Geneva Scales of War

An Old Man's Story

Sitting in a small shop, an elderly male human sat on a chair in the tannery surrounded by Human and Dwarven children… “So it’s a story you want, eh?” looking at the children’s hopeful looks, he grinned. “Well then, let’s see if old Nevran can still entertain you, you see it all happened before any of you were born…”

The battle of Overlook had been won. The people were ecstatic and a huge feast and holiday was declared, at least those that were left alive. For a brief time, the survivors of overlook were able to forget about their troubles and celebrate the fact that they were alive, and that their homes were either intact or could be rebuilt.

The Wayfarers were heroes, something Mako never expected nor wanted to be. He saw himself as a follower, someone that did things that needed to be done because no one else could. Tales of the final battle had begun to spread and grow with each telling. His wife, Ana was particularly irate when she had heard the story of him leaping out of a second story window, landing on the back of the undead dragon. That story in particular had grown out of control. Shaking his head, they practically had him slaying it single handedly. He was just happy to be alive… alive and reunited with his family. But there was still work do be done. Ana was busy helping tend to the many wounded teaching her craft to their daughter Krissiana. But as always, the multitudes of Mercenary bands that had made up Zitheran’s army had not all left, some of these Mercenary bands had turned to brigandry preying on the merchants coming to and from Overlook until such time as they were either caught or had made the money promised to them for fighting.

Thus it was three days after the victory that Mako had found himself in the company of the Shadar-Kai that he had fought side by side with harassing the would-be invaders. It was tasked to them to hunt down and stop these brigands and ensure safe passage to and from overlook.

You see, this was actually the second invasion that Mako had fought in, the first being when Azarr Kul had invaded the Elsir Valley. So Mako had plenty of experience in fighting, but it was under the guidance of the Shadar-Kai that Mako learned to better track his prey.

One particular mercenary group had proven troublesome… they called themselves Kulspawn. And indeed they were led by a man that was rumored to have dragon blood in his veins and claimed to be the son of Azarr Kul himself. It wasn’t for money that this band took the job, it was for revenge.

It took several months of cat and mouse, between the Kulspawn and Mako’s band of Shadar-Kai. There were some clashes here and there, between the two groups but the Kulspawn were always able to somehow flit away in the darkness. It was during this time that the Shaddar-Kai helped train Mako to be able to see better than most other humans, perhaps they used a bit of their magic ways on him, but he was now able to see with the aid of a half-moon as well as if it were full daylight.

With his increased vision, and tracking abilities… Mako soon found the Kulspawn camp. Despite being night time, Mako and the Shadar-kai decided to attack the camp. Unfortunately it was a trap by the Kulspawn. Mako was a flurry of activity, stabbing an Orc charging him with an arrow, only to knock it and shoot another Orc that had knocked down one of his Shaddar-Kai allies. He moved so fast that enemies next to him never got an opportunity to attack him as he released arrow after arrow.

Mako and the Shadar-Kai managed to fight off their ambushers, who turned and fled. But the Kulspawn, they haven’t bothered the roads around Overlook or been seen in the Elsir Valley since…

There was a bang at the door as a woman entered the tannery, eying the old man surrounded by children. “More stories, father? It’s time for the children to go home… it’s dinner time and your folks will be worried.” As she watched the children go, one of them stopped and looked back, “Thanks, Nevran… next time could you tell us the story of when Mako killed the dragon? It’s my favorite!” Receiving a look that could have slayed Zithran himself, the old man could only chuckled “What, can’t an old man be proud of his son-in-law?”

Orsik Oakenshield: Hammer of Moradin

After the battle of Overlook feeling like he could best serve his God and his people Orsik decided to stay on and help in the rebuilding effort and the routing out of any remaining fiends. Never having been the best at labour(by dwarven standards) Orsik led several campaigns to destroy the enemies of Moradin and in doing so realized that his true calling was not to officiate ceremonies but to route out evil and protect his people and his allies,with the blessing of high priest Durkik, Orsik sets forward on his quest a Hammer of Moradin.

He's the one that wants to hit him in the backside, and I'm the one that catches all the gay jokes.

