyages to the Crying Woods remains absent. During the that evening we were all witness to a strange dream-like vision of an unusual alignment of heavenly bodies and the awakening of an ancient being who reset the balance of nature, turning the Wold green and freeing the elves from tyranny. During the dream it was as if I could hear all those of elven blood in my thoughts, as if we were connected in some way. It was an exhilarating experience that filled me with great hope. I know that not all the others shared my enthusiasm, but I remain confident that they will in time.
With nothing left to discover at the abandoned settlement we readied to head up river to where our crude map indicated we might find our quarry. Tionel has developed the ability to shape change and acts as a forward scout in the form of various woodland creatures. It can be disconcerting at times, for one never knows if the creature before you is truly what it seems, or if it is Tionel. We eventually stumbled upon the City of Elvenguard, a city in the trees that is the home of a race of forest elves. We were welcomed by Prionel, the leader of the city, and introduced to his daughter Prillana, a raven-haired elf of stunning beauty. Prionel told us a little of the Crying Woods and named it ‘Sabara’. I learned it to be a sentient forest like the Culverwood. Only later did we learn that ‘Sabara’ was actually Prionel’s wife, who had somehow become one with the forest and provided guidance to it, just as his daughter was also destined to merge with the forest in her time. I cannot fathom what it must be like to merge with an entire forest. I feel partly in awe of Prillana for the power and responsibility she is destined to hold, and also saddened for the freedom she must give up.
Prionel has informed us that he wishes an escort to the Floating City to attend a meeting of the elves scheduled for tomorrow at the Giggling Ghost. Florin has agreed to provide escort to both Prionel and his daughter. We leave in the morning.
Our return to Floating City was uneventful, in sharp contrast to the meeting of the elves and events that were to unfold later. We arrived at the docks and escorted the elderly elf and his daughter to the Giggling Ghost where a debate between the most learned elves was held. The sages, including Prionel, argued the merits of waking the sleeper revealed to us in the dream of the previous night versus leaving him at rest and solving the problems of the Wold on our own. Many of the elves and half-elves in the crowd seemed to favour the awakening as did I. However, strong arguments were made by both sides and many of our group left unsure of what to believe. Prionel seemed discouraged by the outcome, and perhaps a little tired.
On our way back to the docks we were intercepted by the city guard who arrested Prionel on orders from Lord Perimon. Unsure of what to do ourselves, Prionel agreed to surrender to the guards and asked that we escort Prillana back to the Crying Woods. We relinquished our charge to the city guard with considerable angst and returned Prillana to her people. Our return to Elvenguard went smoothly enough, if one were to discount the fisticuffs between Xenia and Prillana. Belkior, our plucky halfling cleric did his best to ease the tension by falling into the lake. I watched from the corner of my eye as he toppled over the edge and cannot help but wonder if his action was purposeful. If so, it is a credit to his bravery, for it did not appear that he could swim, and only Lang’s quick action saved him from drowning.
Our second arrival at Elvenguard was even more eventful than the first; for no sooner had we arrived than I heard the singing of thousands of elves in my mind. The elves of the Crying Woods also must have heard it, for they began to sing aloud and Syr, Tionel, Xenia and I joined in the singing. I have transcribed what I remember of the song here.
The wise wind soft to bless the Wold, and wreathe glade in healing song.
Sing righteous chorus. Ring out the wrong.
Tis time for choosing, reach out your hands. Tis time.
All brethren o'er through sylvan dream. Tis time
We come our voices, a course elect. Tis time
Sing chorus. Tis time
Once the song ended, the two moons of the Wold crossed in front of the sun in a celestial convergence, a loud sound rolled over us and the earth beneath our feet trembled. It was the most incredible feeling, being connected to all those other elves in song. However, the merriment of the song was not to last. During that same evening, the ghostly form of Sabara paid a visit to her daughter. Sabara spoke to us as a group. She told us that the Crying Woods were angered by the presence of Floating City and that we must move the city farther from the shore of the Lake.
We left the Crying Woods this morning to return to the city and report on what we have learned. The river currents seemed much stronger than previously and pushed us homeward with no incident although we did see some strange purple orcish creatures in the jungle. Nature remains strong following the awakening, for as we returned to the city we could not fail but notice the beautiful rose vines that had grown up along the walls, decorating it’s once plain façade with color. Apparently this was not the only manifestation of nature’s power, for at the council chambers a throng of citizens clamored about record sized vegetables, talking animals and a host of other oddities.
Our report to the council was well received by all accounts. I was accompanying Xenia elsewhere, but Tionel and the others informed us of events later in the evening. Belkior met with Janus, the priestess of Alemi and told her of our adventures. Alas, no immediate solution was found to Sabara’s warning to move the city. The Overlord must talk to the Underlord but this may not be possible for several days. Our request to see Prionel was denied and we were officiously told to return in a week when complaints from ‘commoners’ were heard. In the meantime we have been asked to investigate the sighting of the purple orcs and learn more about the Crying Woods.
Once again we returned to the Crying Woods and landed near the site where we observed the purple orcs. Much to my surprise, they turned out to not be orcs at all! Rather, they were some kind of a plant in humanoid form, spawned by carnivorous trees, and born in pods that hung from the branches. These ‘orclets’ as Xenia termed them, attacked us, meaning to feed us to their parent trees and we were sorely tested in defeating the first waves of them. The orclets are fast, and able to swarm and overpower much stronger creatures. Their claws seem enchanted, causing those they hit to fall into a deep sleep. If it wasn’t for the plucky mage, Angus, and his bolts of lightening and some quick action by Xenia and Tionel, we might well have been overcome. As it was, we were forced to flee when the trees doubled in size and those orclets we killed began to grow into trees themselves, as if they were seeds all along.
Our hasty return to Floating City revealed even more surprises. The rose vines that had seemed so decorative before, had become immense vines that now pulled at the top of the city and threatened to tip it over. A cloud of spores from the Crying Woods would have rained down upon the city had it not been for Tionel. Our urban druid summoned an air elemental of immense size to dispel the spores. Even Tionel was surprised by the incredible power that he had unleashed...I am no longer convinced that awakening the sleeper and enhancing nature’s power was the right thing to do.
Things have gone from bad to worse. No sooner had we reached the city than it tilted again under the unrelenting force of nature. Many were injured, some seriously. Florin’s apartment simply collapsed, killing Mort and seriously wounding his adopted daughter, Jella. The new orphanage also collapsed. Gordo, a longtime friend and former member of the shields gave his life by pulling down the building upon itself to protect the children from the onslaught of a throng of green-skinned men that must have been infected by the spores. Syr and Belkior proved themselves invaluable by organizing healing stations and looking after the more seriously injured, while Xenia led the rescue of the surviving children from the orphanage. We have brought all the children back to the Giggling Ghost which appears more solidly built than many of the other structures in the city. Finding the overlord and freeing Prionel will have to wait until tomorrow.
