8) Into the Maw


Adventure: Into the Maw
Session: 2007-05-27
Player: Rachel
PC: Silverwind Siivrell
Status: Warblade 1/Wizard 5/Jade Phoenix Mage 5

We continued to work our way through the dark fortress; we next quickly defeated a group of aberrations (our sworn enemies), and then rested for the night inside a rope trick inside a secret passage that the guard kindly told us about.

Only one strange event occurred while we stood against the aberrations.

“Not right now… kind of busy.”

Why did Mike just say that?

Obviously, someone is talking to him.

Hm.

A moment or two later, when a path to the entrance had cleared, he said, “I’ve got to go,” and went.

In the middle of the Mournland?

That seems even more foolish than something you would do.

Hey!

***

The next day, Mike found and rejoined us; he explained that he had to take a message from an oak tree.

An oak tree? That seems odd. I mean, dryad, maybe, or an awakened plant, but–

I told you so! Don’t you remember me mentioning that oak tree near the ziggurat?

Not really.

You’re hopeless.

***

We passed through the next chamber by means of silence and invisibility, avoiding the monsters there. Sovelom also examined a pit there, briefly, which apparently led to the Glowing Chasm. He informed us that it had strong magic from every school… and could tell without detecting magic.

Siivrell… I don’t like this.

It’s the Mournland. Let’s not go swimming in there, shall we?

Nebu cast fly on all of us, and we went up a shaft in the next chamber… which led us to the uppermost part of a tower, where the Lord of Blades appeared to be casting into a huge cauldron, and Vol (whom we recognized from before) chained to the base of it, holding a plush green dragon and looking generally terrified. Of course, we were still invisible at this point, but, with her being part dragon, she could sense us. Tyrian cast a fog around the Lord of Blades, and then Siivrell lunged forward.

Uh, Siivrell, remember last time, when—

Oh, shush. Maybe she’s had a change of heart.

Siivrell! She’s undead! She doesn’t really have—

Too late. She had already drawn me, and I crashed readily through the chain. Vol shook it off, gestured towards the cloud… then cast an antimagic field on our war weaver. The Lord of Blades was really only an illusion, as were the chains.

SIIVRELL!! What did I tell you?!

She was this tricky last time, wasn’t she?

Here we go again…

Chaos followed. Spells were cast; the war weaver walked untouched among them. For a moment, many of us, including myself, shamed though I am to admit it, were deceived by one of Vol’s spells into believing all of our allies to be Vol. Most unpleasantly dispelled, I’ll tell you. The gnome Teferi dispelled many of Vol’s defenses using the powers of his mind, and Tyrian finally managed to get past them with his blasting capabilities. At last, she was at the edge of Sovalem’s sleet storm, just keeping her balance… and a perfect target.

Siivrell sent her fury through me, augmenting my own strength. Vol was destroyed.

There! That’s done then.

Siivrell… if you were a lich, where would you keep your phylactery?

Very, very far away from my main base; in a secondary safe place, established beforehand, if possible. Hm. I see your point. But there’s always hoping, right?

I suppose… did you recognize that curse?

That dark language, yes.

The last time someone cursed us like that…

Don’t remind me. At least it only lasted one lifetime.

The pieces of Vol flew into the cauldron, which cracked; from within it emerged a green dragon, which flew into the… blue sky?

I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that. Ever.

Me, neither.

How could she have cleared the gloom over this part of the Mournland? And why? Is it just a consequence of the power she was using? The cauldron did have powers of animate dead and consumptive field contained in it; that has clearly affected her, but, with the moons’ conjunction, what has it done to the Mournland?

I’m a sword. You’re the mage.

Right. And the Mournland is also without precedent… what a puzzle.

After a moment, still under the effects of Nebu’s fly spell, Mike rose above the rest of us to examine the surrounding area. He reported that the Glowing Chasm was now boiling and bubbling.

So now the glowing chasm is a boiling brew of extremely powerful magic of all kinds.

Siivrell, that can’t be good.