Days pass in our defense of Overlook. Kah took to climbing towers and raining fire down on any trolls he could see. Arranis inspired the citizen-soldiers, irregulars, and militia to fight the good fight, training them in close combat. He waded into battle, leading from the front. Orsik, with an odd speech on radishes, rallied the regular army of Overlook. He became a front-line triage healer. Mako took charge of the Shadar-Kai, and slipped into the forest around the city, harassing the foe from behind, setting traps. Using himself as bait, his commandos lured trolls and orcs into ambushes. And me? I was everywhere. Rallying citizens to defend their homes. Comforting widows. Appraising the gear of the fallen (and turning it over to Kalad. Don’t look at me like that, Arranis). Comforting young, nubile maidens. With the help of the Lost Ones, moving battle-worn troops from danger. Comforting the women of the guard. Convincing a band of orcs their day was lost and they needed to surrender. And so on…

Although the first wall was breached, after three or four days of almost non-stop fighting, only crossing paths once in a great while, we managed to push the humanoid army from the second wall. On the morning of the sixth day of the Siege of Overlook, we all found ourselves in the council chambers, sharing stories and debriefing. Mako reported that over half the humanoids had been routed; that they were a mercenary force, not the work of one nation; and their general rode an undead dragon, but had not yet shown himself. Midway through our debriefing, Chancellor Morgath arrive, bearing the news that a squad sent to investigate report of a breach in the western wall had not returned, and we were to investigate.

We arrived to the city quarter identified by Morgath. At one time, this was perhaps a well-groomed neighborhood; now the bodies of Overlook’s fallen were scattered everywhere. Two draconians with their pet firebelcher* were looting the remains. AS the battle turned our way, an unworldly screech echoed through the neighborhood. Zithran’s abomination mount appeared from behind a building and perched atop its smoldering roof. A pack of wolves at the general’s call rushed toward us, and we entered the final battle of the Siege of Overlook. Taunted by the githyanki, Arranis charged, screaming vengeance for his fallen family. The battle ensued. It was Mako who scored the death blow on the general, however, after engaging the dragon on the rooftops and falling through to the room below.

  • Kah helped me go through basic “identify the body” skills after the battle. We walked through Overlook and he quizzed me, pointing at a body and asking, “And THAT one?”

“Uhhh…I know this one! Hobgoblin?”

That was three months ago. After being hailed as the Heroes of Overlook, celebrated and rewarded (in EVERY way we wanted), we went our separate ways. I was convinced I was done with crawling through dungeons, traveling with unwashed companions, or stabbing someone, being whipped, or getting bitten on a regular basis. I returned home. I figured I should check on the nervous little fop we rescued from the dopplegangers, let my father know I was alive, and I was sure this reputation would clear me with Celia’s father. Well…I was part right. Celia’d married some prince out of Aerdy, so I was clear there. My father…well, he immediately put me to work in the merchant house. At least that little fop was grateful, and got me in to all the social events of the season. And there was a whole new crop of merchants’ daughters and now bored wives to try. But, that lasted less than a month. I got bored. About two weeks in, I found myself filching from other guild houses as I snuck out in the middle of the night. Three weeks, and I was following thieves’ guild members, talking them out of their gains, and breaking back into houses to return it. By week four, I was gone. It started simply enough. I chatted up a tiefling amazon in chainmail that could not have offered any real armor protection. Two days later, I woke up in the back of a cart headed west. No idea how I got there. No one else knew, either, but when we were set upon by highwaymen, my presence was appreciated. I joined up with the outriders of the guard, became their “face” and spent the next two months talking or way into and out of trouble with paranoid town watches, angry guildmasters and the occasional angry father. As we continued west, I realized exactly where I was headed, which I how I ended up sitting here, in the House of Sleep, drinking an ale and wondering when everyone else is going to show up.