We awoke with a start this day. A scream from one of the children announced the presence of the same purple orclets and shambling mounds we fought in the Crying Woods. They were attacking the citizens of Floating City and carrying them off to feed the parent tree. I ran out into the streets to try and help, but only succeeded in drawing their attention to the Giggling Ghost. The ensuing battle was fierce and we only just prevailed. The mounds battered down our makeshift barriers and the orclets entered. Tionel was magnificent, summoning bears and lions to our aid while Angus blasted the creatures with magic. My own blade was wetted by the creatures many times as we fought in close quarters. Syr was overrun by the orclets and only some quick action by Belkior and Lang prevented him from being carried away. Distracted by his young charge, Jella, Florin contributed little to the initial battle. However, when the second wave of orclets arrived, he summoned his warhorse and charged madly about, lancing purple orclet after purple orclet.
The pitched battle that followed saw us divided as some protected the children upstairs while others fought to hold the bottom floor. The orclets climbed the outer walls and began throwing children out of the windows to their deaths. It was absolute chaos. Syr did his best to bring order to our efforts and Xenia kept the children from harm’s way as much as could be expected. She was like a tigress, protected her cubs from danger. The building tilted further making it impossible to get from place to place and without Belkior’s brave actions and healing powers and the swift summoning of hippogriffs by Tionel we would surely have lost the day. As it was, the price was dreadful. Several children killed, many, many injured, the inside of the Giggling Ghost a shambles, and Happy with a broken arm. For my part, I am sore and exhausted and feel I will sleep for a week before making a full recovery
Sleep would be a blessed thing but I am afraid to give myself to it, lest I wake to discover myself a monster. Following our battle with the orclets, another band of adventurers, the Children of Chaos arrived at the Ghost seeking sanctuary. We bade them enter and they brought with them a druidess named Roseanna and three of the Anvil Hearts including Jonas and Specialty Johnson. The Children of Chaos knew nothing of Jonas and the Anvil Hearts evil ways, nor did they know the druidess would be overcome and attack them from behind a wall of thorns. Only their own considerable prowess saved them, for we were nearly powerless before the druidess. Roseanna regained control of herself and fled our company, fearful that she might once again lose control and harm us further. However, before she left she granted us each an opportunity to wield a sacred artifact. If I knew what misery it would bring I would have destroyed it right there, for it has surely cursed our small band. The artifact struck us each with a beam of energy, and Florin and Lang were changed into an elf and a bugbear. Belkior and I have been horribly mutated. The halfling has grown the legs of a cat while I have sprouted gills and the base of my fingers has been joined by webs of skin. I fear that by morning I will have transformed into a hideous beast and be sentenced to live the remainder of my life hiding in some dark swamp.
and struck at me with blinding light.
I cried, but none could hear me,
as I suffered in my plight.
I dread the passing of this night,
the arrival of the morn.
Should I wake an elf no more,
Morning brought with it no relief to my condition, nor further changes to Belkior, Lang or Florin. At least it has not worsened. Xenia has shown great concern for me, but I worry that she will eventually see me for the horror I have become. The arrival of three nobles from the upper levels of the city brought little consolation. Although they knew of Roseanna and the ‘Knot of Druiss’ they seemed content that she still protected it. Lord Bael departed with the three Anvil Hearts in tow and promised to send a contingent of soldiers to assist us, while Lord Lorbius and the Lady Celine left with the Children of Chaos to pursue answers in the Trash Level. Our continued part in all of this is to protect the remaining orphans.
We have waited patiently for reinforcements, spending our time healing the children and looking after ourselves. Two guardsmen eventually found their way to the Giggling Ghost. They were sorely tested en route and most of their squad was killed by the orclets and mounds. They believe the plants were headed for the docks, perhaps their appetites finally sated. The merchant we rescued from the street believes we should make for the teleport gates and bring the children to Plateau City. Initial scouting trips by Syr, Xenia and Lang have shown the area around the Fence Level too difficult to move through with children in tow, but no sign of any of the plants. Florin and Syr have gone off to scout a route to the teleport gate and to look for supplies. Xenia, Belkior and Angus have begun organizing the children for the trek, but Tionel and I remain worried about their safety and our ability to protect a veritable moving buffet from whatever creatures may still lurk amongst the ruins of the city.
Concerned about their safety and, truth be told, somewhat tired of minding children, I went looking for Syr and Florin. Instead, I came upon Pek, a halfling, trapped beneath the rubble and soon to be eaten by a tiger. Florin and Syr had also closed on the tigers roars and between the three of us we were able to drive the tiger off and free the halfling from the beam that pinned him beneath the rubble. Pek was badly injured but still composed enough to ensure we also recovered his waterskins that contained a poison he developed to fight the vines that ensnared the city. We agreed to assist him in applying the liquid to the vines once we had moved the orphans through the teleportation gate to Plateau City. The trip to the gold level was fraught with difficulty. The rubble, debris, and tilted streets made the journey difficult for the children, but with Lang’s new strength and my ring of featherfall we were able to get them all to the teleportation gate.
The Gold Level was not spared the devastation of the Fence and other levels. Although the buildings seem more solid and less damaged, their denizens were not spared, and many are diseased and roam the streets in large numbers. We barely outran them and managed to get the children safely away through the gate, along with the merchant, the two guards and a woman we rescued from the orclets. Xenia led us through a back door and safely to the Open Level where we could access the vines.
Pek was right. His concoction has caused the vines to release their grip on the city. We simply squirted some on the vines near where they were anchored to the city walls and presto! They let go. The sudden release of tension caused the city to whip back and then forward again. If it had not been for Xenia’s seal of flying many of us would have been crushed by the buildings themselves as they rushed through the air. The violent release of the city caused many more buildings to crumble, but few people were left in the city and it now stands free in the water.
Although it should be a time for celebration, instead we find ourselves morning the loss of one of our party. Florin’s strange behaviour and at times questionable leadership has been challenged by Xenia, and when asked our opinions it became evident that it was time for a new leader. Embittered by our seeming lack of gratitude, Florin left the Shields and has gone to Plateau City to look after the orphans, and his daughter Jella in particular. He could not be persuaded to stay and has left behind his ring for Belkior. Tionel also has left our company to find another path to enlightenment.
Angus, the group’s mage has assumed the mantle of leadership and we have agreed that the release of Prionel and his return to the Crying Woods is our next endeavour, for it may yet calm the fury of the jungle and save many lives. The surviving citizens of Floating City have taken refuge from the destruction of the city on the beach near the abandoned settlement of Perimon. There they face the unbridled fury of the Crying Woods and even with the help of the ‘Platinum Dragons’, they are sorely tested.
