Hello, Taxidermists!
In our seventh session, we finally completed the Prologue! The fun is just beginning, and I know you all
will create unique, fun and powerful PCs, and I’ll enjoy throwing adventures at
you, testing your skills and combat prowess.
As a quick review of everything you all have accomplished, I’ll
highlight each session.
In the
first session, the party met one another in the Inn
of the Gallant Gate, a prominent inn in the bustling trading town of Thoroma. Although the owner, Harull XIV, was out of
town, the temporary manager Vako, sent the party below the inn to thwart a rat
problem in the wine cellar. The party
did so valiantly, though Seyer, the party’s fighter grew ill from a festering
bite. They also discovered a
long-forgotten cave with a pool of water illuminated through the grate
above. A skeleton, animated upon
approach, emerged from the pool and beckoned the adventurers to take the
beautiful ring from his finger and release him.
The party did, and upon returning the ring to the recently-arrived owner
of the inn, it was discovered that the ring was that of the owner’s father,
Harull XIII. It is clear that Vako was
ill-intentioned, and Harull had him arrested.
In the
second session, the party set out to meet the mayor of Thoroma. The town was in an uproar as it prepared for
its annual Spring Festival to mark the vernal equinox. The party marched to the guildhall but was
unable to find him. Using a somewhat
ambiguous clue left by the mayor. They
found him and were surprised at his form; he was a gnome, of all things, and a
prosperous merchant who headed the local trading guild. He directed them to the Lord of Thoroma, Lord
Nadmum, for work. Upon returning to the
guildhall to meet the nobleman, they found instead a defeated, desperate man
who had lost his “lover” after fleeing his castle as it was overrun by goblins. His mind and body wracked with anguish and
fear, he gladly sent the party to liberate Castle Manifang from the interloping
goblins. His castle, at the top of the cliffs
south of town, was only a short walk distance up a nearby ridge. While walking up the Gall Ridge to the
castle, the party encountered a worg, a vicious beast and cohort of the
goblins. Despite their attempts to assuage
his malcontent, he attacked ruthlessly, nearly destroying the party. Each worked together as a team and slew the
malevolent creature. In an attempt to
use its flesh as a means of intimidation, they butchered the corpse.
In the
third and fourth sessions, our party charged up the ridge to the castle,
slaying dozens of goblins in their path in creative ways. The trudge up the hill was long, arduous and
bloody, but by morning, the party had arrived and, before penetrating the
castle defenses, witnessed a lithe woman slither up a rope into the side of the
castle.
The fifth
and sixth sessions were centered around the infiltration of Castle
Manifang. More goblins were felled and,
in investigating found scrolls and weapons littered around the castle. The goblin ringleader, a hobgoblin with a
scorched hand and a marksman lackey, lay in wait for the party. A battle ensued and as the hobgoblin’s defeat
grew imminent, he revealed a cryptic message about their impending doom. He had been guarding a securely locked chest
and the key on the slain hobgoblin’s person did little to compromise the lock. It did, however, free the woman who had
climbed in the window that morning, as she had been captured. A human clad in leather from neck to toe, she
gave her name as “Mel,” and the party warily followed her out the window and
back to the city, where she had important news to share. She led the party through the temple of Thoroma and unlocked a secret passageway
beneath its stone foundation. In the
base of the temple
of Thoroma, a secret lair
housed a secret organization known as the Priory of the Icterine Eye. Mel admitted them and within, nearly a dozen
people of different races and backgrounds regarded them. With her grateful thanks, Mel relieved Naya
of the chest and, after one of the impatient half-orcs present smashed it, a staggering,
unnaturally large red ruby fell carelessly onto the floor. Raina, compelled beyond her will, clutched
the stunning gem, and it took Kalecgos and Mel to pry it free from her
fortitudinous gem. An account was given
regarding the remarkable gemstone; it was the essence of a dragon absorbed over
the creature’s life, and it was filled with all its malice, its avarice and its
malcontent.
And now,
the most recent session!
Wednesday, March 22, NY 931
After just
a few minutes, the ancient stone chamber is starting to feel uncomfortably
close. Being surrounded by total
strangers making some savory stew is not the place where anyone here thought
they’d be just three days ago. No
matter. The festival will start
tomorrow.
As the
magical fire flickers under the iron pot, bubbles pop and fizzle every few
seconds. Mel, amongst the party members,
is the only person we know even remotely.