Arannis' Paragon Story

The celebration was great, and well it should have been. The good people of Overlook had defended themselves and emerged from the siege victorious. So the revelry lasted well into the night and on through the next couple of days. But for Arannis the time was bitter sweet and filled with a sense of melancholy.
Arannis and the other Wayfarers had defeated General Zithran and his army, avenging the murders of much of Arannis’ family, as Zithran had been the one who had called for their assassination. But even now as Arannis held the head of his enemy in his hands a sense of incompleteness loomed like a presence over Arannis and caused him to be unable to participate in the celebration of Overlook. So, early on the morning of the second day of celebration, Arannis packed his horse and left the gates of Overlook to go to the West, to go to the island of Evermeet, the last destination for Fey and especially Elven kind.
To “go to the West” in Eladrin terms is a colloquialism for moving to the end of one’s existence, and Arannis contemplates this as his possibility. “I have spent so much of my life seeking this vengeance, I don’t know that I know how to go on from here”, Arannis kept thinking to himself as he followed the setting sun day after day as he journeyed to the Green Isle. “The desire to see this wrong to me and my family righted has driven me for so long, it was my purpose.” “Now that I have defeated this enemy of my house is there a further purpose to my life, or is it my time to go on and be reunited to my mother in the shadow land beyond.” A warrior is only able to go on when he is driven by a sense that he has advisories before him to conquer, and as it sits now, Arannis had focused so much on this revenge being his purpose in life that now that it was gone he felt adrift unable to anchor onto a new future.
After a few days of chasing the sun Arannis arrived at Evermeet. Immediately upon arriving at the holy island, Arannis feels compeled to enter the Temple of the Seldarine in the city of Leuthilspar. Arannis is drawn to the chapel of Corellon by a force he does not recognize outright, but for some reason has his trust. There is a faint familiarity to the feeling, the force that draws him into the alabaster room. And there at the altar in the center of the raised Dias, Arannis collapses to his knees weeping, his sword in one hand and the head of General Zithran, the murderer of his family in another.
For days Arannis stays at the altar, taking no food or drink fading in and out revere. Fitful dreams and memories dash in and out of his tortured mind. Image of brothers and sisters, flames dancing across his vision, a house collapsing and a single pillar rising out of the ash. Finally after three days of shadow and whispers, a new vision comes to Arannis. A silver star crashes out of the sky and falls to the earth, it’s white glow spreads from the horizon to fill the whole of the earth. Arannis knows that where ever that glows covers it is protected by the power of Fey being, empowered by something of the Fey, but even greater than any one Fey being alone. It is in its way the embodiment of all Fey.
Arannis woke from this vision as alert as he had in many days to another presence that caused him to doubt his own sanity. There before him stood the spirit of his mother. “My son, why is your soul downcast?” “It is not your time to go to the West.” “It is your time now to go unto the earth and protect it.” “ You my son are now Shiere Knight.” “You my son are the embodiment of Fey and strive to protect all who need you to do so.” “My son I am so proud of you.” With that another flash of silver light and a voice calls down from on high, “Rise Arannis, Shiere Knight of the Fey.”
Arannis exits the Temple of the Seldarine to the streets of Leuthilspar and the crowds stop their movement and stare at the newly Emerged Shiere Knight, the first in several generations of the Eladrin. Arannis stands at the steps of the temple a cool silver glow seeming to eminate from within him as an eldritch wind seems to stirs his long silver locks, visible signs that he has been chosen to bear the title. Just then a runner emerges from the crowd and kneels at Arannis’ feet. “Sir knight” the runner says, “dwarves are at the shore of Evermeet looking for thee.” “They say they were sent by the other Wayfarers, you are needed.” With That Arannis has found his purpose.

"If you're doing half damage to the Mrs., you're not hitting hard enough!"

The morning before the Battle of Overlook, no siege engines had been spotted outside the city walls, but magic and muscle clearly ruled the surrounding countryside. The hills, fields, and forests (what one old-timer on the guard described as generic Oerth countryside—just like every other environs surrounding every other city in every other kingdom on our world) were being ravage by the coming army. From his perch atop the walls, Arranis estimated their numbers in the thousands.