The Plantation
Turbulence and upheaval continues to follow the Crimson Shields. Under the guidance of Belkior and Angus we have followed the children to Plateau City and have apparently abandoned Prionel and the citizens of Floating City to whatever fate awaits them. In the process we rescued a man and a woman from the rubble of a collapsed building. Against my wishes, Angus has invited them to join our small company. Famina, the female, is very capable and seems a good sort, but Ashalan is bent on revenge and his self-assumed role in delivering the final verdict to those who have done wrong. He carries the symbol of Jancassis and I cannot help but feel that I will eventually have to cross blades with him. Xenia is equally disturbed by the man and I worry that she may part ways with the Crimson Shields, a choice that is not open to me for I have given my pledge to the Clan Corregan.
We have discovered that the orphans have been provided temporary shelter in a warehouse run by the Von Ottens. The merchant we saved in Plateau City was a member of this powerful family although he travelled under a different name. They have offered us the use of an old run down plantation on the outskirts of the city should we wish to establish the orphanage there. We plan to visit the site tomorrow to determine the state of the plantation and its suitability for such a purpose. Despite what seems a promising start in this new city, all is not as it seems. The Von Ottens are a very powerful trading family who own many businesses and have apparently made enemies in the process for their representative, Ashbeard, was struck down on the street by a would-be assassin. He would surely be dead if we had not intervened. I am left to wonder how the Von Ottens became so powerful and to what extent we should tie our fate to them. Why, for example, must they travel incognito, and why would an assassin be sent for their representative?
The trip to the plantation was uneventful, but upon our arrival we discovered the body of a young woman lying just inside the plantations outer walls. She appeared to have been killed by a vampire. Clearly this Ashbeard had left out one or two details in his description of the ‘bad luck’ that had caused the plantation and its finances to flag. As we progressed towards the main buildings we were assailed by a host of undead. Ghouls and ghasts had prepared a number of pit traps for unfortunates such as us to fall in. We managed to overrun these foul creatures, killing several in the process.
With daylight waning, we decided to investigate a number of the outbuildings before withdrawing to a safe place for the night. Upon opening the barn door we were greeted by the sight of two corpses hanging from the rafters of one of the barns. To our surprise, they awoke and attacked us along with a number of their undead brethren. Belkior has since explained that they were the spawn of vampires. Slain by a vampire, they rise and do his bidding. Each time we slew one of these creatures it turned to mist and rose into the rafters. It was there that we discovered their coffins, where they lay, recuperating from their wounds. We opened all six coffins and dragged their foul inert bodies into the fading light where they caught fire and were turned to ash. Two of the coffins were empty and Belkior sprinkled Holy water in them, hoping to despoil them and prevent their future use.
Lang and Ashalan were of little use in the battle. Lang tried to block our access to the barn, and Ashalan stabbed Syr in an attempt to protect the spawn. Angus cast a disabling spell on both of them to prevent their further interference, and both seemed themselves at the end of the battle. Belkior explained that their minds were dominated by the spawn and that they should not be blamed, but I do not trust this servant of Jancissus and will continue to watch him closely.
Following our battle in the barn, we set up camp near a small stream that Belkior thought might provide some protection from the vampire we believed to inhabit the plantation. Our rest was interrupted by the baying of wolves as they encircled our small camp in the night. Their dreadful howls provided us ample time to ready ourselves and both Lang and I made good of our opportunity to strike from a distance with bow and arrow. Angus, our new leader, called forth a ray of fire that killed one of them, and Xenia lit up a small group with a fireball. Then they were amongst us, eyes red with bloodlust, snapping and growling. I managed to take out the eye of another with the arrow I held in my hand, and then Famina, Ashalan and Lang waded in, their swords flashing, and the wolves fell away at their fury. In all the confusion and noise, the vampire herself snuck into camp and tried to overpower Xenia, but she had obviously not seen the girl in action else she would have known just how difficult it would be to subdue her. Belkior and Syr came to Xenia’s assistance and between the three of them they drove the vile being away into the night.
Morning found us tired and edgy from our interrupted sleep. Angus and Belkior led us to the manor house itself where we knew we must face the evil within if we were to salvage this place for Mama Faust’s children. Belkior determined that the entrances to the manor had all been magically trapped by a powerful glyph. Lang and Ashalan braved the danger and hurled open the door. Lang managed to avoid injury but Ashalan was not so lucky. Inside the doors hung a shadowy gloom and both Lang and Ashalan were again targeted by spells from within. An ogre zombie appeared at the door and dropped Lang with his club.
It was clear to me that our only hope was to get into the house and close with the vampire and her ilk if we were to survive their magic. I squeezed through the door and managed to slice across the ogre’s hamstrings, only to find myself face to face with a troll skeleton and 3 skeletal wolves. A young girl, too frightened to speak, was held captive by the troll. Two vampire spawn appeared on the upper balcony and began casting spells and the troll released the girl and turned his attention to me. It was difficult to keep track of what happened next. I was too busy slashing away at the troll and wolves while trying to protect the girl to take in any details. I remembered seeing Famina stepping into Lang’s place. The half-orc was magnificent in her rage, her blade ripped through the undead ogre with powerful sweeping slashes. Belkior stood his ground near the front and alternated casting spells at the vampire spawn and healing those around him. Syr and a rejuvenated Lang came to my rescue and dispatched to troll skeleton while Belkior held the wolves at bay with his holy symbol. It was inspiring to see the small halfling standing so resolutely while three wolves, each twice his size cowered at the back of the lobby.
Just as quickly as it started, the battle for the entrance ended. I helped the girl outside while Angus led the rest of the shields upstairs to pursue the vampire and her spawn. To my surprise the girl revealed that she had friends in the house who were also held captive and she was able to point out the vampire’s lair in the west wing of the manor. The Shields pursued the vampire to her lair and engaged her in battle. I saw little of this battle being preoccupied with defending the main hallway from skeletal wolves and the two vampire spawn. Acccording to Syr, the vampire summoned a bearded devil to her side and along with several zombies managed to fight the Shields to a standstill in her gloomy retreat. Belkior and Angus traded spells with her while Famina and Lang engaged her minions. Xenia and I managed to join in for the final push, but most of the hard work had already been done and she finally fell to the combined force of the Crimson Shields of Hope.
Following the battle we secured the rest of the building, ensuring that no more undead occupied it’s halls. Xenia disarmed the rest of the traps, and we destroyed the coffins, buried the undead, and consecrated the ground to ensure they would not rise again. During the battle we managed to free the vampire’s prisoners and Ashalan accompanied them on their way home. I cannot say that I am sorry to see him go. His preoccupation with revenge did not sit well with me.
Our return to Plateau City was uneventful and in no time Xenia had struck a deal with Ashbeard that secured a future for the children back at the plantation. She has a marvellous head for business. Now I find myself once again beside her warm, firm body, not knowing what adventures will befall us next, but only that we will face them together.