The others are not unfriendly, just quiet, as if an utterance of a
simple “hello” will reveal this cult’s guarded secrets. Raina, shaken from her inseparable
interaction with the ruby, hurriedly eats her hot stew. Naya, her owl resting quietly upon her slight
shoulder, eats in silence, while listening to the moving and shifting of the
earth that envelops us. Seyer consumes
the lumpy soup, longing for some hearty bread to accompany it. Kalecgos pokes the shrouded gem with the butt
of his shortspear, and it clacks angrily back.
He inquires to Mel about the nature of such a gem. She explains that dragons consume everything
living, dead or inanimate, and that gems and precious metals are the delicacy
of choice for most of them. Over the
centuries of their lifespan, the stone, gems, and metals they ingest partly
congeal within the flesh of the dragon into a hard, gem-like essence. The essence is a powerful magic option when
extracted from a slain dragon, and it can be incredibly seductive even to the
hardest of hearts and strongest of minds.
Raina fell prey to it, but any other time, others would, too.
The “dragon
ruby,” as they are colloquially called by the few people in Alora that
understand what they truly are, is an addling tool for the surviving dragons of
that kind that can be placed in the possession of powerful, yet susceptible
people, who will then do the bidding of the dragons. The dragons’ desires become the innate
desires of the charmed, and the charmed will often do anything to be reunited
with it, if separated.
As we take
a moment to absorb this, thunder rumbles overhead. The Priory stops eating, and suddenly, the
earth quakes violently and dust puffs out from every worn crevice in the stone
chamber. We rush to the door, fling it
open, and find that the ceiling that once concealed the passage to the Priory’s
lair has been shattered, and blue sky and clouds of dust have replaced it. Mel grabs the dragon essence and bolts past
us, and we follow her, clamoring up the intact stone ladder indented at the end
of the once-secret passage.
We find a
chaotic mess above ground. To the
southwest, a mass of black creatures are marching north towards the guildhall
across town. Catapults, surely the
thunder we heard, account for the remainder of this sinister army, and one
catapult heaves a mass our way. We take
cover, and the projectile strikes the apse of the temple, creating a thunderous
sound as the stone it hits disintegrates into nothing. The glass windows in the ceiling and the apse
blow apart into deadly shards with a pop, as if released from bondage. Several of us briefly go deaf from the crash,
echoing throughout the temple. Those of
us that can hear only perceive the shrieks and cries of men, women and children
fleeing for their lives. Soldiers,
militiamen and citizens alike are abandoning their stalls and homes and dashing
headlong to the guildhall, the only remaining structure of substance in the
town. We make the decision to also run
for the guildhall. The army draws nearer
as we run, and covering the several hundred feet in lightning speed is taxing
on us. Our ears still ring, but recover
to the point of use by the time we get to the hall.
The
situation here is no more encouraging.
Soldiers, only recognizable by their haphazardly-donned armor, try to
contain the mob within the courtyard of the guildhall. Some peasants brandish farm implements and
household items, others have abandoned all but their family, running
frantically like mice from a ferocious cat.
A single mounted soldier is as terrified as his horse, but a uniformed
man hands him a sealed missive, and the mounted soldier rides hard to the north
towards the princedom of Ginta’s capital, Kelten.
It is easy
to surmise from the situation, though, that many of the guards feel this is a
futile skirmish. They corral the masses
towards the guildhall like shepherds before lions. We push through the mess of people to the
hall itself, and upon entering it, it is even louder and more frantic. Weapons and armor are being lifted from
statues and the wall itself having long been ceremoniously committed
there. Kalecgos sought the icy staff
that hung aloft in the west wing, but it surely must have been one of the first
weapons snatched.
We push
through the crowds as people swear aloud, crying out to Pelor for help. We find the mayor’s office, and his two
guards quickly admit us. Within the
adorned office of the mayor, Tammil of the Golden Glove and his personal
retinue have begun placing things at the door to bar it shut. Bookshelves, tables, chairs, and anything
else of weight have been consigned to be useful only for their mass against the
soon-to-be breached door. Tammil,
frantic and furious, has little idea what’s going on, only that goblins are
approaching the guildhall and to prepare for the worst. It is clear that Thoroma is ill-prepared for
an assault even a fraction of this
size. His cool gnomish eyes look upon
the party, and within them, a flash of fear hints at the acceptance of his own
death.