For once, I’m inclined to agree with you. Animate dead… hm. What if that just animated the dead lying in the Mournland?

Siivrell?

Yes?

I don’t know about you, but that’s more undead than I can handle.

That’s what I thought. I hope I’m as wrong as you always say I am.

Player’s Notes

I am highly amused by the last strike made against Vol. Lots of stuff causing lots of damage. Yay! Siivrell will be most disappointed if she and Vol meet again. Which, considering the lifespans of the persons involved… is not unlikely.

Amazing, nobody was killed in that encounter. Or even dropped into negatives… which, considering the amount of healing magic we have, is a good thing.

And now, for the final showdown…

Advertisements

Adventure: Into the Maw
Sessions: 2007-05-27
Player: Dave Zhang
PC: Tyrian
Status: Human Paragon 1/Wizard 1/Human Paragon +2/Master Specialist 4/Fatespinner 3

A blaster’s worst nightmare

Orilam, a young (by elf standards) girl of some 80 winters, finished relaying High Priest Blaze’s message to the Keeper of the Flame. Jaela was noticeably upset.

“What the Flame!? I can see Krozen not wanting me in on the military planning and all, but Blaze? My own dear Jermon?”

Orilam attempted to put in an appeasing statement. “Sir Blaze most likely does not wish to trouble Your Grace with the stress of military reports in these trying times.”

“Because, you know, I’m just dying from the stress of interpreting the Silver Flame these days. Geez, I’ve even told him already that the Flame’s been awfully quiet of late.”

“Sir Blaze did entrust Your Grace with the highly important task of divining enemy movements…”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing that just like he asked. I mean, we have days until the warforged armies are anywhere near! Is it too much to ask that he spends a couple hours with his best and oldest friend?” Jaela sighed after her angry rant. “You know, sometimes I really envy you, Orilam. Tyrian never needs to be asked twice to spend time with you.”

“I…” Orilam blushed. “I was not aware Your Grace knew of our relationship.”

“Oh, come on, give me some credit here. How am I to stand against Krozen when he finally acts against me if I can’t even figure out the motives and actions of my own followers? Don’t worry though; I haven’t been telling others.”

Orilam bowed. “Your Grace is kind.”

“Hey, my kindness isn’t free here. Tyrian got in earlier today, right? Knowing him, he probably told you all the details of his missions. Come on, spill it!”

“Tyrian was somewhat upset upon returning. He griped on and on about ‘a blaster’s worst nightmare.'”

“Wait, this is the vampire that Blaze with dealing with earlier? Antua or something like that?”

Orilam shook her head. “No, the vampire Antinua was defeated easily by Tyrian early yesterday. Afterwards, Sir Blaze sent Tyrian out on another mission with his newfound colleagues. They traveled to the Glowing Chasm in the Mournland, where Vol had built a stronghold.”

“VOL!? Like, we’re talking the half-dragon half-elf half-lich Mark of Death-dragonmarked leader of the Emerald Claw here?”

“Yes, according to Sir Blaze (by way of Tyrian), Vol and the Lord of Blades have been allied in raising the warforged armies. It is said that some of the warforged are undead, and bear dragonmarks.”

“Hm, I suppose that makes sense.” Jaela then slammed the desk with her fist. “And what did Blaze think would be the harm in letting me know about this!? I’m a cleric, you know, and a far better one than him. I probably could turn Vol to ashes in seconds were she to attack Flamekeep.”

Orilam waited for the Keeper of the Flame to finish her rants before continuing calmly. “Tyrian and his fellows stormed the castle in the glowing chasm, and managed to kill an aged green dragon there last night with little trouble. Sovelom, the kobold, mentioned that he might be Vol’s father.

“This morning, they clambered to the top of the spire and confronted Vol herself. It seems Vol was prepared for them, and had an illusion of the Lord of Blades ready. She also disguised herself as a little undead girl trapped by circumstances. Tyrian immediately reacted the illusory Lord of Blades the way he does to any powerful melee combatant–wrapping them in a blanket of solid fog, before repeatedly blasting with area effect spells.”