The Lich King
We returned to the orphanage and cleaned the place up. The children were settled in with Kay and Buckle, the unlikely couple from Floating City. Ashbeard’s man, Steve has promised to look in on the place and is busy ensuring that the needed repairs are made. During the clean-up Xenia found a number of papers with a partial address in Plateau City, mention of some vendors in Floating City, and a green stone spider. It seemed clear to us at the time that we should follow up on these clues and ensure that whatever minions served the vampire were dealt with.
With that in mind, the Shields began their hunt for clues in Plateau City. Angus and Belkior were able to piece together some information about the strange symbol from the vampire’s lair through the library and it led us to a similar symbol used by a death cult in Plateau City. Thunir, Ashbeards cousin, told us of a small band of adventurer’s that made their home near Sampson’s in the Trade Quarter who were reported to have broken up a death cult in the city and might know something of the situation. We tracked them down to discover that Xenia knew one or two of them and we traded information. Our discussions confirmed that we should investigate a tenement building in the Nightmare Quarter.
Plans were quickly made to scout out the building in advance of any action, but like most well laid plans they are quickly overtaken by circumstance. We went in three waves, the first led by Xenia with Lang and the elf ‘Shadow’. I followed in disguise along with Conner, Syr and Thar. Finally the mages and clerics followed at a distance. Even though we tried to be discrete, as Belkior neared the Cathedral of Marteus he began to radiate a cool light, and the downtrodden and diseased sought him out for care. Once they arrived at the apartment block, Lang heard chanting coming from the basement of the building, and our notions of reconnaissance were forgotten.
The battle was short and brutal. Xenia, Syr and Conner, the tattooed fighter from the Plateau City band, were turned invisible and we hoped to position them before the assault, but Lang was too anxious and rushed in. The basement was full of clerics, worshippers, and undead, along with a nasty bugbear that we had seen earlier. It was crowded and Lang and the others had their hands full until the rest of us squeezed down the stairs. Edmund, a magiker from the Plateau City group cast a web across the basement to impede the cultists from escaping. It was a mixed blessing as it also impeded our own progress in encircling them. Lang, Kadaz, and Conner swept a path through the cultists and their zombies leaving a bloody trail for the rest of us to follow. Syr and Xenia remained invisible until the last minute and ambushed the cleric and stole the chalice while Belkior and Thar concentrated on the undead, forcing them away with divine power. I, for my own small part, kept the remaining cultists from attacking the magikers.
We managed to capture the chalice and a number of cultists and clerics, although a darker side of one of the Plateau City party became apparent as Arm continued killing cultists after they had been neutralized. Mira, the leader of their group believed him to be under the influence of some evil related to the chalice and managed to control him, but it was a sobering lesson to us all…just how near is the slope to madness.
We turned our captive over to the guard, sealed the tunnels from the sewers used by the cultists to gain entry to the basement, and brought the chalice and other recovered items including a diary of sorts back to the apartments.
It now appears that we will revisit Floating City and its surrounds. Careful interrogation of the captured cleric by Angus has revealed that the Lady Illiona, an unspecified number of clerics and cultists, and their undead followers have left for Floating City where they intend to steal some boats and cross the lake. Our subsequent investigations in Plateau City have also been most revealing. We learned the cultists to be a group inspired by Marteus to revive the former persona of Gargulus, a terrible god of death. They are referred to as ‘Red Cloaks’ for the colour of their vestements. Our queries at the Library and the Mages Guild have confirmed our suspicions and revealed the existence of a buried temple somewhere near Floating City. The temple was the former abode of a terrible elven lich who was defeated and killed, but whose phylactery was not destroyed. ‘Atmahlanto’ was entombed in the temple, which is guarded by creatures born from spiders and cursed to guard the tomb for eternity. Lady Illonia and the ‘Red Cloaks’ are determined to revive the lich and re-awaken Gargulus, a course of action we are determined to oppose.
Mira and a few others in the group have accompanied Arm to the temple of Alemi to discover the nature of his strange behaviour and to determine if the chalice has cursed him in some way. The clerics off Alemi could find nothing wrong, and we are left to wonder just what demons may exist in all of us. Perhaps there is a greater magic than even the clerics can detect.
We set off for Floating City in the morning. Famina has experienced some barbarian premonition that we cannot fathom and decided to remain behind. We will miss her considerable strength and prowess in battle, but she cannot be swayed.
On arriving in Floating City we immediately headed to the Giggling Ghost. The City is still in ruins, only those buildings thought to be Teucri in origin stand undamaged. Many are still missing and many are known dead, but the plants have not reinvaded and slowly life is returning to normal. The determination of it’s citizens will surely be tested as the city recovers.
Happy has made us comfortable in the Giggling Ghost and following a wonderful meal and a nights rest we have spread out across the city in search of clues about the Red Cloaks. The news is confusing. Happy reports that our quarry has been busy doing good deeds in the upper levels while other news suggests they have stolen boats and headed across the lake.
Thunir has agreed to take us in his boat, across the lake and to the location marked on the map contained within the diary we recovered from the captured cultists. We leave immediately and will navigate by the stars. We must make haste for our quarry lies several days ahead.
Thunir’s boat was not what any of us had expected. He drew it from his pocket and with a magic I am not familiar with, enlarged it twice until it became a vessel large enough for all of us. Not all took a liking to ship life, and despite my efforts to cheer them with song, almost half took to their bunks, the contents of their stomachs trailing in the wash behind us. At night, as we passed over the middle of the huge lake, our sleep was plagued by visions of giant serpents, writhing deep beneath the waves.
Our first sight of land was not until the third day, and then only a dark green smudge, low against the horizon. As we neared shore, we discovered the trees to be enormous, hundreds of feet high, and the large flying lizards that hunted the waters offshore were near as large as our small vessel. It made for an uncomfortable time as we crept along the coastline. Our first night ashore was spent on the beach, with ready access to our ship, just in case we were forced to flee. The following day we discovered the three boats stolen by the Cultists.
Lang followed the trail of the cultists into the forest and almost immediately into a scene so macabre it would chill the blood of even the most hardened adventurer. There were at least a dozen blood covered bodies laid out on the forest floor. A host of flies and other insects were already at work feeding on the spilled blood and carnage. We discovered no dead cultists, only huge spiders and brown-skinned elves, but those skilled in reading sign assured us that the red cloaks had carted off several of their own following battle. We continued following the trail through the jungle for several days whence we came upon a strange creature, half spider, half elf. Xenia knew him to be akin to a dryder.
We learned that this dryder and his bretheren had been cursed for their role in serving the evil corrupter, the Lich King we know as Atmahlanto. For generations, they have been cursed to walk the forest as dryders and to ensure that none wake the Lich King from his enforced sleep. The ‘guardian’ as he calls himself, led us through the forest and to the edge of a great plain called the Plain of Stones. Here he told us, the great city that had been built to honour Atmahlanto had been engulfed by nature and lay ruined beneath the grassy hills. He directed us to cross the plains early in the day before the heat aroused it’s inhabitants, huge lizards that hunted one another, and anything else that might cross their domain. Beyond the plain lay a conical hill, beneath which lay the tomb of Atmahlanto. It was here; on the Plain of Stones we met Bin Berry, a diminutive cleric. Half naked, he had escaped from the cultists and found his way to us. With his help, we crossed the plain unscathed and made our way towards the tomb. As we approached the tomb, the ruined city revealed more of itself and it’s history in the form of broken friezes engraved with dryders in battle and other scenes of war.
