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Adventure Log V
From the Journals of Lexington Cheshire:
Fate can turn the oddest collection of individuals into a team. Sometimes fate does this better than other times.
After my long day of meeting up with Uncle Cardelle, dealing with the Innkeeper Jalizar Saul, and wandering lost through the streets of Deeptown, I finally made my way to dinner, ready to meet my companions and fill
them in on what I learned.
They were nowhere to be found. After a little sitting around and waiting, Jalizar gave me word that Pilfrey and Crystal (and that bizarre intelligent construct) had found business that would keep them busy for an
indefinite time. Gunter of course could have been anywhere doing anything, so I quit waiting and had my dinner and thought about my next move. Just as I was putting the finishing touches on a surprisingly tasty
roast something (knowing the way of the White Horse, I had decided against asking the exact identity of the meat), fate decided for me.
From the corner of my eye I noticed activity; at the threshold of the inn, a group of orcs were pointing my way and jabbering to a half-breed. I stood and approached them and the orcs began to cringe. The half-breed,
human and orc, pointed at me with a look of disbelief on his face. "Him?" he said.
"Problem?" I asked in the orc tongue that the late #1 had taught me. The orcs didn’t stay to answer, but the half-orc, the tallest I’d ever seen, stared at me and asked, "Are you Ogre-magi?"
This was not a question to be discussed on the street. I told the stranger as much and suggested we go someplace to trade stories. Some tales of my experience in the Dungeons of Quasqueton had leaked this far and I
was anxious to know what rumor was saying about me.
The half-orc introduced himself as Grolsch and suggested a place to drink and speak. It was then that another voice spoke up, in the distinct accent of a dwarf. We turned to see a dwarf covered in tattoos, and with a
most exquisite crystalline amulet, who introduced himself as Kessan and said if there was going to be drinking going on he wanted to be a part of it. There was no good reason not to, but just as I agreed my
attention was stolen.
A short man was charging toward out little trio, weapon in hand. Caught flat footed, I had only just pulled my bastard sword free of the scabbard when he attacked -- the orc that was sneaking up behind me! The orc
staggered backward, but before the cowardly little bastard could be killed the city watch rode up. I blinked in amazement as they simply took the orc away without harassing or asking for a graft from the rest of us.
I thank the newcomer, who turned out to be an elf by the name of Coacila Blackheart. Naturally he was invited to the impromptu drinking fest. He certainly wanted to come along, "wherever the cleric goes,"
he said, pointed at Grolsch. I hadn’t realized the half-orc was any sort of cleric, I certainly saw no holy (or unholy) symbol, but there are more little cults around this town than I could keep up with.
Grolsch led us to a dingy, even by Deeptown standards, little tavern called The Roach Mill. Over the first round he explained that there had been an exodus of orcs from that dungeon, all of them spreading tales of an
ogre-magi that had invaded and killed there queen and began a war between the various residents of those buried halls. I confessed I wasn’t an ogre-magi, but at the time it had seemed a good falsehood to support.
Coacila demanded the full tale, and he and Grolsch seemed bizarrely delighted at the queen’s decapitation and subsequent use as a head-on-a pike terror device.
There stories were remarkably similar. Wanderers all for one reason or another. I suppose I may be similarly classified and so I considered asking if they might be interested in coming with me on a return venture to
that dungeon I’d been coerced into leaving by my companions who had since left me. (I had no small worry that they had decided to return without me).
That was when the old man began jabbering, loudly, to another in the tavern. His sheer volume stole our attention and we saw he was addressing a small woman wrapped in the sort of shadowy cloak preferred
by rogues. Clearly the old man believed this woman was either shadowing the four of us, or playing rear guard. Just like the stories of Gax, he was a loony patron with a job for some mercenaries. And he had
set his sights on us.
The woman denied being with us, but when we invited the old man to come and speak with us directly she decided to join our table. That delighted the old man, he felt his suspicion had been proven right, despite
that he also clearly suspected we five were a tight mercenary team while we had all only begun to meet this same hour. If he realized he was mistaken when the woman introduced herself to us as Mazithra Liadon (Maze
for short), he didn’t show it.