“Hah! Sounds like Tyrian, all right. I’ll bet he was pissed after realizing he wasted all those spells.”

“Indeed he was, Your Grace, but that was not the worst of it. Vol surprised the group by flicking an antimagic ray at Nebu, the war weaver, and suppressing his magical abilities. Tyrian turned to face Vol, and consecutively threw an iceball, a fireball, and a cacophonic burst at her, only to have much of the damage mitigated by contingent resist energy spells. Teferi, the gnome, managed to dispel most of Vol’s effects afterwards, but Tyrian was already about out of spells.”

“Wait… but Vol’s a lich. Isn’t she immune to cold damage then?”

“The resist cold spell was but a ruse to encourage Tyrian to continue using ice spells.”

“Oh. Hmph! If Tyrian had actually attended that class Blaze planned for him, then he’d have known.”

“Vol had also casted another spell on most of the group, which sent many of them to attacking indiscriminately. It was quite a struggle, but the jade phoenix mage, Siivrell, finally managed to subdue Vol.”

“A jade phoenix mage, you say? Wow, Tyrian has sure found himself quite a competent group. Vol will show up again at some point, being a lich, but hopefully it’ll be after we smash the warforged armies. So, what’s Tyrian up to now?”

“He’s re-supplying with his comrades.”

“Oh, you mean he’s here in Flamekeep right now! I’m sorry! I should’ve asked you some other time. Run along and go spend time with him!”

Player’s Notes:

Gyah. How was I supposed to know the DM would give the BBEG not 1 but 5 contingent resist energy spells?

Same trick won’t work twice though.

Adventure: Into the Maw
Session: 2007-05-27
Player: Bob Cordwell
PC: Teferi
Status: Telepath 5/Thrallherd 2/Anarchic Initiate 1/Thrallherd +1

A note to all my fellow psions: Some of you, in your desire to take a powerful thrall to serve you faithfully, have found that not only does your thrall come, but tens if not hundreds of commoners respond to your psychic calls and pledge to serve you faithfully, even to the point that they will run off a cliff, carry zombies, or sacrifice themselves to vampires if so ordered. And the worst part is, even if you manage to rid yourself of their unwanted affections, they will simply return a day later.

But despair not, my brothers. For in this message I will instruct you in a myriad of ways to utilize your believers to the best of your ability.

  1. Use them as scouts: If you asked 30 evil overlords what they had for hobbies, 29 of them would say: “designing dungeons.” Most evil overlords find that getting groups of monsters of similar power and abilities to spend their days cooped up in a fortress/dungeon/ruined tower waiting to pounce on adventurers and take their stuff both personally and sexually gratifying. Ever wonder where all of those slightly worn rings of protection +2 come from? Eventually, your standard evil overlord realizes that, not only does merely having groups of monsters throw themselves at adventurers get boring after a while, it pisses off the local Monsters Guild when the well-equipped and well-prepared adventurers survive their random attacks. So, he turns to more subtle abilities: traps and ambushes.

    Alas, while most evil overlords will post a large and angry guard at the entrance to take care of local peasants, few consider that the party raiding their dungeon might consist of more than 4-6 individuals of similar power levels. And why bother with Disable Device when 99% of all magic traps are set to trigger when something walks past. For, in the mind of the evil overlord, the poor peasant walking forward is just as worthy of 24d6 damage from a maximized falling block of doom as the frenzied berserker. And, with a few cheap illusions, potential assassins might not realize that the solitary, square-jawed warrior emitting magical auras is not actually carrying expensive magical items, but rather a few contingent fireballs set to trigger on his untimely demise.

  2. Use them as sacrifices: On my most recent adventure, I felt the pull of a strange magical aura, a greater consumptive field which would undoubtedly have destroyed those with weak wills and even weaker hit points. Fortunately, I am not evil and therefore required to care slightly about the lives of my believers and therefore did not order them ahead of me. Also, they can’t fly. While those of you with the evil mastermind bent may be planning on how to best incorporate such fields into your dungeons now, those of you who are pragmatic adventurers may realize that, should your groups of believers die, their deaths may as well have some meaning, even if it’s only temporary hit points and caster levels for a friend.