As our combined force approached the hill, we discovered eight zombies left to guard our quarry’s rear. They were disgusting creatures, so vile that some of our party were frozen in fear, and if that were not sufficient the cultists had also left two mummies at the entrance to block our way. We advanced upon them, some of us concealed in the grasses, others by magic. Although we did not spring our trap as successfully as we might have, Mira surprised us all by calling forth a magical wall of fire, immolating most of the zombies and at least one of the mummies. Only the lookout managed to escape our combined wrath, and he fled down the darkened tunnel leading deep beneath the hill. If it had not been for Belkior’s magic, the cultist would have surely warned his fellow conspirators of our approach. As it was, our catling cleric froze the lookout which allowed the several of us to disarm and bind him.
We took our time advancing down the tunnel. Xenia and the tattooed Conner took the lead and each was made invisible. The rest of us crept down the long tunnel waiting in the dark for a message from those in the lead, like so many wasps waiting to attack from our nest. When we did finally all pour out into the underground we were greeted by yet more mummies, even more powerful than the last. Only those of great conviction could withstand the mummies gaze. For my part, I slipped past the others and hid in the shadows, looking for any advantage in the fight to come. It proved to be a near fatal mistake as the first of the mummies felled me with a series of blows. Only Xenia’s self sacrifice stopped the foul beast from stealing my life as she dove in front of it.
The battle against the mummies was, for all I was told, a hard won fight. I lay unconscious and near death for most of it, but was revived for the final overture. Lang, Thar and Conner to the North and Arm, Syr and Kadaz in the south, finally overcame the foul abominations. Atop the pyramid in the center of the great chamber, a Chain Devil, Lady Iliona, an evil half-orc cleric and a great undead were performing an elaborate ritual. Conner and Syr led the way up the mighty pyramid, only to discover the Chain Devil an illusion. The Lady Iliona, who we had pursued for so long, was sacrificed by the mummy, her blood a necessary ingredient in the spell to resurrect Atmahlanto. The shields and our friends from Plateau City fell upon the great mummy as a horde while Mira, Xenia and I kept Lady Illonia’s blood from tracing its evil pattern through the channels cut into the top of the pyramid. Finally, an enlarged Syr leapt upon the mummy and dragged it to the ground where the rest of our fellowship returned it to death. It was a costly act for the monk as the great mummy inflicted great damage on him and he broke out in terrible boils and was weakened by the fouls creatures’ disease. It was lucky that I had carried the appropriate potion with me, else Syr might have not lasted the night.
We searched the great underground cavern before leaving and Ash and Thunir managed to collapse the hill beneath which the tomb of Atmahlanto lay. Despite some reservations, we left our captive cultist with the ‘guardians’ who continue to protect the tomb from intruders. I believe they changed him into a turtle, a form he will retain till the end of his days.
Our return to Floating City was uneventful, and we have since parted ways with those from Plateau City. Although we failed to find my ‘Lost City of Gold’, we have buried forever the evil hope that Atmahlanto might be revived. Significant treasures also fell our way, not the least of which was the enduring friendship of our brothers and sisters from Plateau City. I have taken the opportunity to pen the ballad below, in hope that one day it might be sung by bards across the Ellenean Peninsula in honour of our accomplishments.
Beneath a veil of tears, her husband now departed
Iliona nursed her fears, her path to shadows charted.
The lady’s wealth and social grace gave her little solace
She gathered many close to her and filled their hearts with malice.
In praise of Atmahlanto
In search of the lich and the promise of death she led them far field
Unknown to them their unholy fate had long already been sealed.
Across the haunted lake and to the farthest shore they flew
They came upon the dryders there and unmercifully they slew
The cursed of Atmahlanto
Deep in the jungle, trees larger than life, we followed where she led
Each foe that was felled, rose again, a foul diseased undead.
We tracked her o’er the Plains of Stone, where ancient creatures fed
A passage way beneath the ground was where the pathway led
To the tomb of Atmahlanto
Beneath the ground we ventured forth, into the darkened halls
A sickly pale was cast upon those dank unhallowed walls
With each step we bravely took we chanced a deadly sight
And many brave companions were frozen by their fright
In the tomb of Atmahlanto
Our cleric’s symbol held aloft, he called upon god’s power
But bolstered by unholy ground, they did not yield or cower
The undead creatures held their ground and nearly stole my life
The fate of all our unslept dreams lay balanced upon a knife
In the tomb of Atmahlanto
In her final grievous hours, Illiona did not falter.
Her life they stole and left her bleed atop their sacred alter
But I was saved to fight again and stop her evil part
For no blood of hers would ever reach that evil waiting heart
In the tomb of Atmahlanto
A desperate battle took place that day as evil battled good
Atop the pyramid of death the unholy creature stood.
Surrounded by our company of dwarves and elves and men,
the defender of the undead king fought us one to ten.
It fought us to a standstill, afflicting us with blight,
But in the end it fell before our combined and righteous might.
The mighty lich lies trapped this day beneath the rock and scree
His temple lies in ruins, no cultists to hear his plea.
No way to rise, he lies in wait, an eternity is his sentence
For the cursed watch from the forest still, unyielding in repentance
O’er the Tomb of Atmahlanto
Though time will pass and leaves will fall and friends will soon depart
Take solace in the knowledge that we’ll be remembered for our part
For beneath the ground in the darkened halls where evil was held at bay
A friendship, hard as steel, was forged on that glorious day
Orcs and Giants
We have purchased two buildings side by side on the merchant level, and with some hard work and the help of a few craftsmen, we have made a home for ourselves. The two houses back on to the parkland at the north end of The Narrow Way and are surrounded by a stone wall. A small garden at the rear of the house provides just enough room to grow a few herbs and vegetables as well as providing a peaceful respite from the turmoil of the city. An iron gate opens up into the parklands.
Syr and the others have set up a small construction business, and with the aid of some hired hands, have begun rebuilding the city after the terrible destruction caused by the Fae King.
Joe William, a scout and woodsman from Plateau City came to find us in the Floating City. He carried a note from Kay at the orphanage telling of a band of men and half-orc bandits that demanded ever increasing tribute from the orphanage and surrounding farms. The tone of the letter was dire, and we hastened to Plateau City through the teleportation portal. Syr and Lang headed immediately for the plantation, scouting the way ahead of us while we stocked up on provisions for ourselves and the orphans. Our trip to the orphanage was uneventful and Kay was happy for the supplies we brought, but the strain of months of harassment from the bandits was showing on her, and she broke down in relief at our presence.