Arranis began his day early, heading to a contact he had in town. All I could get on this contact was that he enjoyed the occasional “goat-based beverage.” (Really? That sounds too disgusting even for a goblin to drink.) He of the flouncing silvery locks reported back that there was no proof the invasion was the work of Zithran, but logic would dictate such. Arranis also said that his contact had no idea why Overlook would be invaded; it simply seemed illogical, and that his contact was caught off guard by this force. If the contact was unaware, no one knew this was coming, but an invasion force this large must have been in the works for a long time. His Eladrininess also spoke of a bounty hunter whose name I recognize—Thorn, who was playing it cool but acting tough. What little I know of the guy, yeah, that sounds about right. Thorn was approached by someone looking for “heavy hitters” to “stir up trouble;” the exact nature of the job was left vague, but Thorn turned it down as it wasn’t his line of work. Thorn also assumed that if anyone would be behind said offers, it would be Zithran.

Meanwhile, Mako spent the day with his family, as his father-in-law tanned leather goods for the guard and his wife rolled bandages. Mako checked on the archers’ training, mostly dwarven crossbowmen with the occasional longbowman of another race thrown in.

Orsik visited the Wayfarers’ old friend Now-Captain Kalad, and was asked to review the troops. As a “Hero of Overlook” he was a boost to their morale and a model for the coming conflict.

Kah sought out other members of his people, if any had infiltrated the city. He also spoke briefly with Overlook’s scouts, hoping there might be similarities in the invading army and that which leveled our old school.

I spent the evening and early morning debriefing one Sergeant Alison Stormgale, a member of the guard whom I relieved of her duties and insured her personal morale was at its peak. Alison was more than willing to keep me abreast of the guards’ strong and weak positions and shared quite a few of the techniques she had picked up over her training. After Alison reported for duty, I made for the less shiny parts of town, to see what the Lost Boys and other unsavory types were planning and preparing. As to be expected, their judgment of what to protect and what to let go was quite different from Kalad and the Wayfarers, but I may have a clue as to one of the Lost Boys’ chapter houses. Something to look into later? Perhaps Captain Kalad would be interested to the tune of a tiny sum…

As is typical, early-to-mid morning, we are summoned to the Stone Anvil, and, as these things conveniently happen (good thing we never have to sit around and wait) shortly after arriving, a runner bursts in to the War Room to report a group of “men” have arrived at the South Gate seeking Arranis. It turns out 50 Shadar Kai have been sent by an old “friend” of the Wayfarers, one Modra of the Shadowfell. Based on Orsik and Mako’s recounting, “friend” means they didn’t kill him, he didn’t kill them, despite initial efforts on both parties. While the Shadar Kai leader (Hat Rack? I couldn’t have heard that right) and Arranis discussed their arrival, I devoted my attention to one Gloom Shadowdove…I’ll have to look her up again once this mess in Overlook has been cleared. As the dwarves lead the Shadar Kai to quarters, a thought crossed my mind; do these dwarves have any air cavalry: griffon riders, hippogriffs, etc? Looking up, I spotted several winged shapes heading toward the city; blue demons and manticores fly overhead.

The demons dropped some sort of fiery grenade, and we rushed to where the nearest smokepoure above the rooftops of Overlook. The blue demon had set a street afire—Orsik would later recognize it as a berbalang (Do they make rugs? Or was that a juice drink? I can’t keep this stuff straight), which eats flesh and consumes the memories store therein. It can also replicate itself, as we discovered when three copies of the blue bastard appeared in a flash of light. Our battle with the berbalang was watched by citizens of Overlook slowly settling their panic and encircling our melee, despite the fires raging around. We put on a pretty good show; I’d like to think we made them feel a little better about their losses that day. I’d especially like to go back and see what I can do to fill the emptiness in that baker’s daughter I noticed…

Following the berbalang, we make to the wall; it had been breached! Three large trolls and one of those little spitting bastards poured though, while the men and dwarves of the watch were engaged with orcs, it became clear these four have us on the menu. Things were not looking well early on, but fate must have rolled a different die halfway through the battle, because the tide turned in our favor. Also, I broke into a house. It was in order to get a better shot at the spitter. Kalad will understand.