  3. Use them as specialty tools: through psychic reformation, we hold the power to reshape not only our own minds, but the minds of others. This mysterious ability allows us to grant others the power to do things we know nothing about ourselves, as revealed by this recent exchange:
    • Me: Alice, since I want to preserve an alignment which doesn’t involve the rest of the party trying to kill me, I will be uniquely merciful and allow you guys to accompany me on our next adventure. Now, fly that air skiff while my friends teleport me to go and sleep.
    • Alice: First, my name’s not Alice, it’s John Smithson. Secondly, I don’t know how.
    • Me: *sigh* Alice, I thought that you guys were supposed to be fanatical. “In response to my psychic call” or something like that. Also, how am I supposed to remember your names when they keep changing like that?
    • Alice: Yes, master.
    • Me: *bamf*
    • Alice: Yes, master, I can now fly an air skiff perfectly. Watch me!

    The potential for using these “feats” is still unrealized, but it seems unusually strong in those believers who are flawed in some way or another.

  4. Use them as psions: One power I recently discovered was metaconcert, which allows me and up to 9 psions to join our energies together to create a single, powerful entity, capable of breaking through wills and fortitudes with 45% more effectiveness. Don’t have psions? With a bit of psychic retraining, anyone can awaken to unknown psionic talent. Sadly, due to my repeated mentions of this as a strategy, evil overlords will be sure to employ countermeasures.

  5. Use them to throw things: Anybody can throw rocks, right? What about rocks with magical runes written on them? Sounds good to me!

  6. Use them as bargaining chips:
    • “So, Mr. Vampire, you want to help us, right?”
    • “Of course I do, noble adventurers”
    • “So, you like warm blood, right?”
    • “Gimme gimme gimme”
    • “Ok, then help us against our enemies, and I’ll provide you with all the food you want.”

    Sadly, my fellow adventurers are all worried about morals and such things, and this turned out very differently. Also, vampires are treacherous scum.

  7. Use them for anything remotely dangerous. No longer must “I don’t know what this does, but I’m going to test it” be followed by “so, um, you have another use of last breath today?”

As the moons drew ever-closer in the sky, now almost as black as night, the adventurers were feeling increasingly worn-down. Their telepath, Teferi, had expended his last psionic energies targeting his friends, who he had been enchanted into thinking were Vol; his thrall Ankya had fallen to the same fate, only realizing her error after a flying charge sent her colliding with Siivrell, leaving the latter much worse for the encounter. Nebu still stood around helplessly, encased in his own personal antimagic field. Tyrian had expended his most powerful spells, many of them uselessly being countered by Vol’s immunities and resistances. And although Sovelom’s dragonmark-derived weather powers had devastated the battlefield, he too was running low on his reserves. Only the monk, Mike, and the jade phoenix mage Siivrell were still at almost full strength, grim determination showing in both of their faces.

Vol, conversely, had only grown more intimidating as the battle progressed. Her draconic features were now more prominent, with skeletal dragonbone poking through her cheeks and shoulder blades. Her lone emerald claw had grown into a monstrously large talon, and her eyes were filled entirely with a violent green glow. Gone was the innocent girl clutching her stuffed dragon and pleading with the adventurers to help save her; in her place stood a malevolent necromancer, her undead visage twisted into a mask of hatred and spite.


In the background, the activity above the emerald cauldron grew ever-more frenzied, with sparks of arcane energy and twisted, ghostly shapes spiraling out and into the sky through the blackened cloud funneling down. The immense Mark of Death, flush with necromantic power, writhed and twisted in the air above it, as if it were eagerly awaiting the death of the combatants below.