We had barely made ourselves comfortable when six of the ruffians come strolling up the lane as if they owned the place. They were quite surprised to see us and backed down right away. Angus placed some kind of charm on the leader of the six, a half-orc named Stomp and after several skins of wine, was able to pry loose some information. It appears that our earlier suspicions were correct, and the thieves’ guild in Plateau City was involved. Half-charmed and half-drunk, the half-orc told us more of their activities and let slip that they were also accompanied by giants and ogres. Once we had exhausted Stomp’s insight into goings on, I managed to lull him to sleep and we left him tied to a tree, without his weapons. I was feeling quite smug about our bloodless victory and never thought twice about leaving the big lout secured where he was. In hindsight, we might have been better off killing him, for he may have been responsible for the most heinous of acts, but that’s a dangerous road to follow and one that I cannot set foot on after witnessing the fall of Florin to vengeance and distrust.
Not long after our triumph over Stomp, Xenia spotted a small group of half-orcs some distance ahead and sped off alone in pursuit. Magically disguised, first as Stomp and later as a very voluptuous wood nymph, she managed to lure them closer to us, and even dropped one two of them with a few well aimed arrows. Unfortunately one got away, and was likely responsible for the trap we later stumbled into. The trap was sprung in a small clearing littered with enormous boulders, where we were surprised by the appearance of a handful of hellhounds and a troop of ogres who sprung out from behind blinds made from the foliage of shrubs and trees. Syr and Lang immediately engaged the ogres at close quarters while I hung back and tried to protect Angus, Bin and Belkior from the hellhounds. These fire-breathing curs were bad enough, but one of the ogres was obviously gifted with arcane powers and I we soon found ourselves engulfed in flames as he targeted our magickers with several fireballs from above Bin took the worst of it, and would likely have died had not Belkior once again stood tall on his misshapen legs and cast his healing spells, fully exposed to the ogre mage. The hellhounds were no match for my sword and were soon dispatched, but we would surely have been cooked if Xenia had not interceded and disarmed the mage of his staff. Angus managed to hit him with a few acid arrows which eventually killed him. Syr and Lang had their hands full with the ogres, including a particularly nasty brute who was obviously their leader, but the bugbear and the monk persevered and killed most of them. The leader managed to escape, but not without the loss of almost his entire troop.
That night we nursed our wounds, discussed tactics, and readied ourselves for what we hoped would be a final encounter with the bandits. Bin consulted his god, and was rewarded with the premonition of our ambush by boulder throwing stone giants. We kept a careful watch that night and the clerics and mages recharged their powers for what lay ahead. I spent the evening with Xenia, for I was most concerned about her predilection for charging off ahead and unsupported. I tried to make my feelings on the subject known to her, but such is our calling that caution is not always the most reasoned of actions.
After much scouting by Xenia and Lang we have discovered a longhouse made from massive logs and further up a slope the opening to a large cave. The log house was occupied by many half-orcs while the cave mouth was guarded by two ogres. Xenia slipped invisibly into the cave to discover a dozen ogres and two wolves, but no signs of the stone giants. We elected to tackle the cave first for fear of letting stone giants rain down boulders upon us if we attacked the long house first. The battle-plan was simple, teleport in and surprise the enemy. Xenia created a distraction by running through the middle of the room just as we popped in.
At first it appeared our plan was perfect. Xenia created a wall of fire separating the ogres from their weapons while Lang and Syr began tearing the ogres apart. Angus had changed Syr into a troll, and when teamed up with a bugbear you can imagine the carnage. What was worrisome was the ogre leader who disappeared in the midst of the battle. Then the two stone giants appeared and all havoc broke loose. I don’t know if our victory in the giant’s cave was a result of good teamwork or simply desperation. Bin was crushed by a flying boulder thrown by a giant and lay near death for much of the battle. Xenia was also hit by a boulder and badly wounded, but she fought on and cast several spells from the staff she had captured, causing huge walls of fire to arise at the most opportune places. Angus, in his now familiar form of a pixie floated above and harasses ogres and giants alike with fireballs, lightening bolts and searing rays of light. My own contribution was minor. I managed to inflict a few well spaced gashes on the giant that nearly killed Bin and with a little taunting managed to distract it long enough for Belkior to rescue his fellow cleric. I paid a heavy price for my action. Angered by my verbal attacks on it’s character, the giant crushed my shield arm and shoulder with a mere flick of its club. The other giant managed to drop Lang with it’s club and Angus with a boulder before Syr and I finished it.
When the battle was over it was not hard to see just how close it had been. The two giants lay dead on the floor along with a dozen ogres. Xenia and I were both badly hurt. Lang, Angus and Bin were near death as was sunshine, Lang’s courageous dog. Only Syr was moderately unscathed. Yet despite our wounds, we could only grimace at the plight endured by the three dwarves we released from their captivity. Shackled and made to labour on the giants cave, they were further imprisoned by the application of sharpened hooks through their tongues and cheeks that silenced them in what must have been agony.
While the others healed themselves and the dwarves and searched the cave, Lang and I snuck down the hill to the long house to see if the half-orcs and their prisoners were still there. What was meant to be a simple scouting mission turned into perhaps the strangest set of events that I may ever be involved in. The half-orcs had fled, but not without setting the most heinous trap. They had set fire to a pool of oil around several large casks. Afraid that hostages might yet remain inside, I broke a window and jumped into the room to see two burlap sacks wriggling in the corner. The casks exploded and sent burning oil flying in all directions. In no time the building was ablaze as was I. I could not let the innocent perish inside those sacs and called for Lang to help. I managed to free first one and then the second. I could not stop to douse the flames that licked at my skin. The pain was intense at first but then strangely dulled as I freed the second hostage. I could only point her to the safety of a window so seared were my lugs and throat. I was not sure I had the strength to make it out myself. And then a man was there…wrapped in an aura that seemed top protect him from the flames. He smiled, and waved his arms, and then I was outside along with the others.
Bin and Belkior thought him some kind of god, for he was there throughout my ordeal, watching, maybe judging and preventing their assisting me. He spoke to me, but I heard little of it as I coughed up the smoke. Then he touched me, and a powerful surge of well being flooded through my body and I was healed, nay more than healed for I had never felt so strong, so agile, so powerful. Before I could thank him, this ‘god’ warned us of a coming test and vanished. I am left to wonder whether my actions were as deserving of special attention as the strange figure believed, for I had no doubt that any among our small band would have done the same.
