Watchfires & Thrones Session #45

After an almost four month recess, the players gathered around the table to explore the depths of Stonehell Dungeon once again, but first there was some old business to attend to.

Aieglos and Anwar had completed their training and were looking to occupy the time until the rest of the party returned from their trip upriver to destroy the last vestiges of the Hobgoblin armies. Having been gone just over a week, their absence was not yet cause for alarm. However, Templeton Naz, the proprietor of the Mad Manor was beginning to hint rather strongly that someone needed to take care of the putrefying corpse of Rondo Fleagle that remained in the boarding house’s cold storage space. As the party had sworn to return the dead dwarf to his former home of Dro-baan Khaz, Aieglos and Anwar arranged to join a caravan heading towards the heart of the dwarven kingdom. After three days of travel and a few minor encounters (boulder-hurling apes in the mountain passes and a giant gar that ate one of the caravan’s mounts as they crossed a river), the duo arrived in the subterranean mountain city of Dro-baan Khaz.

Upon their arrival, they sought assistance in what to do with Rondo’s body and were put into contact with one of the dwarven heralds to ascertain what Vein the slain mercenary belonged to. That’s when difficulties arose. Fleagle is not a dwarven name and there was no record of lineage existing for him. It was only when the coffin was open and the herald glimpsed the rotting face within that the reality of the situation became apparent. A look of shock burst upon the herald’s face and Aieglos and Anwar found themselves ushered into an out of the way chamber while a great commotion occurred outside. Several hours passed and there was still no sign of the clamor dying down. Finally, the two were sent for and a quartet of dour-faced dwarven soldiers escorted them out of the room and deep into the inner halls of the dwarven city. As they traveled, they noticed the same sad faces and black mourning bands strapped across shields. It was only when they found themselves escorted before King Tobben of the Underhalls that they learned the truth of what had occurred.

“Rondo Fleagle” was actually Randle Flowstone, the king’s second son. Years ago, an argument between the two led to Randle being declared a “mortdwerg” which effectively made him dead in the eyes of his father. Randle left the city, assumed another name, and sought to prove to his stubborn father that the surface races were worthy of the trust of the dwarves and that without dealings with them, the dwarves of the Kinan-M’Nath would continue to stagnate and die. Randle was a well-liked prince and his ostracism was a great travesty to most of the residents of the city. With his body returned and now no hope of reconciliation with his father, the entire city of Dro-baan Khaz was in mourning.

Once appraised of the situation, Anwar and Aieglos had a quick pow-wow and produced the resurrection ruby they had claimed weeks ago. Informing the king of its power, the duo summoned the great dwarven clerics and proceeded to place the gem upon Randle’s dead chest. Moments later, the magic of the gem came to life, the stone shattered, and Randle Flowstone was once again amongst the living.

Rejoicing at the return of their prince, the two found themselves honored guests of Dro-baan Khaz and feted for several days. They had earned a place of respect amongst the dwarves and were welcome to return at any time. Randle announced he would remain with his people to try and open their eyes as to what their role in the future of the Kinan-M’Nath would be and to reacquaint himself with his position and with his father. As a gesture of thanks for returning his son to a stubborn old king, the two were gifted the Ring of the Hastanes, a magical ring entrusted to the dwarves when the Hastane line vanished 500 years ago. Its powers were unknown since no wizards existed amongst the dwarves, but clerical magic had determined that it bore a powerful magical aura. Taking the ring, the two returned to Blackpool to see if their comrades had returned from their mission upriver.

Back in Blackpool, they were dismayed to learn their friends were overdue. Reports from the Warden Rangers confirmed that the hobgoblin and goblin forces had been routed and were slinking back to their caves. Kaldar had returned and told of the rest of the party entering a crumbling monastery on the western bank of the river while he kept watch on a prisoner outside. When two days had passed and the river boat, the Otter, was due back at Fort Wolf’s Head, Kaldar returned to the river and caught the ship back to Blackpool to report. Anwar and Aieglos decided that if no word was heard in the next week, a rescue mission would be arranged and they would head upriver to discover what happened to their allies.

In the meantime, their coffers would need replenishing and they turned their sights back on Stonehell. With many of their numbers training or missing, the two decided to recruit some fresh members and hire on more mercenaries. Two new candidates for membership were found in the Mad Manor: a dwarf named Helgsvar Dragonsbane and a human cleric with the unlikely name of Chuck of Amencia. With stalwarts Dirk Sodbuster and Rolf Sheepminder once again on the payroll, the group headed back to Stonehell intent on exploring the southeastern portion of the uppermost level. It was not to be.


Entering the dungeon without incident, they unrolled their map and ventured off towards the route that would take them around the pit trap that had annoyed them for so many weeks. Almost immediately they discovered that changes had occurred to the dungeon in their absence. The “voice room”—the chamber where a ghostly voice and a rush of wind calls out strange portents—had acquired a short flight of stairs that ended in a pillar of fire. The flames seemed real, cooking rations thrown into it, and leaving the party uncertain as to what this mysterious new addition meant. Deciding to leave it alone for the time being, they headed to the west, passing the fountain room and the catacombs that lead to the skull shrine.