Suddenly, with a great cry, Siivrell leaped directly at Vol—still partially concealed by Sovelom’s sleet storm—bringing down her intelligent blade in one mighty, reckless swing. The lich tried to twist aside and bring up her magical defenses, but to no avail—Eiryavel had struck true. Ancient bones snapped and rotting flesh fell away as the sword continued its merciless path through Vol’s body, and with her last words she screamed out a curse in a foul language whose very words were filled with malice, spite, and treachery. As the strike came and the words of Vol’s curse echoed in the heads of all assembled, the blackened cloud funneling down into the cauldron from the Mournland sky split into three tendrilous parts. In rapid succession they wrapped themselves around the pieces of Vol’s body, snaking around her and drawing her into the air—and into the cauldron.

As the adventurers stared on in amazement, the three moons came into alignment, with the foremost blotting out the sky with its inky blackness. With a final surge of energy, the pulsing Mark of Death exploded brilliantly, funneling its power into the cauldron alongside Vol’s body. The cauldron gave a mighty shudder and with the sound of thousands of screaming voices, expelled its final creation into the sky: an enormous dragon, skeletal and black, with a green sheen on its wings. The beast gave out a mighty roar toward the sky, then spiraled off to the southwest, just as the cauldron crumbled into a mound ash.

A few moments of stunned silence passed as the group took in the magnitude of the events they had witnessed—and indeed, had set in motion. Their thoughts were interrupted by a ray of sunlight that fell into the middle of the chamber. Startled, they looked up into a sky that, surprisingly, was blue and full of hope.


Far to the north, in a cold fortress on a frozen island in the Lhazaar Principalities, a skeletal figure slowly faded into existence. As soon as she was able, the lich queen angrily lashed out at her nearest available attendant, paralyzing him in place and then tearing his head off with one mighty blow of her emerald claw. As her gaunt skin stretched over her jawbones into something resembling a smile, she thought to herself: Heh. The stuffed dragon trick… gets them every time. Pulling herself upright, she paused for a moment. A pity about good old dad, though. That will be a costly mistake to correct.

Descending from her throne, Vol contemplated her next move in the centuries-long game she played, even as she began the rituals for a spell to bring her father’s remains back to her.

Adventure: Before the Storm, Into the Maw
Session: 2007-05-19, 2007-05-27
Player: Michael Busch
PC: Anethilzair Mykispar (Mike)
Status: Monk 11

The wind whispers through the branches of an oak tree in the forest to the west of the lightning-rail line on the Thrane–Mournland border.

I’m sorry I couldn’t talk earlier. The Blood of Vol is pretty busy over here.

I’m above the Glowing Chasm. Blaze (you saw him leaving in a hurry, remember?) asked that we check out reports of Vol raising undead to fuel the Blade Army. Vol has built a castle across the Chasm, and is using it to churn out undead. We’re working our way through it: Vol’s father was guarding the inside the door, and was killed by Tyrian (the firebrand—yes, I know you don’t like his style), Sovalem (Blaze got her raised from the dead—yes, she. Accident with an elemental), the gnome, and the warweaver.

I don’t know if Vol herself is here or not: I came outside so that the wind could whisper. Give my respects to House Sivis for setting up this call. We’ve got time: please, what’s happening at home?

Alia took over the ziggurat? I guess she liked all the skeletons. She should be a better neighbor than Lucan: no running out at night and sucking innocent blood and no battles with adventurers. But if she becomes a nuisance to you, let me know.

The psion turned on his mindlink, and I just became invisible. Combat seems likely. I have to head back now.

I’ll be careful, and I’ll come back in the same body. I promise.

***

For those of you that have been confused by the recent posts: I had Mike take Nymph’s Kiss as one of his exalted feats. This has the role-playing requirement that he “maintain an intimate relationship with a good-aligned fey.” Hence he knows a Dryad, who calls him via House Sivis in the middle of battle. Yes, I had to leave for a dinner meeting, but this works well and ties up the fate of the necromancer, since Catherine couldn’t make the game.