The dwarven engineers were able to reinforce the wall, and while there was no way of knowing how many of the foe poured through the breach, we spent the rest of the day in a mopping-up action, jumping from hot spot to hot spot and taking out small bands of orcs and the like. We rejoined with the Shadar Kai to find they fought well, only four of their number fell that day. Eventually, Elder Durkick caught up with our combined party and forced us to the House of Sleep, collectively, we were too exhausted to even consider objecting. Overlook held that day, due to the noble efforts of its people, its guard, and the Wayfarers of Brindol.

"My sword is outrageously large!"

Within the temple, our final exploration took us down the crevasse in the cathedral cavern. It was notable that several of the smaller humanoid bodies were dragged away. The dark crevasse itself dropped 20 feet from the collapsed ramp to the right, a path led to the left into darkness. Orsik noted disturbed dust, and Arranis polled the party; left or right. We voted right, and headed down the tunnel—clearly natural, broken and ripped in the wall by whatever cataclysm befell the temple.

The crevasse ceiling opened into a larger, lit chamber, as the crack itself narrowed. The chamber we found ourselves in was columned, with a raised dais at the north. The columns gently glowed, providing the small chapel with enough illumination to see. One column laid across the floor, and Orsik noted the columns themselves were likely to fall if impacted too hard, bringing the cavern down on our heads. Upon the dais was an old dwarven crone, ancient beyond attractiveness, and between us and her, four of the slystone dwarves and three cyclopses: Hethrada and more servants of the stoneskin king. Remarkably, the crone engaged in conversation—and thankfully not flirting—about how to escape the tunnels and who possessed the Incunabulum Primeval, until she revealed it was in her possession. And of course, at that point, the Wayfarers do what they do best: all hell broke loose. (Just once, I’d like these guys to not assume I was trying to sleep with the villain, although later, we found out she could polymorph, so maybe it wouldn’t have been a bad idea.)

Following our battle with Hethrada and her minions, we discover Zithran most likely fled to the Astral Plane, as the final doors in the crystal tabletop room led to its vast expanse. The Keeper granted us the book, and left us with the thought that perhaps he alone should not hold the temple, and perhaps it was time to be reconsecrated and returned to its purpose as a nexus for Moradin-worshippers. (Note to Orsik: career options?)

We returned through the portal to the Stone Anvil, a portal end now guarded by four dwarven soldiers. We are whisked to the council chambers and summoned to their dais, it appears we were the first band of adventurers and first group of non-dwarves elevated to equal footing with the Council of Overlook—a curious honor to be sure. Looking down upon the council, we report our adventures in the temple, and the elders are alarmed. Mako points out to me that the Captain of the Guard is a former ally of the party, one Kalad, formerly of the Sundered Chain monastery. Elder Cadrick, the youngest of the council, is the first to take stock of us and realize, “You look like hell!” We’re finally dismissed, sent to The House of Sleep, and rushed to bathe and spent the night as eventfully as we wanted it.

We are awakened early by pounding on the doors, told to dress and bathe, and as we’re rushed to the council, we smell smoke in the air and the populace on the verge of panic. The council is gathered in a perfectly square room, adorned with maps of the city. We discover that during the night, an army of trolls and ogres has laid siege to Overlook, and have begun burning the surrounding farmland. The city itself is stocked for months of siege, and we inform the council of the portals we know of as “back doors” or potential escape routes. I head to the streets, contact the Lost Ones and some other less savory associates, and whip them into helping; the party stays and plans the defense of Overlook. We end the day on the verge of battle.

"My Dicebag Responds to Shake." "So Does Mine, Depending on What Underwear I'm Wearing"

The next stage of our romp through the dungeon began with Orsik thanking Arranis for the hammer cozy. The explorations of the rooms with the crystal tabletop ceiling (formerly, the crystal tabletop floor, until well-planned decision to evade my trolly friend) revealed, the the following order:

A room of pedestals and podiums, with hooks on walls, the remains of old tapestries rotting from them. I’ve been in enough art galleries while trying to win the less-noble affections of a comely noble lass or two, and I’d say this was once such a room.

The next room bore a more grave feel, as alcoves along the walls held ransacked and smashed sarcophagi. One the floor lay one human skeleton, pierced by iron spikes; clearly, not as good at disarming traps as I. Beneath his corroding armor lay a golden crown upon a purple cushion. (Might I say, Arranis looks lovely in his new tiara?)