Arriving in a room where they once battled centipedes, they discovered a door in the west wall where none had stood before. Also, the southern corridor out of the chamber had acquired a mysterious western turn. Deciding against venturing into new territory before they got their bearings, the band headed north.

The corridor headed straight as far as even infravision could see, but at least two doors and a side passage were visible along its length. Venturing down it, the party bypassed the side corridor (but noticed a door on its north wall), and pressed on towards where Helgsvar’s infravision had detected a series of niches in the wall just past a door on the eastern wall. Helgsvar forged ahead to investigate the cavities, and after finding them empty, called the rest of the party forward.

As they did so, a secret passage opened in the eastern wall and three of Stonehell’s berserk deviants poured at to attack the party. Two charged poor Dirk and Rolf while the third advanced on Chuck. Simultaneously, another seven emerged from the door in the side passage to attack the party from the rear. Chuck and his pet dog were slain moments after the ambush began, but Rolf and Dirk held their ground long enough for Aieglos’ arrows and Anwar’s sleep spell to cripple the berserkers and allow the party to carry the day.

The threat neutralized, they party entered the secret chamber to the east and found a guard room and pantry. Several fresh humanoid corpses hung from the ceiling, and one was found to be extremely fresh—still alive! They cut down the meal-to-be and met Felix Fartouch, a human archer that had been destined for the stewpot until the adventurers came along. They welcomed Felix to their ranks and scooped up a dozen copper trinkets they discovered under a pile of cleaned skulls.

Deciding that south might prove better than the north did, the party stopped to see what the room the rest of the berserkers had emerged from contained and found it to be a general quarters. A chest inside the room contained several hundred silver coins, but also a needle trap that Helgsvar barely avoided.


Back in the southern chamber, they entered the mysterious new door to discover a room filled with empty old barrels. Helgsvar entered and began pounding on barrels, stirring up a quartet of centipedes as he did so. He fled from the room, but Anwar smelled treasure and the party cautiously reentered some minutes later. They searched the room, defeated the centipedes, and Aieglos’ elven eyes discovered a loose flagstone that held three ruined leather sacks holding one hundred gold coins apiece! A mighty haul, indeed.

Feeling better about the changes to the dungeon, the party took the southern passage and found it almost immediately debouched into a bare room. Only a layer of purple powder covered the floor, and this was highly suspect. Sure enough, Helgsvar prodded the dust with a 10’ pole and it erupted into a gaseous cloud that he barely avoided. Poison was the likeliest result from breathing it. Anwar decided to try and burn the dust with torches, but his attempts to throw them around the bend in the corridor produced laughable results. The party was just about to attempt to wet the powder down when Aieglos noticed a glow coming down the hall from the fountain room.

A wandering fire beetle was out scavenging for food and with memories of the carnage the beasts had caused them in the Quiet Halls, the party wasted no time in attacking. Unfortunately, their assault did little to penetrate the carapace of the beetle and it was soon upon them. Helgsvar took a grievous wound and Rolf and Dirk exhibited great battle acumen before the beetle was finally slain.

The party decided that enough was enough and they’d go back across the damned pit again to get south. When they reached the corridor on the far side of the pit, however, they discovered that the corridor no longer ran south. Frustrated, they speculated that the catacombs and skull shrine might now contain a southern route, but headed to the Wheel of Fortune first. The door to the Wheel room was unusually stubborn, and when Helgsvar yanked hard on the door, a pit opened beneath them, dropping Felix and Helgsvar (Aieglos played an avoid taps card to escape the pit) into a 10’ shaft. Injured, but not slain, the party recovered their own and took a wine break.

With their wounds bandaged and their spirits restored, the party returned to the catacombs and stood before the massive stone double doors…and found them locked. Suddenly recalling that they had picked the lock the last time they explored this section of the dungeon, Anwar produced a magical scroll. Reading it aloud, the words ignited a blue fire that limned the portals. With a groan, they swung open and the party entered cautiously. All the crypt doors along the corridor were closed, so the band moved swiftly to the door at the far end that would lead them to the skull chapel. Passing through, they found the shrine empty and left Rolf and Dirk to watch the doors as they began searching for secret egresses.

Their hard work discovered a secret panel in the eastern wall, but it unfortunately did not lead deeper into the dungeon and instead concealed a small cavity that held old clerical robes and a large coffer. The party hemmed and hawed over the coffer until Felix lost his patience and opened the container with a flick of the wrist—and promptly died from the poison needle that protected it. The rest of the party found several thousand silver, some small pieces of jewelry, and two potions.

As they began to pack the treasure, a light appeared behind them and they turned to meet a human dressed in leather armor. Introducing himself as Gustaf Bickers, he claimed to be a “procurement specialist” that had been planning on breaking into these catacombs for weeks, only to find them open after he bought a skeleton key from a shifty character to bypass the lock. The party apologized and offered him a position with them since they now had an opening. Gustaf accepted.

Still unable to head south, the band decided to check every crypt along the entrance to see if a new door had appeared in them or if they held a secret portal they had missed. One by one, the party threw open the doors to find many of the crypts empty. One held four skeletons that the party quickly dispatched, finding a potion of flying for their troubles; another held a swarm of giant rats that almost overwhelmed the party. In the end, the rats were slain and a scroll of magic missiles was found in their nest, but not before poor Gustav was bitten and contracted the Sumatran Flu. Taking this as an omen, the party left Stonehell to return another day.