Adventure: Before the Storm, Into the Maw
Session: 2007-05-19
Player: Rachel Reddick
PC: Silverwind Siivrell
Status: Warblade 1/Wizard 5/Jade Phoenix Mage 4

“To the ziggurat! Care to come along?” Somehow, Siivrell convinced the timid halfling named Cade to join her on her phantom steed, chasing after another rider who probably had the same destination in mind.

It’s a good thing you’ve got this fellow along. I think he’s a healer.

Oh?

From what I recall of what Watcher said to you, the last bunch of adventurers to go after these vampires got burned–

Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.

I always have to worry about it. Every time you get killed, I get stuck in somebody’s attic or a deep dungeon for a couple of decades, collecting dust and cobwebs.

Psh. Oh, here’s that rider.

Introductions were exchanged. The other rider was Tyrian, and he, too, was after the vampires. Soon thereafter, though limited by the pace of Tyrian’s merely magebred mount, we arrived at the ziggurat and its bonefield.

Those bones definitely weren’t here last time.

You don’t think…

I doubt a couple of vampires have one of those for a pet. Besides, it would have eaten the adventurers before they got to the vampires. Speaking of whom–

A simply-dressed human was leaning against an oak tree outside the bone field. Near him were a gnome and a slightly menacing orc.

I don’t like the looks of that orc.

Oh, shush, Eiryavel. They’ve been instrumental in defending Eberron.

And this one may be mental.

If you say so.

More introductions took place. Mike, Teferi and Ankya. Another person was there, a Karrnathi war weaver named Nebu. He had the blue eyes of an azurin.

The Karrnathi are idiots. You should never send a war weaver alone to deal with an issue. They’re best for supporting others.

True.

Although it is good that he’s here. Maybe you wouldn’t die so frequently if we worked with war weavers more often.

Hey! I can handle myself just fine!

Only so long as you aren’t cornered by five warforged an hour before reinforcements are due.

That wasn’t my fault.

Mm-hm…

The group entered the ziggurat, and quickly reached the vampiric Antinua. Siivrell stepped into the room after Tyrian released his spells upon the undead elf.

Siivrell, going first isn’t such a good idea… remember when–

Gah!

A spell caused a bunch of tentacles to sprout from the ground and grabbed Siivrell. A spell by Nebu caused her to swap places with the monk.

Was that really necessary? I could have dimension doored out myself.

They just wanted you out, and someone who could grapple in.

But it’s implying that I couldn’t have gotten myself out. Ugh.

A few seconds later, Tyrian had reduced Antinua to vapor and trapped her in a stone hemisphere.

That Tyrian is efficient. And you’re the only one who got hurt at all.

I’ll admit, I’m impressed. Well, that’s done.

Wait. Wasn’t there another vampire?

The voice of Lucan Stellos spoke, offering a compromise. The amulet that Blaze had gave the bearer the ability to control the powerful vampires of the world. Lucan wanted the amulet — and thereby, his freedom. A debate raged between the adventurers; Tyrian explained that Blaze was trying to destroy the item, and would not give it up, especially to Lucan. Someone asked what Lucan would consume to survive; he was unwilling to give up the blood of people for that of animals.

“You could always just use my followers,” offered Teferi.

The monk objected. Smack. A fight seemed iminent.

I agree with the monk, but I think it’s time for you to intervene, Eiryavel.

Finally.

Siivrell drew me in an instant, and held me between them. “If you continue with this,” I said, “you will only be proving my belief that all creatures with legs are idiots.”

Nice. But what about me, hm?

Oh, I already know you’re an idiot.

Hmph. It took you seven millenia to come to that conclusion?

No, about seven seconds.

And you’re still around?

It’s what I was made for. You do realize we’ve had this conversation before, right?

Should I remember every argument we’ve had in the past seven millenia?

Well, I certainly–what’s that?

Lucan had come down from the ceiling, and had tried to attack Tyrian. Tyrian was quick, and trapped Lucan in a web spell. The position for negotiating improved considerably.

“Just kill me now and get it over with.”

That’s a little pessimistic.

He was made a vampire against his will, and we can’t change that, except by killing him. You expect rays of sunshine from him?

Not particularly.