Room three, a study room of slowly rotting chairs and tables. Next door, in room four, a decaying library with a pile of moldering books recently disturbed. The Incunabulum’s resting place perhaps? Perhaps Dwarves need better places to hide the book that ENDS THE PRIME MATERIAL PLANE THAN UNDER A PILE OF OTHER BOOKS! The last literary room was a dusty scroll room, full of dust that was once scrolls. On a side note, my side quest to discover “The Big Book of Dwarven Erotica” continues to come up nothing, further proving my point that no such tome can exist.

Room six…seriously, who leaves a suit of clearly enchanted armor in a pool of stagnant water?

Finally, as we rounded the final room without a proper ceiling (really, can we get one of these in Lady Penelope’s School For Girls back in Grayhawk?), Mako finds a suit of leathers fit for…well, Mako.

Within the enclosed outbuildings, we discover a battered and tortured Azer, the Keeper, clearly worked over in a way that would intimidate those thugs in the Lost Boys back on Overlook. Chained to an upturned bedframe, implements of torture (and not the fun kind) strewn about, he needed the ministering of Arranis and Orsik just to bring him around. The Keeper reveals that the plot is to use the book to access Overlook for an invasion. Carefully guarding our new found charge, we camped for an extended stay.

From the crystal room, we backtracked using the Azer’s directions to the library. Through the large Birthday Cake Cavern, to the main entrance, and then through a small door that led to a dark passage, into darkness. Is it too much to ask, that once in my career, a passage opens to a meadow of buxom Elvin maidens carrying large vats of baby oil? Sadly, this dark passage only led to small room with a table and no visible exit, but Mako’s keen archer eyes spotted prints in the dust. I was able to pop the door, and though it we entered the “Library,” a rectangle room with raised chambers around it. Three visible Quicklings, a trapped floor, and two harpies later, we realized the room had been ransacked, but Kah found a bandoleer with eight potions still viable. Orsik found a small, warm iron tube and some salve, and we left him alone with them…until it proved the tube was child-proof, and I opened it for him. The wand inside went to Kah, and I found a stylish silken sash. I think it makes me look roguish.

Really? Who leaves armor in pools of stagnant water?

After our encounter in the room of cake that had no cake, we camped for an extended rest in a secure room. Arranis, our fearless leader, was on watch when he overhead some grumbling from the portal chamber. Hethrada (She of the Deathly Song)’s little twiggys were testing the portals and frustrated they could not escape. Arranis woke me up from a wonderful dream about this little half-elven baker girl in Overlook who smelled like cupcakes to report the keeper and the book must still be apart (note to self: that’s good).

And so, we headed back into the Coliseum of Cake; fortunately the fallen Trolls and Fey all remained right where we left them (note to self: that’s also good). A quick peak down the crevasse along the right-hand wall revealed darkness, and not much else. We chose to avoid that way for now, instead, heading through the doors under the stairs. The right-hand door led to a dusty chamber, and Orsik took the lead through the very dwarven temple. Our first path led to three options: door left, door right, hall straight ahead. To the right, a room of broken furniture; Orisk assumed it was the post-party store room. I’ve been to dwarven keggers. I’m not disagreeing. The left room appeared to be a dormitory, with small, individual cells for the dwarf monks. Again, covered in dust; nothing of note. While Orsik and I moved to the second door in the cells, Arranis, Kah, and Mako remained in the hall; that turned out to be a very good idea, as Orsik and I entered a dining room and encountered animated anvils with hammers for arms. Really? If any race needs to diversify their décor motifs, it’s the dwarves. In true dwarven fashion, we were warned to “leave this place,” and then immediately attacked before we could comply. With the help of the three who chose to use the hallway to enter the dining room, we were able to make short work of them, and proceeded into a forge, where Orsik triggered a trap. However, “compelled by Moradin,” he “bravely trudged forward” to a giant anvil, making a nice clear path for me to disarm the traps. For his shocking experience, he got a souvenir anvil charm. Having exhausted this path, we headed up and out through the doors the trolls decided were superfluous when they made their dramatic entrance into the fray.