The old loony invited us to a secluded room to discuss his proposition at length and with no demands on my time I agreed, as did the others. Once away from the public eye, his demeanor changed. Suddenly he was a
sober and lucid businessman with a problem he thought we could help with. After giving us a vague telling of the problem, we pushed for details that he seemed reluctant to give.
Claiming to be someone connected to the powers that be in Deeptown, the old man explained their current worry. It seems that the happy status quo of the town was being threatened. There were bandit tribes to the east
and west of town that preyed on incoming and outgoing merchants, and whomever else seemed profitable, but both tribes restrained their activities so as not to completely scare away all merchant traffic. Likewise the
abundant churches and temples in Deeptown had a set of rules they played by in order to keep a relative peace within the city limits.
Two new players were coming in to upset this balance: an upstart bandit named Knife Ambrose and an unnamed but presumably evil religious sect. They weren’t going to play by the rules. They were going to ally
and would together have enough strength to eliminate the other two bandit tribes and thus be in a position to do great harm to the livelihood of the Trade Circle that really rules Deeptown. But they hadn’t allied
yet. The old man explained that the two were going to meet in three days and set their alliance in stone.
We were to disrupt the meeting. If we agreed we would be well paid, in a script secured by a temple and in equipment; not to mention the "gratitude of some very powerful people." The whole thing sounded
extremely suspicious to me. I couldn’t escape the feeling we were being set up to take a fall. Nonetheless I agreed, mostly to investigate what a new sect of evil might be doing. The others threw in as well,
and though I suspect they did it for less goodly reasons it hardly mattered. My time with my erstwhile companions had demonstrated that common cause can forge dependable cooperation.
After getting details on the location of this meeting and making a long list of equipment demands, we separated. It would be a day before the equipment could be provided and I wanted to see some people for third
party information on this situation. Maze volunteered to go ahead and scout the location. Grolsch went to his church, which I discovered was an advocate of killing -- regularly. Kessan and Coacila went to join the
revelers of the Festival of Plenty. I headed back to Voodian, but he knew little of what I described, but he did verify Rufus's credentials as someone in touch with the powers of the city.
Cassius, the head priest at the local Church of the Creator had only a little more information. He confirmed that -something- was happening akin towhat I described, he believed the new church was the Sect of Sixty an
undeniable force for evil two acolytes had been sent to investigate.. They were overdue for returning. I promised to seek them out and do all I could to bring them home. I should have requested the boon of a
healing potion.
I briefly saw Coacila and Kessan making their celebrations, and caught sight of Gunter as well. Good to know he stilled lived and hadn’t doubled back to the dungeon. I headed to my room at the White Horse Inn and
slept like the dead. The next morning I spoke briefly with Jalizar, who offered me a fanciful crystal that I recognized as Kessan’s. The disappointed look on his face when I told him, as much was one I’d like a
painting for the wall of my eventual manor.
The four of us finally gathered back at that nasty little tavern and found that Rufus was as good as his word. Fully equipped, including a veritable ton of flammable oils and a dog to carry them, we set off into the
night. Our journey was uneventful until we saw the boats. Drow boats, headed to town and almost taking us on en route. We managed to slip away. On the second leg of the march we came across the dead bodies of the
very acolytes that I’d been told were investigating the mysterious activities of the Sect of Sixty. I buried and said prayers over their mortal remains. Whatever the Sect was starting I would now see finished if it
killed me.
We marched on and the trail developed into something resembling a real road. As we approached a hill we knew we were very close and started keeping a watch for Maze. She found us.
After pulling us into the woods and out of sight of the guards, Maze explained what she had been observing. But only after telling us an entertainingtale. Along the way to the manor she had spied a strange old coot
stealing dung from sleeping travelers and then she had a bizarre encounter, mostly one sided against a trio of orcs, one of whom carried a crossbow without bolts. She then went on to describe her observations at the
manor. These bandits were using an old chateau as a headquarters and had a disciplined regimen of guarding the place. There was a stable at the back and two stories to the chateau. As we discussed possible plans of
attack, there was a rush of activity at the chateau. We scrambled to a position where we could better spy and saw a boat had banked at a nearby river. Three robed figures were aboard, directing the removal of their
cargo -- a tall something well wrapped in cushioning.
Suddenly we had a deadline. At that point we made a disastrous decision. We would attack the chateau from the rear in two groups, take the high ground, take out the leaders, and set the house afire.