We brought the two hostages back to the orphanage. They had both been sold into the slavery of the half-orcs. Pregnant and without protectors they had been left to perish. With nowhere else to turn they were glad of our offer. Our reception back at the orphanage was as heart warming as ever. Kay and Buckle made sure we were well fed and rested, and the children were quite excited by all the commotion. It is good to be here, but I cannot help but wonder about this test…
Domi's Test
The test, as it was called by the God named as Domi by Bin and Belkior, was every bit as dangerous as was foretold. I don’t believe any of us could have refused it, yet Lang, who joined the Shields with me, and who was cursed as I by the Druiss Knot, paid the ultimate price and died. The emotional strain of adventure has also proven too high for Bin who has left us and returned to a missionary life. The rest of the Shields are content to rest and to heal our wounds, at least for the moment. But I race ahead. The tale of our adventure begins much earlier.
It was not long after returning to the orphanage when Domi came before us in a blinding vision. Frozen by pain and unable to speak we listened as he spoke of darkness and evil and a force of domination in the Wold that must be stopped. Before we could ask a single question we found ourselves transported to an open hillside near what we came to learn was the village of Stonegap northeast of Shadow Mountain. The village was a poor place, a few farms scratching a living from the unyielding earth. The headman of the village, John Broadshoulders, bade us welcome and offered us shelter.
Despite all appearances to the contrary, the village was not as isolated as we thought. Once settled we discovered that two clerics of Ga’al, Avorn and Attil, had recently arrived and were building a church in the dominators name. The two clerics seemed friendly enough but John, the head man of the village, expressed worry over their growing influence with the village youngsters. Both Binberry and Belkior were ready to confront the two minions of Ga’al when our attention was diverted by the discovery of a dragon scale and footprint by one of the local children. Angus believed this to be our test, and all talk turned to battling a red dragon we had never actually seen. I was not so sure. Surely the spread of domination by Ga’al was a more important task. Nevertheless, we ventured forth towards the next set of hills some 15 miles distant in search of Angus’ dragon.
Our first night was interrupted by the arrival of Beth, a young girl from the village who was to be married to an older man. The clerics would only marry those who had been heart-seeded, and although her parents desired the marriage, she was against it and wished to join us rather than undergo the ritual. I could not blame her. Xenia was ready to smite whosoever came near the girl, including her brother Jacob who sought to bring her back. It was not until the next day that John Broadshoulders arrived to reclaim his kin and calmer heads prevailed.
Bin spent the early morning in deep prayer and came away satisfied that the dragon was indeed the focus of our test, and was also sure that the dragon and the priests of Ga’al were somehow intertwined. With renewed confidence we set off in search of the great wyrm, not knowing how sorely or how soon this confidence would be tested.
It was still early morning when the first of many surprises for that day arrived. Out of nowhere, a large earth elemental appeared and nearly killed Binberry with a single blow. Just as Angus dispelled it, two dire tigers appeared in our midst, and then a dire ape. Belkior managed to dispel the invisibility spell that hid the conjurer who opposed us, and in the process at least four other Ga’alians. Syr pursued and tackled the mage responsible for these conjured foes, whilst the rest of us defended ourselves as best we could. The tide of battle was at last turned by our magickers who bombarded the summoner and her creatures with fire and ice. Alas they managed to escape and forced us to pursue them much as hounds to a fox.
We cornered our foes in a clearing where they had established a barrier of flashing blades within which they took shelter. Much to my dismay, Xenia dove through the blades and into their midst. It was as if they could not see her, for she inflicted many wounds on them without before being nearly felled by the sword wielding half-orcing. Bin and Belkior kept occupied pursuing a Halfling who possessed many of the same abilities to slip in and out of sight as Xenia. Bin was nearly felled by this crafty assassin, but his fellow cleric and Syr helped stay his death. I focussed my attention on the mage who led the group. Her stoneskin spell could not protect her from my adamantine blade and I slowly wore her down, albeit not without suffering gravely from the lightning she hurled at me in her own defence. With each successful wound, I also wounded her companions, for they were linked as one by the heart seeds they each carried in their chests.
During this battle, the cleric that led this unholy alliance abandoned the field in favour of tending to the very dragon we sought. In his mistaken belief that our fates were sealed, he let slip that the dragon was to be heart seeded and placed under the domination of Ga’al, and with this knowledge our test became clear.
In recounting this tale, I would be remiss to not mention the actions of Binberry, our cleric, who dealt with the dead Ga’alians. Concerned that they might be raised as undead, he removed the heart seeds and what remained of the hearts of each of them. The seeds had wound themselves around the tissues and veins as well as the spinal chords of each of the deceased. We destroyed the seeds and hearts to prevent further corruption and then to my amazement, Bin talked with the dead! How they could answer his questions was surely a matter of divinity, but answer they did. It was thus we discovered the location of the dragon’s lair, the plans of their leader, and worse, his ambitions to dominate even more dragons into the future.
As we marched toward the dragon’s lair and our ultimate test, I came to write a short verse, in part to raise our spirits. Though poor by the standards of bards in the richest quarters who may have days and weeks to pen their works, I am still proud of it.
it's claws will tear the sinew,
but a dragon's heart can aye be rent
by a warriors strike so true
So let the blood course through your veins
and scream your loudest cry,
for rare's a fiend that can stand afore
those such as you and I
Fear not! Stand fast! We'll hold the day
In this we cannot fail
For as long as our swords are lifted high
Our enemy will not prevail
But should our spirits sink so low
Our hearts be torn asunder
Truly then will all be lost
Our enemies free to plunder
So let the fire course through your veins
and scream your loudest cry,
for rare' s a fiend that can stand afore
Once again the gods have interceded, blessing us with a premonition of what awaits within the dragon’s lair. Alas it was not enough to fully prepare us for what destiny awaited. The lair was high above the valley floor in a mountainside cave. A bell hung from an iron post outside the cave, and within, a series of magical traps designed to inflict great pain and even death on the unwary.
On our approach we were surprised by 5 bone devils summoned to defeat us. Two of them turned out to be mere illusions designed to divert our attention from the real danger, and several blows were wasted on each before we understood their purpose. The three remaining devils were more than enough trouble, for one nearly killed me, but our combined efforts were enough to kill two and drive the remaining one away.
Domi’s forewarning allowed Angus to teleport us into the cave and past the forbiddance we knew to plague the entrance. We were also able to avoid the magical mirrors that Domi foresaw spawning copies of ourselves to do battle against. In a desperate bid to delay our approach, the Ga’alian cast row upon row of ice walls to prevent our reaching him before he could complete the ritual of the heart seed. He had not counted on Angus and his summoned fire elementals. On the other hand, we had not counted in the dragon being such a willing host to the cleric of Ga’al.
The dragon, who named himself ‘Hotshot’, was yet undecided on whether he would accept the benefits of the heart seed as described to him by the cleric Timity. Our approach was welcomed as at least an interesting diversion, and at best, a test of the powers of Ga’al. We were offered the chance to send forth three champions against three of the same from Ga’al. Should we win the cleric and his heart seed would be cast aside and the dragon would leave his lair and be free to go elsewhere. Should we lose, well, we dared not think of the consequences. We selected Lang, Syr and Bin as our champions and prepared them as best we could, and they were magnificent. The cleric summoned three of his own champions to face them, an air elemental, a huge centipede and another bone devil.