Map of Blackpool

Blackpool Map Key

Places to Stay
1. The Dead Dragon Inn
2. Toilers’ House (rooming house for itinerant laborers)

Places to Worship
3. Sanctuary of the Sovereign Flame (Temple of the Sovereign)
4. Chapel of the Square Deal (Temple to Chadem)
5. The Fortunate House (Temple to Chance)
6. The Tabernacle (Non-denominational worship house)

Places to Play
7. Mother Thums’ (house of ill-repute)
8. The Pit (games of chance)
9. Progo’s Theatre and Song Hall (performance hall)
10. Goodwife Esbah’s (2 in 6 chance of beer for sale)
11. The Begging Bandit (rough and tumble tavern)
12. Tobben’s Tilbyr (dwarven brauhaus)

Goods & Services
13. Chast the Scribe (spellbooks decoded, maps for sale)
14. The Quiet Repose (undertaker)
15. Japh Nidg, Silversmith (jewelry and gemstones bought and sold)
16. Fleetfoot’s Messenger Service (letters & parcels delivered)
17. The War House (fighter’s college)
18. Hortuuk’s Hides & Skins (leatherworker & furrier)
19. “Cheap Scrap Timber”/Doran the Wondersmith (lumber scraps [ground floor], artificer [second floor])
20. The Chortling Ghost (magic supplies & sundries)
21. “Gud Horsus” (stables & saddles)
22. Conundrum of Steel (blacksmith & part-time weaponsmith)
23. The Mother Lode (provisions, outdoor gear, & mining supplies)
24. Ferritixmus the Wheelwright (wagons repaired & sold)
25. Strongbow Arrowsmith (bowyer/fletcher)
26. Flora’s Remedies (herbs & folk medicines)
27. The Sacred Forge (Ferrumic smith – 2 in 6 chance of being open)

Civic Sites
A. Grain Silos & Cisterns
B. Watch Barracks
C. Council Hall
D. Assayer & Claim Office
E. Common Well

Watchfires & Thrones Session #30

I’ll be honest: I hit the wall about an hour before Sunday’s session wrapped-up and I’m still feeling a little crapped out when it comes to the creative fantasy bit. Let’s get this done, then.

Play resumed with the party standing at the T-intersection and Grumble investigating the sounds of SOMETHING coming down his branch of hallway. His infravision detected nothing; his ears barely heard the sound of trickling liquid coming from the gloom. He wisely rejoined the party and formed ranks just as three ghouls came clamoring into the light of the party’s torches.

Aieglos and Waren both called upon the power of their deities to repulse the unclean things, but failed to turn them away. This left them in the position to take the first of the ghouls’ blows and Waren fell to their paralytic claws. Aieglos suffered minor damage, but his elven blood was immune to the ghoulish pathogen. Despite these early injuries, my ghouls continue to fail miserably as threats and the party’s fighting men quickly dispatched the trio of hungry dead. Grumble threw Waren’s body into a mercenary’s carry and the band headed towards the surface to heal and strategize.

After they crossed the Pit of Inconvenience and before they reached the H Room, Anwar pleaded for the party to examine a closed door that they have passed several times. The desire to find a route that leads deeper into the dungeon and avoids the 10’ deep pit the party always needs to negotiate has been an ongoing concern for the sorcerer—he’s even made inquiries as to how much time and man-power would be required to excavate a passage around the pit.

Opening the door revealed an ancient living quarters. The decrepit bunks were caked with dust and the few footlockers that lay strewn around the floor showed signs of being looted in the dim past—except for one, that is. This suspiciously unopened container drew the party’s interest and Kubik the Thief was shuffled to the party’s front ranks to deal with the situation. A nearly half-hour process then began as the two hit point thief carefully made sure that the route to the box and the chest itself were trap-free. Only after he was sure no mantraps awaited the greedy did he pry open the rotted box. Inside were twenty chapbooks and a vial of dried ink. Although worth some gold to booksellers, one could only be disappointed after all the preliminary antics that led to the books’ discovery. About this time, Waren began to stir. The ghoul tetanus had worn off.

The party left the dungeon and return to Blackpool to find a small celebration was underway in the town square. Tuns of ale had been broached , a boar was turning on a spit, and a small group of minstrels played on a simple platform. The townsfolk were imbibing with relish—a much different atmosphere than had been hanging over the town since the rumors of a Storm Crow agent being discovered. When inquiries were made as to why the town was celebrating, the answer came that Azix Tsam, the local gray-man merchant and one-time patron of the party, had recently fallen into some unexpected money and was spending a portion of his windfall to revive the Blackpoolians’ falling morale. Groans erupted around the table as the players realized that Tsam’s windfall was from the Ghost Beggars’ treasury , the one which they never discovered during their exploration of the bandit lair. Despite this ill-met news, the fighting men of the party availed themselves to the free viands and even heard a drunken tale of a giant turtle devouring boats in the Murkmire Marsh north of town. Super Mario jokes were made and you can bet that this will be the last time I try and slip an adventure seed to you bastards! You’re on your own from here on out…I hope you like Stonehell.