Besides, he’s a vampire. Undead are not proper living creatures.

You’re an undead-bane weapon. Of course you think that. But what is the just action here? What is fair to him, and still protects the innocent? I don’t remember any precedent for this.

There was one time when– oh.

With the agreement of the others, Teferi used his mental powers to open up a hole to the outside — letting the sun fall on Lucan, utterly destroying him. After two hours had elapsed, Antinua’s vapors also faded into nothing.

***

The group then returned to Flamekeep. Cade had seen enough fighting, and sensibly returned to the quiet wilderness he had been wandering before. Most of the group teleported; some of Teferi’s followers slowly and unskillfully flew an airskiff that had belonged to the adventuring party’s remnants, which we had now supplemented. Siivrell rode her phantom steed.

That monk seemed very fond of that oak tree near the ziggurat. Didn’t you notice?

No. Maybe he just likes trees.

Maybe. Wait, weren’t we supposed to turn right here?

No, left.

No, the next turn’s a left.

Hm. Maybe you’re right. Oh, well, we’ll just take a left at the next crossroads.

No, right! I said right!

I’m right, you say?

Why do you insist on misinterpreting what I say?

Because it’s fun. So quit trying to hold the reins.

I can’t hold anything.

Then I guess I’ll just have to do it.

***

Blaze listened to the information of the completed mission, and gave another: to track down Vol and her supporters in the Mournland, determine the nature of her arcane experiments… and stop them, before they were used to crush Thrane.

After gathering supplies, the party gathered on the newly-returned airskiff, now captained by Sovalem, a half-elf turned kobold and compatriot of Blaze who had been raised from the dead.

***

On the way to the Mournland, aboard the airskiff…

We’ve met Vol before, haven’t we?

Yes… about seven hundred years ago.

Pretty recently then. Let me think. It was us and a few others, and we confronted her when… oh, that one didn’t go so well, did it?

Not really. It’s a good thing Verall escaped, or I’d be in the hands of the Blood of Vol.

Not a pleasant thought.

Especially if you’re an undead-bane weapon who was a breath away from being owned by a bunch of powerful undead types.

Well, we’ll just have to make sure we finish what we’re doing, then.

At least Vol probably won’t recognize you. Just be careful.

Yes, getting killed again now would be inconvenient.

***

After traveling in the Mournlands to the glowing chasm, we found a great black fortress that spanned the chasm, blocking the glowing lava from view.

“That fortress was definitely not here before the day of Mourning.”

The airskiff swept in. After confronting and defeating a flying undead creature, an upper entrance was selected. Four of the five guards were silenced, and quickly killed; the fifth was dominated by Teferi, questioned for details of the fortress, including where he was not permitted to go and the password to enter, then knocked unconcious by the monk. To fascilitate our passage, Nebu made us invisible and silent, and Teferi bound us all with a mindlink. He neglected to include me, but I expected as much.

In the next room, we encountered a green dragon.

“Unholy father of Vol!” said Sovalem through the mindlink. Of course, dragons can see right through invisibility…

We withdrew, and the war weaver worked his magic. When we were ready, we entered. The dragon had prepared defensive spells as well, but Nebu quickly wiped them away. Vol’s father breathed acid at the other half of the party; Tyrian trapped him with web. Then Sovalem and Ankya struck him with lightning and greataxe, and he perished. A warrior entered the room, and would have left to sound the alarm, but Tyrian quickly turned him to ashes.

Entering that passage, we found a cluster of undead. Tyrian scorched one, and the others dealt with another; as for the other two…

That was a great deal of fun.

Fun? And you’re always trying to tell me not to get so excited about combat?

They’re undead.

And smacking undead is what you’re made for.

Exactly.

Player’s Notes

This should be an amusing way of writing up events… hm. As from sword’s perspective, plus tidbits of telepathic conversation.

That, and this party is currently pretty wicked in terms of damage output. Thanks in large part to the war weaver, Matt’s new character. I get this funny feeling that Domenic is going to pull out some interesting villains…