The first bout was short lived, for Lang and his wicked blade made short work of the centipede, and Bin was able to call upon his divine strength and cause the bone devil to flee, leaving only the elemental to fight the group. Syr managed to injure the elemental with a flurry of blows, and the Ga’alian called it from the field and conceded the round.
The second round was when Lang was lost to us. The cleric himself along with the air elemental and a newly summoned and very large earth elemental entered the arena. Lang, Bin and Syr again stepped foreward. The earth elemental was quickly laid asunder, but the evil cleric reached out and touched Lang, draining him of vigor. That single touch reduced the most powerful of bugbears to near death, leaving him vulnerable to the air elemental’s onslaught. There was naught anyone could do to prevent it. All I could do from the cursed safety of the alcove was to sing an inspirational verse. Little good that it did! A moment later Syr managed to overpower the cleric, and with a single motion ripped the heart seed from his chest. The priest collapsed in a pool of blood for a great deal of his heart came away with the evil seed. And still there was nothing to be done for Lang.
It was then that the wyrms treachery was clear, for he picked up the body of our beloved Lang and attempted to carry him off to his ‘hall of champions’ for ransom. I could not leave such an honourable warrior on the field, and challenged the dragon to leave him with us and keep his promised word. The battle that followed was nearly all of our ends. Syr was transformed once again into a troll and his valour made the difference, for Hotshot opened his gaping maw and spewed fire on all of us before flying up towards the ceiling from where he could attack at leisure. Angus fired his acid arrow at the great beast, but even this failed to prevent it from nearly devouring Syr with a single bite. Angus’ arrows continued to pump their acid into the dragon just as Xenia and I managed to impale it with our sword. And then Bin did the most amazing thing…he surrendered. He offered himself to the dragon in exchange for Lang ands Syr. Whether it was a ruse I do not know, but the dragon accepted and dropped Syr to the coins at his feet before fleeing to an alcove. Xenia, Syr and I pressed the attack, believing him to be near dead. Belkior and Bin attempted to cast spells but the dragon was unaffected. It was thus that Angus’ arrows brought down the dragon as their acid pumped one last time into the wyrm’s veins. Hotshot died with a last horrible blast of fire as he tried to exact his vengeful will upon us. Many of us were hurt badly by this final wrathful act, but none perished, and thus I prepare this account.
A dragon rose from deep beneath,
the mountains tall, their roots so deep.
In it’s wake a trail of blood,
lives laid waste in red brown mud.
His den stacked full of ill-gained gold,
his wretched heart grew gray and old.
His kind all cursed, and mates so rare,
without true hope, he guards his lair
Perhaps a god might give him purpose,
save him from a life so fruitless.
The price to pay his, his own free will,
but oh to swallow such a bitter pill.
To his dismay the Shields drew near,
despite dire council they showed no fear.
This band of brothers, so small and weak,
step by step, they near his peak
Elves and men and halflings small,
a single breath might toast them all.
On they come, a town to rescue,
Their minds are set, their hearts are true.
His challenge laid, and champions dared,
the winners lives at least be spared.
But for himself, he harbours fear,
for by this test dost his true path clear.
A heart seed sewn within his breast,
His free will gone should they lose the test
The other choice, a life alone
No mate or child to share his throne.
Fear not ‘red wyrm’, your choice is made,
The Shields are here, we will not fade.
The cleric’s toys we will return,
to fiery depths where they will burn.
Be thankful still, we stay our sword,
this pile of gold claimed as reward.
You’re free to go, no leash, nor pen,
spared by righteous elves and men.
Fear not red wyrm, your choice is made,
Flee from here, your dark soul saved.
Stay and fight and you shall die,
Saddened by the loss of our comrade, Belkior cast a spell and we were whisked away to meet Gargul himself. We were escorted through the Shadowlands and brought to the great lord by Gimp, his servant. Our audience was short. Lang’s soul for our service in investigating a disturbance to the Woldsblood was the bargain made. Alas it was not to be consumated. We travelled for an indeterminate time in the shadows before finding the most pastoral of scenes; a meadow of flowers and a small house in the valley. This oasis of peace was inhabited by a coven of witches who claimed to serve those whose loved ones had died. The hags had found a nexus of ley lines and called upon its power to allow the living a last parlay with the recently deceased. It seemed a harmless enough intrusion in the Shadowlands, but years of distrust and hatred are hard to break down. Gargul called upon us to rid his lands of the witches, a task for which we had no heart. Lang left us of his own volition rather than abet such a deed, and Bin too left to follow a different path within Gargul’s realm. We were returned to the dragon’s lair without our friends.
Dead as he was, the dragon had one more trick left to play, for Xenia tripped a hidden glyph and a wall of force entrapped her with some kind of spined devil. I was sure she was lost to me, but Angus saved the day by teleporting in and then back out, depriving the devil of his prey. It was in these back tunnels that we were re-united with Florin, the former leader of the Shields, and two travelling companions. Florin, Theodore and Harley had been taken captive by kobolds and imprisoned by the dragon. His death had enabled their escape, and they stood before us bereft of armour or weapons. T’was not long before we had recovered their belongings and had made our way back to Stone Gap where this adventure had it’s origin.
Our return to the village was not the joyous celebration which I had expected, instead we returned to a village in disarray. The two Ga’alian priests and a number of the villagers who had agreed to be heart-seeded lay unconscious, their seeds withered and dead within their chests. Upon examination, the heart seeds were easily removed from the villagers, but still entwined in the flesh of the two clerics of Ga’al. Clearly our efforts to dispatch the cleric that was sent to had a more far reaching impact than we might have ever imagined. Surely we have passed the test set by Domi’s avatar and rid the Wold of a great evil, for Belkior’s prayers to the gods have revealed to us that heart-seeds across the Wold have withered and set free their prisoners. Yet I cannot find the heart to celebrate when villagers remain unconscious and I am constantly reminded that Lang was lost to us in the effort.
Having spent the night in Stone Gap, we are reassured that with Belkior’s intervention, the villagers and the clerics will recover from their experience. We have also decided to pursue the Kobolds who escaped the dragon’s lair, for they carry with them untold treasure, and their treatment of Florin and the others is proof they mean no good. I am glad we have chosen this path, for I do not wish to sit idly and dwell on Lang’s sacrifice. I am also anxious to see our new companions in action. Florin, for his part, looks much the better for his time away. No longer does he carry the dark aura of unfulfilled revenge. Theodore and his pet raven, Macaw, are an interesting duo. The young wizard seems a bit at odds with the Wold. His clothes appear too big and it must apply as well to his shoes for he stumbles about as if his feet were not his own. The bird seems mostly an annoyance. Harley is the quieter of the new members. Encased in full plate, the cleric walks tall and seems to exude a quiet confidence. It will be of interest to see him in battle.