After a round of healing and rest at the Mad Manor, the party reorganized and headed back to the dungeon minus Waren. Aside from a brief, uneventful run-in with a mountain lion watching them from the gate house’s battlements, the party returned to the second level of the dungeon without incident and began their plan to investigate the locked door they encountered and to continue to search for a back entrance to the hobgoblin lair. Tick, tock. Tick, tock…

Finding the entrance chamber to the second level empty of hobgoblin sentries, the party retraced their footsteps only to run into six of the creatures lying in ambush in the south corridor. Armed with spears, swords, and arrows, the hobgoblins were arrayed in such a way as to allow all of them to attack the party. These were no stupid, blood-thirsty orcs. The hobgoblins displayed keen military minds, and had it not been for a well-timed sleep spell, the encounter might have turned bad for the party quickly. The party collected some loot and departed the area with alacrity. The mysterious locked door awaited them nearby.

The locked door proved to be a mixed bag. They knocked the door open, but only to discover the room was a dusty and deserted storeroom. A strangely pink salt lick coated one wall and when Anwar tasted the salt, a horrible sensation wracked his body, leaving him feeling as if something grabbed his soul and twisted. He came out of incident unharmed, but perplexed. Two bags were then filled with the substance, totaling nearly 40 lbs. of the pink crystals. Poisoning a water supply was mentioned as a possible strategy, but let’s leave that aside for now.

The party encountered a quartet of giant toads as they departed the salty storeroom and Rondo was nearly devoured by one of the beasts. If they believed in omens, the party might have turned back then…

After dispatching the toads, the party soon found themselves back at the T-intersection they had started the session at and we called it a day. I kid, but it won’t be the first time I’ve had a group of players start and end a session in the exact same place.

The party pressed on north from there and, after a turn in the corridor, came into a large angled room. A herringbone pattern decorated the floor and the vaulted ceiling rose above them to end in pointed arches. From the darkness ahead, arrows began to rain down upon them. Charging into the gloom, they found another half-dozen hobgoblins waiting for them. Once again they faced an organized group and several wounds were received just getting into position where they could fight their orange-skinned opponents. Anwar’s sleep spell was negated by a hobgoblin arrow and the melee broke out in full. The party won the day and began to pick up on some of their opponents’ tactics. Ranks were rearranged and both arrows and spears were added to the party’s armory.

Past the angled room, the party found a strangely balanced pair of rooms at a crossroads. To the east lay a octagonal room whose sole decoration was a 12’ tall obelisk covered in occult sigils. The air in the room was surprisingly fresh and the floor remarkably clean. Speculation was made that this might form part of the dungeon’s ventilation system.

To the west was another octagonal room, but rather than an obelisk, this room held a 6’ tall metal pole tipped with an flag-like iron arrow. Another passage exited the room to the north. As the room seemed to lead away from where the party expected to find the hobgoblin lair’s back door, the room was left alone for the time being, but further exploration of its mysteries is intended.

A bit further down the corridor, a small, somewhat triangular room was discovered. A carving of a three-lobed eye looked down upon a dusty altar that bore a trio of brass scrolls. Malcolm Reynolds leaned into the corridor to shout, “Trap!”, and the party bypassed the shrine.

Just down the hall, the band caught sight of a low fire burning beyond a large archway in the corridor’s eastern wall. Surrounding the fire were a handful of the crazed human descendants of Stonehell’s original prison population. Knowing these base men to be cannibals, the party charged into action…and found three more of the evil men positioned in places they couldn’t see. Battle began to rage.

From the onset it was clear that Rondo and Baragkus, now at the front of the party, were in for the worst of it. Quickly surrounded, Rondo was being assailed on all sides and his blood rained onto floor in rivulets. With Aieglos’ prayers gone for the day, only scrolls remained to heal the wounded dwarf and the tide of battle was not allowing the elf time to move into position and ready the holy writs. Somewhere, perhaps in the Scrolls of Skelos, it is written that “when the magic-user has to draw a weapon and join in the battle and enemies are fought with a hand-held arrow, things have gone bad.”

The melee continued and the initiative dice continued to thwart the party. In fact, I don’t think they won initiative once during the entire session. Although superior to their enemies, the party had to endure a round of berserker attacks before they could return the favor and Rondo was suffering from this. Just before the last of Stonehell’s grim men fell under the party’s weapons, Rondo was slain and slumped to the cold flagstone floor. Silence fell over the party as they looked down on the body of their longtime comrade-in -arms.

We ended the session there.

Watchfires & Thrones Session #27

After successfully taking control of the Ghost Beggars’ main quarters and running off the bandit leaders, the party paused to take stock of their situation: should they flee with the monies and intelligence they accrued or see their raid through to the end, bitter or otherwise? “We stay,” they sighed wearily.