Through those doors, we followed a long staircase up a corridor to spy a leather-wrapped, thin being talking with something that looked like dragonborn, but was slightly “off.” They turned a corner and disappeared before we were able to confront them, but it’s assumed that’s Zithran. Following the stairs, we entered into what could only be described as dwarven architecture after hitting the Old Thunderbottom’s Dwarven Ale a bit too hard. A huge chamber with a pyramidal stair in the center, a clear (Glass? Enchanted?) floor in a circle around the chamber, which formed the roof of the level below. At the far end were another set of double doors, before which stood a creepy looking statue of Moradin. To the southwest corner, two rooms had roofs, as opposed to the clear glass above most. In the room, apparently searching for something, were five human thugs, two of the not-dragonborn, two large trolls, and one of those small bastard trolls that spits. After making friends with one of the trolls who would not leave me alone, I decided discretion was the better part of valor, and chose to “explore” the chamber directly below me, filled with large statues and item of a spiritual but not economical value. Sitting in a pool of stagnant water, I did locate a shiny and obviously enchanted suit of chainmail. I decided Arranis needed it.

D&D Is Like Math-Believe
I'm doing this in character, you know.

After our little dust up with the Harpies than the gnomey-dwarf guys, Kah thought back to the academy and remembered something about Slystone Dwarfs, nasty little biters native to the Feywilde, known for being cruel, evil, vile, and distantly related to gnomes. Nasty on all counts. Well, gnomes are okay, but that one bugger kept taking my money in that casino on the bay that one time. Ahh, that casino. The tables and the waitresses were loose…

Sorry, Arranis has told me to pay more attention. Like Mr. Broody-pants isn’t paying enough attention for both of us. We question the Slystone, which would be an excellent name for an inter-species troupe of bards, incidentally, who revels that he and the rest of the Feywilders…Feywilderen…Avandra’s Tits, what do you CALL these guys? They were all sent by “Kaleshane, the Stoneskin King.” Now that bastard, I remember hearing about back in school. Ugly mother: Fomorian and cruel, evil, vile. Sense a theme? Which makes sense, what with the feathery harpies and Feywildorian dwarfs. After what can only be described as “a negotiation” (of sorts), our little sly friend tells us he and his bunch came in the front door, and now they can’t get out. Mako sticks his hand back through the portal, only to quickly pull it back in, saying he felt like he was “dissolving.” I’ve seen an ocher jelly at work, being dissolved is NOT high on my to do list. Sly tells us that the book (Libram Moradinneedsbetternamesium or whatever) is though the double door opposite the “main” entrance. Sly’s boss, Heathdra of the Deathly Song (a harpy, I assume) has the book, but she’s torqued Kaleshane off, so she’s in the temple on an unsanctioned little snatch-and-grab. Sophocles, Kaleshane’s new advisor told him NOT to go for the book. This seems like a REALLY good idea, based on what happened next. Turns out, another group’s also after the Libram, and they’re not here to play. They have the “keeper,” of the temple, whoever or whatever that is. As soon as the keeper was grabbed, the portals shut down, and now we’re stuck in this cave. No wines, no ales, and worse, the only women appear to be harpies.

So, what do we do? The logical thing: go after the book. Through the double doors was an immense cavern, in which we immediately see a Slystone and the rest of his family, some catfolk (catgirls, things may be looking up!), and some buggy little guys; quicklings. Naturally, we attack. Well, the rest of the Wayfarers attack. I decide the alter at the top of the cavern looks like the best possible place for a book to be sitting, and I hightail it up the side. As soon as I get there, yeah, the doors at the top of the cavern fly off and a pack of angry trolls and their pet Firebelcher slobbers their way in. In the second before I dive for cover, I hear Arranis, who’s been doing an amazing job keeping Orsic and himself alive, I might add, blame me. And of course, no book. One exhausting scuffle later, we’ve got both groups down to twitching piles of Troll and Fey, but we’ve got no booze, no book, no keeper, no women, and I think that bastard Firebelcher singed my cloak!


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.