Maze, Grolsch, and I were one team, Coacila and Kessan the other -- and the one with most of the oils. We got into positions and Maze spied a pit trap between our position and the house. We made note to avoid it
without considering the implication on a single discovered pit trap. Our pack dog made the connection for us. His advance from cover was the cue for both teams to attack the two guards at the rear of the chateau.
Our dog advanced several paces and fell into an unnoticed pit-trap. Of course there would be more than one. Coacila and Maze and Grolsch made use of their missile weapons, I myself had none. Neither guard was killed
and the alarm went out. To the front of the house the device was being delivered and the robed ones, cleric of the Sect of Sixty presumably, were already in the chateau.
It was time for a change in plan. Unfortunately Maze, Grolsch, and I had no way to inform the others of this. We could only hope they would pick up on it. They didn’t. Kessan followed the original plan and charged.
He avoided a pit trap but was attacked by the guards that had begun streaming from the Chateau, A cleric had also joined in the defense. He sent some unholy miracle to Kessan, but was driven back by a fine bowshot
from Maze.
Maze, Grolsch, and I made our way toward the front of the chateau, I trying to draw any guards while Maze sped with an elf’s speed on ahead. Meanwhile, the guards delivered further harm to Kessan as Coacila
sent oil canister after oil canister to the rear grounds of the chateau. The two of them were finally able to withdraw and move to the front of the building.
We three had made our way there and saw a fearsome sight. The clerics were gathered around the far front corner of the house, chanting, while a second semi-circle of bandits watched with growing looks of terror
on their faces.
Chanting evil clerics only mean one thing: demons, devils, or some other damned creature is being brought into this world. We set forth to interrupt the ceremony. Any disruption of a possible alliance to threaten the
powers of Deeptown was now going to be incidental.
Before we even got close, the first damned thing stepped out of whatever portal the sect was using. It was an eight foot tall thing that vaguely resembled a human but for its fowlish head.
The bandits broke and ran. The demon fowl gave chase and quickly devoured one like a pelican would a fish. And the chanting kept on. Worse was certainly to follow.
It had taken us three that long to run from the tree line to the chateau proper. For bandits they kept massive grounds. We scooted along the wall line to avoid any fire from the second floor windows, and came upon a
window. Maze broke it opened and climbed inside a one-time library. Grolsch followed. In my chainmail I don’t climb into windows well; I continued along the outside.
As Maze began pouring oil inside the library, Grolsch moved on ahead. I came to the front door and found myself face to face with another half-orc. Remembering the terrified cries of the bandits, I attempted a bluff.
"You know they’re trying to kill Knife Ambrose don’t you?"
I was answered with a snarl and, "I’m Knife Ambrose."
My own blade had been drawn since we left the tree line and I introduced the half-orc to it. Unfortunately he was as good or better with his scimitar. We began a long exchange of blows.
By now chaos had fully taken hold of the hilltop. The fowl demon had devoured another few bandits, a black demon dog thing had now come out of the portal, the chanting was -still- continuing, Maze was
trailing oil behind her through the chateau, Grolsch was moving through ahead of her, Coacila and Kessan had come around to the far corner of the building and were preparing to engage.
I began to lose my duel with Knife Ambrose. A little tired from all our running around I could not seem to land an effective blow. And the fowl demon had now run out of bandits to eat and was doubling back to the
chateau. Maze and Grolsch joined the fight, landing a few blows and between the three of us Knife Ambrose finally fell.
Just as the fowl demon reached the scene. And apparently it only cared to consume living prey, which, given my outermost position, meant me. I attempted to dive through a window to escape but wasn’t fast enough. My
jump saved my life, for the moment, for it didn’t swallow me whole as it had the bandits, but its beak struck deep and I collapsed unconscious inside the chateau.
I was so near death I thought I saw the Creator’s face. It turned out to be Grolsch’s. The cleric had stopped my bleeding and performed a healing miracle on my mangled body. I later learned that while I was
unconscious, Kessan and Coacila had engaged the clerics of the sect and disrupted their chants, which let loose the summoned beasts from any control. A second black dog had turned on its summoners. Coacila then made
his way inside the building and was either engaging bandits or seeking shelter from the black dogs.