After hogtying their captured bandit securely, the party positioned themselves around the main cave and in the leader’s quarters to cover all the entrances while they ransacked the place. The footlockers in the main cave held worthless personal belongings, as the bandits seemed to mistrust their fellows and kept their wealth upon them. The leader’s quarters held a stout chest, albeit one whose lock lay upon the ground next to it as if it had been hurriedly opened and cast aside. Rondo volunteered to examine the chest and discovered disheveled clothes and a small sack containing gold and silver. It was obvious, however, that something had been removed from the container and carried off.

Hoover’s eyes scanned the floor of the leader’s den and he detected a single pair of footprints departing the cave to the east. That trail lead to a tall passage that could be easily navigated by the humans in the band. To the west lay a short tunnel, one standing but 4’ in height. It was possible one of the leaders fled that way, but the adventurers were unwilling to follow the cobra into its hole. They gathered up their loot and captive before heading east in search of whoever fled in that direction.

The passage led to an ancient kitchen, dust-covered and decayed. On a hook from the ceiling swayed a much out-of-place bird cage which seemed a recent addition. Peering inside, the party saw a dead cockatoo, its feet pointed towards the ceiling and a dagger sunk into its chest. Whoever fled this way had killed the bird in cold blood. What a fiend! The dusty floor attested to the cad’s path of flight, and sensing their quarry was gaining ground by the minute, the party stepped up their pursuit.

Passing through a few more caves with little time to take in their details, the party found themselves back in the bandit’s latrine cave. From there, they made a beeline to the stable cave only to find that two of the steeds that had been so recently saddled by Waren were now gone. From outside the cave, our heroes heard the sound of hooves in rapid flight and growing fainter by the moment. Hoover, Raijek, and Dardath leap upon the three remaining saddled horses and took off after the escaping outlaw, leaving Rondo, Waren, the invisible Anwar, and the sleeping bandit prisoner in the stables.

Outside, the party on horseback saw two steeds fleeing down the trail towards the nearby forest and drove their own mounts hard to close the distance. A frantic race erupted between the pursuers and the pursued, with the fleeing outlaw keeping just ahead of the party. The adventurers were able to close the distance enough to clearly see that they were chasing a bald and robed figure who rode one mount while leading a spare behind him. They had found the bandit sorcerer, but where was the leader?

Despite their efforts, the trio was only able to close the distance enough for Raijek to make a desperate shot at the magic-user with his crossbow. Despite the odds, the monk struck his target in the shoulder, but the fleeing mage stayed mounted. Dardath hurled a javelin in hopes of bringing down the bandit, but it sailed harmlessly into the trees. The sorcerer made it to the forest and, even with the blood trail and Hoovers’ best efforts, the three adventurers soon lost their quarry’s trail amidst the dim woods, dry stream beds, and numerous trails. Frustrated, they headed back to the bandit caves to inform their comrades. Little did they know their friends were facing problems of their own…

Back at the caves, Waren was in the process of saddling the remaining horse (with Anwar “supervising”) as Rondo kept watch on the cave’s entrance when the sound of clanking armor alert the trio they were not alone. Stepping from the gloom of the western tunnel was the bandit leader. Dressed in plate mail and bearing not only two swords, but a bulging purse on his belt, the outlaw looked at the now saddled horse and then grinned at the trio standing between him and freedom.

Rondo charged the bandit with the hope of bowling the outlaw over with his patented Dwarven Combat Roll—but ended up flat on his back and barely able to deflect the longsword aimed at his prone form. Waren produced his mace and shield and charged towards the embattled pair while Anwar snuck around to approach the bandit leader from the rear.

Unable to rise under the bandit’s hail of blows, Rondo brought his knee up and caught his assailant in the codpiece, rolling a “20” in the process. The sound of crunching metal plating was heard and the bandit doubled over in pain, allowing Rondo to regain his feet and Waren to reach the melee. Anwar, invisible, got down on all fours behind the groaning bandit.

As the outlaw feebly defended himself from Rondo’s next attack, Waren, having planned this with Anwar, rushed the bandit with shield outstretched, blasting the still unsteady man with a mighty blow. He stumbled backwards only to encounter the snickering mage and was bowled over onto the ground. Rondo stepped down hard on the outlaw’s main hand, pinning his longsword to the floor. “Surrender yet?” the dwarf inquired.

The bandit king snarled and drew his short sword with his off hand, earning a blow in the process. Unfortunately for Rondo, despite his bad position, he was able to thrust his blade in between the dwarf’s armor and Rondo went down bleeding. Anwar, still behind the bandit, pulled out a shovel to bash in the bandit’s head, thought again and produced a flask of oil, looked about to see no lit torches, then put it way and drew his scimitar. While that was occurring, the bandit and Waren were locked in battle.

Anwar was able to score a hit on the bandit’s unprotected back and Waren bashed the outlaw fiercely, but the cleric of Donblas was struck hard in return and fell unconscious from the pain. Although heavily wounded, the bandit locked eyes with the now alone Anwar and gripped his weapons menacingly. Anwar lowered his scimitar and stepped away, giving the bandit free passage to the saddled horse.

The bandit king laughed, complemented the turbaned sorcerer on his intelligence, and leapt into the saddle before riding out of the cave as if a pack of hellhounds pursued him. Unfortunately for the bandit leader, he chose to ride down the trail towards the forest below, not knowing that Hoover, Dardath, and Raijek were headed back that way.