From
outside, a woman’s voice has quieted the courtyard and the guildhall. Hundreds of feet scuffle across the stone of
the courtyard. The female voice calls
out, thought no one in Tammil’s office understands what she says. A voice replies in deep, guttural Draconic,
and the female voice then replies in Draconic, that ancient arcane tongue. With a pop, the voice stops and what is
undoubtedly goblin voices erupt in sound.
The cacophony resumes, and Tammil and his soldiers push Tammil’s desk,
the final object that doesn’t breathe, against the door. Tammil grabs a piece of parchment from his
overturned desk as well as a quill and, using some spilled ink, pens something
quickly on the curled vellum. He rolls
it up, dips his ring in melted candlewax on the floor and impresses his seal
upon it. He hands it to Naya, explaining
that it needs to be delivered to the Princess of the Bells, west of here. He tells us to proceed, pulling back a rug in
the corner of his office and revealing a recessed escape hatch within the wood. He lifts and tells them to get in, telling
us, “When you reach the end, keep going,” in Sylvan. He basically drops the wooden gate on our
heads and throws the rug on top of it with a thud. Naya lights a torch, revealing our immediate
future. Before us is a dark, cavernous
passage leading only one direction: down.
An iron door, its frame built into the bedrock around it, no longer
performs its office well, allowing us all through it and then being easily
jammed with a swift kick afterward. Naya
holds her torch alight, her owl peering into the darkness with a soft coo.
The ground
is roughly shaped bedrock, interrupted every few feet by a wooden step down,
following the grade of the descent. The
sound of the battle upstairs slowly grows quieter and quieter until it all but
disappears. In the quiet, nothing the
crackling of Naya’s torch and the occasional plop of water in the distance
disturbs it. An alcove in the rock a
short way down reveals a shallow place for an unlucky prisoner or guard to
sleep. No remnants of a person exist
within this divet, but an antique sword does.
The grip and hilt are rusted, and whole chunks of the blade have been
eaten away by the clock. Nevertheless,
Raina is determined to find a use, even if just some coin, and takes it with
her.
Hundreds
have feet have elapsed since we entered this tunnel. No signs of life can be found within this
cave. However, that wasn’t always the
case. After about two-hundred feet, we
find a small, purposeful opening in the wall about ten feet square. A rotted bedframe devoid of a mattress lies
in the corner with two ration pots at the foot of the bed and two key hooks on
the wall, each empty and worn. Raina, a
glutton for destruction, smashes the pots with her sword. Remarkably loud in the close space, she
smashes them gleefully after a few swats with her sword. What once felled conspiring goblins, mutant rats,
and vicious beasts of prowess is now reduced to the role of a vandal’s
hammer.
Farther in,
two cells catch our attention. The
first, bearing a weathered and half-buried skeleton, is shoddily defended with
an iron door. It takes nothing to open
it, and within, we find a rotting table, a linen garment of some kind, and a
loose stone containing a trapped, but lovely gem. In the other, just a few feet beyond the
first, we find a locked iron door, though a good tug breaks the lock without
incident. A skeleton is found here as
well, and in his lap, a dilapidated book sits open. It is a history of Thoroma written by Harull
XIV’s ancestor, Harull I, and the book dates several centuries back, giving some
hint to the age of this prison.
After this
cell, the cave completely yields to nature.
No sign of human interference now, just the soft trickling of water from
a distant spring.
Or not so
distant. A step from Seyer unsettles the
dirt beneath our feet. Seyer and Kale
clumsily leap forward into the darkness to avoid falling, while Naya and Raina
stumble and fall more than a dozen feet to a recessed cavern below their
path. Her torch clatters loudly on the
ground, but surprisingly maintains its flame.
We are now in a larger and more open cavern. Stalagmites and stalactites adorn the
horizontal surfaces of the cavern, and the spring we had heard bubbles beneath
our feet, located right about where we fell.
It puddles down a small groove in the floor and trickles into a tiny
crack in a wall on the other side of the cavern. We each look for a way out in what seems like
a dead end, but none of us find one. Naya
holds her torch aloft, peering at the ceiling and, in particular, one unusual
stalactite. Her owl flies up on her
command and pokes the stalactite. With
one eerie motion, the stalactite unfurls into a darkmantle, a cavebound
gastropod that emits an aura of darkness.