Maze performed an exquisite trick on the fowl demon. She taunted it through the chateau and into the rear yard, then let it chase her to that pit-trap she had spied earlier. Maze side stepped the trap then turned to
face and further taunted the demon, which jumped to land square before her. Right atop the pit-trap. The demon was sorely wounded by not dead, and Maze made a few more opportunistic attacks on it before learning
that the demon could spit acid and deciding to seek shelter in the trees.
Grolsch meanwhile, performed another miracle on my battered body. I was brought to full consciousness, but was too weary to exert myself and had a deadline on how long even that much energy would last. I began to
ease my way to the portal.
It had begun to spread, after a fashion. The bonework frame of the mirror-portal was spreading, literally growing over the framework of the chateau. Coacila, alas, was the only one of us left in the building. He had
taken a position upstairs, attempting to secure a shelter for us to fall back to. While that was a fine plan in theory, the reality of our circumstances had turned Coacila's plan into a trap from which he barely
escaped -- which itself involved a fall as the growing bone work cut the line he’d secured.
I finally arrived at the portal with Kessan. I had in hand the magic dagger found in the dungeons of Quasqueton, but my strength was fading and with it my wits. I fell back on habit and swung at the portal’s edge
with my bastard sword. There was no effect, not even the sort of mundane damage that such an attack hould deliver. With my last conscious breath I handed the magic dagger to Kessan.
At the rear of the house, the fowl demon and first black hound had gone seeking Maze. They found Coacila, who was coming around to help the outnumbered woman. The elf had a shining moment when, trapped between
the two demon beasts, he positioned himself just so and waited for just the right moment to tumble away. That moment was when the fowl demon spat more acid. It hit the black hound square, killing it instantly.
That still left the worse of the two to deal with. The second black demon hound had chased the surviving clerics into the woods and was nowhere to be seen. Maze pelted the thing with arrows as Coacila tried
desperately to not be eaten.
At the portal, Kessan had struck the edge of the bonework frame with the magic dagger and chipped some of the frame, and sent a shockwave ripple through the ether. He and Grolsch exchanged the dagger back and forth
in a race to disrupt the portal before the growing bonework encompassed the entire chateau. There was no doubt that would mean something horrible with disastrous immediate and long-range effects.
Little by little the pair chipped away, and then Grolsch remembered the magic he’d detected on Knife Ambrose's body included the scimitar (no wonder he was able to land such decisive blow upon me). The bandit
leader's magic scimitar delivered considerably more damage to the portal, but time was still growing very short.
For Coacila it had already run out. The Devilish bird had finally managed to land a hard blow on the elf. While Maze, from a nearby treetop, continued to distract it with arrows and gave Coacila time to drink the
potion he’d been carrying. He didn’t know what it was and was praying it was a healing potion.
It wasn’t. It was a potion of levitation. As Coacila fell unconscious the potion worked its magic and his body floated upward, beyond all hope of aid.
When a man is bleeding while under the magic of levitation, the blood does not fall. It lingers in the air like a wet, scarlet cloud.
At the portal, Kessan and Grolsch hacking at the portal edge, but their efforts seemed like too little too late. Then Kessan must have called up every ounce of dwarven resolve. He swung and made the decisive blow,
cutting deep into the bonework and splintering it.
The entire house quivered and collapsed in a heap of bone dust. Anything inside had been transformed to that same damned substance and was so much dust as well. Maze continued to fire arrows into the fowl creature,
hurting it but not killing it. Kessan still filled with vigor from destroying the mirror, fired a crossbow bolt at the fowl beastie and ended its reign of terror.. Grolsch reported a sighting of the second black
devil hound; it had poked its evil head out of the woods long enough to see the destruction and turned around.
I finally returned to consciousness, relieved to be alive but angry that I had missed the spectacle. None of us were in any condition to head back to Deeptown immediately, and we needed to wait for the magic to
expire from Coacila’s corpse. We rounded up the only two horses left from the stable and worked to decide when we would move.
We had won, after a fashion. We had a single casualty, but we could have done better. It was greed that had undone us. The full day required to round up our extensive equipment demands could have been
spent in observing the chateau and planning a better attack. Sneaking in under cover of night perhaps. But that’s spilt milk gone sour. I just hope I’ve learned something.
Lexington Cornelious Cheshire
Day 6, Month of the Octagon, The year Despair.
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