As the aforementioned trio reached the edge of the forest, they saw a mounted figure riding hell-bent down the trail. As it got closer, they were able to see it was not one of their comrades and paused to allow the rider to close the distance—the better to launch a volley of missiles. Dardath’s barbarian heritage got the best of him, however, and he broke cover to charge the fleeing bandit screaming. Hoover sighed and put an arrow through the bandit’s skull, dropping the outlaw to the ground dead. The Ghost Beggar bandits would no longer be a threat to the Kinan-M’Nath. After stripping the corpse of valuables, which included several gemstones and the keen-edged short sword, the three returned to the caves to find Anwar ministering to Rondo and Waren. Battered and triumphant, the Society of Planewalkers returned to Blackpool to claim their reward from Azix Tsam, the “gray-man” who first put them onto this task oh so long ago.

When the party arrived at the gate of the walled town, they found that the usual cadre of four guards had been doubled and that these men were looking much more alert than usual. The guardsmen stood down once they recognized the members and the watch serjeant informed them that Say’skel the Mottled had commanded the Society to attend him the moment that all their members were assembled in town. The weary adventurers rode up to the Mad Manor and began to unwind. Anwar took the gems that the band had acquired from the bandits down to Shortshanks the Appraiser’s office in the basement, only to discover that the halfling had no interest looking at the stones until the adventurers had visited Say’skel. “It doesn’t pay to keep people who throw balls of fire around waiting, you know,” he advised.

The adventurers gather all their mobile members (and a few assorted hangers-on) and headed to the Keep. There, they found themselves hurried inside, but not before getting a glimpse at the ongoing process of replacing the keep’s wooden palisade with stone walls. The workers had been busy for the walls were three-quarters finished. Inside the keep, the band met with Say’skel in a rustically decorated side hall and he informed them that developments had occurred since they last spoke.

After sending for a specialist from Ilrahtyr to speak with the spirit of Norrim Gaz, the Storm Crow agent the party had slain in Modnar’s cellar, a foreboding plan had been uncovered. The Storm Crows were in the area because they were selling weapons to the hobgoblins of the Kinan-M’Nath. It seems that a particularly charismatic and powerful hobgoblin has fired the flames of expansion amongst the goblinoid tribes and decreed that it was time for a new nation-state to arise in the Uncertain Lands, one with a hobgoblin aristocracy. To that end, the hobgoblins were planning on pushing across the border into the Principality of Dhrin to annex its cultivated lands and its citizens. The Storm Crows intended to grow wealthy in the coming conflict and were doing their best to meet the armament demands of the warmongering hobgoblins.

It was further learned that a small force of hobgoblins had already gained a foothold in the region just across the border from Blackpool. An expeditionary force had occupied a portion of Stonehell Dungeon and was intent on turning more of that ancient prison into a hobgoblin fortress from which to launch sorties into Dhrin. The close proximity of this goblinoid redoubt was of overwhelming concern to Say’skel and Lord Warden Cryt. The Lord Warden would pay 100 gold marks apiece to anyone who could locate and dislodge this hobgoblin threat from the dungeon before it became too entrenched.

Another option was presented to help curtail the hobgoblin threat to Blackpool and the rest of the borderlands. The Storm Crow agent had revealed that their initial negations with the hobgoblins had occurred at a stronghold located beneath a large forested hill some two days upriver of Blackpool. Known as Hob’s Hill, this wooded mount stood on the western bank of the River Phol. The nearest “civilized” settlement to the hill was a rough-and-tumble outpost called Fort Wolfshead, a place frequented by prospectors, fishermen, trappers, and barbarians, most of whom avoided Hob’s Hill altogether.

Lord Warden Cryt surmised that, rather than lopping off the “sword-wielding arm” of the hobgoblin threat, striking its head clean off would prove more decisive. He was therefore willing to pay 250 gold marks each to anyone willing to travel upriver to locate, scout out, and, if possible, disrupt the hobgoblin stronghold beneath Hob’s Hill. Travel could be arranged, but the agents would need to provision themselves. Half their payment would be provided upfront to allow for this. In any event, time was of the essence and something had to be done soon.

Say’skel stepped from the room to allow the Society to discuss the Lord Warden’s proposals. There was some talk of tackling both missions at once by sending half their number north to Hob’s Hill while the rest assaulted the redoubt in Stonehell (which is precisely why I had Say’skel summon all the adventurers. Resource management is an important skill in these games and I was interested to see what the guys would do with their numbers). In the end, it was decided that a portion of their membership would travel to Stonehell to deal with the hobgoblin expeditionary force and possibly gain some intelligence regarding the stronghold under Hob’s Hill. They requested magical aid and received a potion of healing with three draughts in it. Their request for an official writ identifying them as agent of the Lord Warden was turned down, however, for the following reason:

The spirit of Norrim Gaz was able to identify one of the other two Storm Crow agents operating in the Kinan-M’Nath. That agent was a human magic-user who went by the name “Jaben Frost.” Frost was a young male with pale blond hair and a penchant for wearing ice-blue robes. He was active in and around Stonehell Dungeon, but his exact whereabouts were unknown. The third Storm Crow agent’s identity was unknown to Gaz, meaning that almost anyone might be working for that foul league. Since Lord Warden Cryt and Say’skel believed that the Crows were unaware of how much the forces of civilization in the Kinan-M’Nath had learned, they didn’t want to tip their hand by sending writ-bearing agents about who would be bound to raise the suspicions of the enemy.