Naya’s torch dims and fades into nothing, and the party engages the
now-invisible creature.
After a
violent struggle by each member involved, the darkmantle succumbs to the wildly
thrown swings and thrusts of the party’s weapons. Even after the bizarre creature breathes its
last, it takes several minutes for the darkness to dissipate. The torch’s flame burns unattended as the
aura fades away.
The search
to find a way out resumes. Seyer
cleverly checks some loose rocks on one cavern wall. He easily removes one of them, then another
and another; we each assist, pulling away rocks of all shapes and sizes. We clear away foot after foot of rock, and
our hands grow dry and calloused from the mud and dust that cakes them. Finally after what seems like hours, we see
light from the other side of the last layer of rocks. We extract them and emerge in a familiar
chamber. We are in the lake-laden
chamber below the Inn of the Gallant
Gate. Twilight pours in through the
grate from the ceiling, and Harull XIII’s skeleton remains lifeless at the edge
of the pool. On sure footing again, we
head back through the cave that leads to the back of the cellar. We find it, climb through the whole we’d made
just days earlier and are greeted by the unpleasant, stale aroma of death. Suppose Harull didn’t have time to clean up
the mess. We emerge from the cellar and
observe what of Thoroma we can see, mostly the southern half. Fires burn, smoke rises and the sound of
families weeping and cries for help fill the air. It is a terrible scene, and we are brought
away from it for a moment as we hear the sound of shuffling from within the
otherwise silent inn. We walk into the
in from the back, passing through the storeroom and into the dining room. Of all people, Mel is waiting for us, and she
looks a bit worse for the wear. Sweaty
and red in the face, she has been on the move throughout the town for
sometime.
She
explains that she must make for Hobric, where the dragons attacked as
well. She gives us an important mission;
meet her in one week in Yidda, a city beyond the Glittering Wood to the west,
if we wish to further the cause of the Priory and defend the people of
Cambir. We accept. She bows deeply and extends an honor to us,
making us each Tenants of the Priory of the Icterine Eye. She wishes us luck and speed on our journey
and suggests we stay at the abandoned inn for the night.
We agree to
this, as each of us is ready for a sound night’s sleep; Thoroma is very quiet,
but there is little we can do at this point.
As we retire upstairs, we find several items of value abandoned by Harull’s
possibly deceased guests. Naya finds a
fascinating sword made of hardened darkwood and a shield to accompany it, and
Kalecgos finds a wand of unknown quality or power, but the magic coursing
between his fingers as he holds it reassures him of its value.
Had we
truly succeeded in our mission? The
first blood had been drawn, and what had we done to stop it? More importantly, how were we going to finish
it? The evil dragonkind of the world
could be mobilizing. If they are, was
Thoroma was just a side show, a fluke, or only the first of many steps?
We know
what fuels them, we know what they want, and maybe, just maybe…we can stop
them. We can make our stand! We will hold our ground! We will destroy the Scourge of the Redwyrm!
At this point, the prologue is concluded and you may follow
whatever path you all choose. Feel free
to continue the mission, which in itself will contribute to all the things
given below, but I know each of you wants to explore the things you can do with
your character, and I want you to incorporate as much or as little of that as
you want. Animal companions, mounts and
familiars, magical items, dungeons, politics, exploration, spells,
monsters….each of these provide more fun for you, so just pick what you would
like to do. Starting next time, I will
be using an overworld map so you can better visualize your place in the world,
and I intend, if you want to, that you be allowed to explore every inch of it. You all continue to surprise me with your
choices during each session, so it’ll certainly never get stale.
Also, I know that I had talked to some of you (including
several people not in this group) that sound interested in one-offs, where you
create a leveled character and utilize them in a shorter, self-contained adventure
(preferably a single, albeit long, session).
I am happy with doing these, and it can give you an opportunity to try
something else. D&D 4th
Edition does this, and although I don’t agree with a lot of that edition’s
“features,” I think that one is a practical and efficient one. If you would like to do this, let me
know. Alora is big enough that I can
still set it within the world and mythology of Alora while having you thousands
of miles away from Cambir.
Later this week, I'll be posting all possible familiar options for Drew. If anything else has something they need, just ask!
Keep all that in mind, but most importantly, do what YOU
want to do. See you all next session!