As it turns out, the secrecy of these missions was already in jeopardy. Word had leaked out that a Storm Crow agent had been slain near Blackpool. This news caused a cloud of fear and paranoia to settle over the frontier town. Everyone in Blackpool knew that the presence of a Storm Crow was an omen of evil things to come. Suspicion of outsiders was rife, there was a run on arrows and weapons, and even guard dogs were hard to come by as the residents prepared to defend themselves. This accounted for the increased and more vigilant guards at the gate.

The party left the keep and began to prepare to return to Stonehell. Unfortunately, their departure was delayed by four days as they waited for certain members to complete their training. Whether this delay will have nasty consequences remains to be seen…

The party, composed of Aieglos, Anwar, Baragkus, Grumble, Kaldar, Krunk, and Waren, along with two recently hired linkmen, Dirk Sodbuster and Rolf Sheepminder, returned to the dungeon. Having procured a trio of hounds, the party intended to revisit the strange woman known as Klydessia of the Sisters of the Argent Moon to see what they might learn about the second level of Stonehell and the hobgoblins who laired there.

Things were going well for the adventurers and they were closing in on their destination when they reached the crossroads that led to both the former orc lair and the cricket caves. It was then that Kaldar’s ears detected the soft padding of feet coming from the direction of the caves. The party prepared to defend themselves, gripping their weapons and raising their shields. That’s when the first ferret of enormous proportions peered its cure fuzzy head around the corner and blinked at them with its adorable albeit beady little eyes.

Then came another ferret. And another. Each bounded into the intersection like a fuzzy coil of springs and before the party knew it, they stood facing eight of the 3’ long weasels. (I’ve decided that a pack of giant ferrets is officially known as a “tussle.” I don’t care what science might say.) The fuzzies started chittering as they got a whiff of the three dogs that accompanied the band, their lean flanks suggesting it had been awhile since the weasels had eaten. This agitation was enough to send Krunk over the edge and he charged the tussle with weapon held high. Baragkus followed in his wake.

A pitched melee broke out between the two fighting men and the ferrets, with one of the spring-loaded fuzzy wuzzies landing a critical hit on Krunk. The thought of being slain by a bunch of oversized house pets send the berserker into his first frenzy and he began hacking at the cute widdle nookums. Waren and Grumble, situated in the party’s second rank, took out the occasional ferret that dodged between the warriors to try and get at the hounds.

Aieglos, looking to get a shot in at those ferrets not locked in combat at the rear of the tussle, had Dirk and Rolf set the 10’ ladder they were carrying against the wall of the corridor and began to scale its rungs. That, my friends, was a tactic I did not expect to see, but I suspect it won’t be the last time that I see it. Fortunately, Krunk’s berserker madness defeated the last of the fuzzy threats before the ladder offensive could see actual combat.

As the berserker cooled down, wounds were dressed and the barbarian quaffed a hearty draught of wine. But, just as the band was preparing to move on, they caught the sound of something else headed their way…

Watchfires & Thrones Session #14

Sorry for the delay. This week’s been a busy one. Productive, but busy. I’ve got big plans for the future, but here’s the write-up for now.

Looking up from the orc corpses they were riffling, the party beheld four human men observing them at the corner of the corridor. Dressed in chain and leather, each man was armed and bore a black and yellow checkered clothe worn amidst their garb. This new quartet took the party to be another band of “’Hell Delvers” out for loot and glory, but when the adventurers explained that they needed help finding their way out, the men grew interested.

Highly suspicious of their new acquaintances, the party reluctantly agreed to pay 10 gold marks each if they were shown to the nearest exit. As they headed off into the dungeon, bound for a supposed nearby exit, the party’s guides arranged themselves at both the head and tail of the band, effectively surrounding them. That was the last straw for the PCs, who, deciding that if anyone was getting bushwhacked, it wasn’t going to be them, sprung a surprise attack on these supposed good Samaritans when they stopped to lift a dropped portcullis. A good thing too, for these men were actually Ghost Beggar bandits.

After a prolonged combat where neither side could score a decisive blow on the other, the bandits’ luck finally ran out and the party found themselves standing over three corpses and one unconscious bandit. Dragging their prisoner back to the chapel from some impromptu interrogation, the party found that the bandit caved under the slightest bit of duress (failed his morale check abominably) and gave up the location of two exits to spare his life. The bandit, Sfroat (who was assumed to be named “Scroat” by the party, much to their amusement), explained that one exit ran straight through the bandit den, but a second, larger exit existed directly to the north. If they just headed straight that way, they were bound to find it.

The party insisted on taking Sfroat with them, loading him down with Kyrinn’s corpse and slapping a pair of manacles on the poor bandit’s legs to ensure he didn’t go far. Setting off from the chapel, they negotiated a series of octagonal rooms on a northbound course. However, they’d had grown complacent about traps, and both Baragkus and Morg almost took a dive into a 10’ pit that barred their path (actually, Morg did take a dive trying to leap it, but that was a voluntary act of recklessness). Some careful rope and spike work allowed them to continue on, and their explorations turned up a pair of buckskin leggings and moccasins stashed in a rusty pot and buried in a garbage heap. Strange…but not as strange as Fanta wearing the ill-fitting clothing and doing wind sprints around the chamber to see if he could now run faster.

When the dirty laundry proved unremarkable, the party continued north, where they ran into a guard room of orcs. The pig-faced humanoids sprung out from behind a closed door the party was passing and nearly killed Baragkus before the tide of battle turned in the party’s favor, resulting in the orcs barricading themselves back in their room with hopes the adventurers would go away. Luckily for the orcs, the party was focused on getting out of the dungeon before something killed another one of them.

The party discovered numerous crossroads in their journey and battled a pair of wandering zombies. All the while, the air was growing fresher and Sfroat kept insisting they were almost to their destination. That’s when their journey was abruptly interrupted by the sound of voices and pale lantern light from around a corner.

Creeping forward, the party found an ornately carved room, its walls adorned with dwarven heroes and large runes. A party of five dwarves were engaged in a study of the chamber, but not so intently that the party took them unawares. In the brief parley that followed, the adventurers learned that they were just around the corner from the exit, but a trapped intersection lay in their path. At least that’s what it sounded like. The dwarves’ thick Scandinavian accents made it difficult to be sure. We also established that Fanta is going to get himself shot one day due to that mouth of his.

Following the dwarves’ instructions, the party did encounter a pit trap (rolled a “2” when they poked it with their now-remembered 10’ pole) but negotiated it by the same rope and spike technique they learned early in the day. At long last, they found themselves in Stonehell’s “H Room” and were relieved to see a spiral staircase ascend up through the ceiling, purportedly leading to the surface.

I was waiting on this moment with great interest. The party had promised Sfroat that he’d be released unharmed if he was true to his word about leading them to the exit. Although they had been relatively humane in their treatment to the poor sod (even upping his armor so that he might survive an attack since he had no weapon), they now had what they wanted from the bandit. His usefulness was at an end.

It turned out that the PCs are not bloodthirsty monsters, for they let Sfroat go, returning his dagger to him and even providing him with extra torches and offers of food before he departed. Whether this action will have repercussions should the party encounter the Ghost Beggars again remains to be seen.

Turning back to the matter of their escape, Morg and Baragkus climbed 70’ up the stairs without reaching daylight, but there was some trepidation on their part about being so far from their comrades, so the two stout fighters came scurrying back for company. Ultimately, the party pressed on past the 70’ mark and emerged in the defaced and trash strewn entrance chamber to the dungeon. Safe at last.

On the surface, the party discovered that they were indeed in a strange world, for a single moon hung in the sky. They stood at the far end of a lush valley on a warm spring night, one very different from the desert evenings in Rhuun. They decided that leaving the valley was the best course of action, despite some temptation to explore the ruins, trees, and caves they encountered. The party pitched a camp just beyond the ruined gatehouse that blocked the entrance to the valley, where they got a fitful rest as stirges dive-bombed them and small figures emerged from the gatehouse to observe them. However, they lived to see morning.

Putting the valley and Stonehell to their backs, the party descended from the mountains down an old military road which ultimately lead them to a more travelled highway. Atop a post at the crossroads was an arrow that read “Blackpool” and pointed to the east, so toward the rising sun they headed. An hour later saw them on the edge of a broad, slow-moving river with numerous saw mills on their side and a small town surrounded by a wooden palisade on the other. A small keep and a large timber manor looked down on the settlement from opposing hills and forest stretched off to the north.

Crossing a well-constructed stone bridge brought them to the entrance of the town, where a helpful guardsman collected their silver guilder toll (“The corpse and the dog can come in free.”) and informed them of the Fortunate House (a temple to Chance), the Sanctuary of the Sovereign Flame (the church of the Sovereign), and the Stag’s Rock (shrine to Hyrn the Hunter) if they were looking for curative magics. He also suggested they stop by the “Mad Manor,” that large timber hall atop the hill, if they were looking for lodgings and to join the adventurer’s order.

The party stopped in at the Sanctuary, walking past townsfolk with a corpse on Baragkus’ shoulders without comment from the locals (giving them some idea about what kind of visitors the town is used to) to get there. Inside, the local priest of the Sovereign informed them that he could hold a very nice funeral (25 gold marks) but could do little else for the poor Kyrinn. Lyrax donated a decent 5 gold to the church, which may be remembered in the future.

With nothing else to lose, it was back out of town and up to the Mad Manor to see what that was all about. At the top of the hill, they found a crumbling ruin of a mansion. Repairs were lacking, the roof was sagging, a noose hung from a tree, and two leering gargoyles had been splattered with so much paint they looked tie-dyed. Or as one player summed it up: “It’s a frat house.”

Yes it was, and the party was thinking twice about hanging around once they got inside. The place stunk of unwashed laundry, rotting wood, cheap booze, cheaper perfume, smoke, sex, and old cooking. The thin clerk behind the counter seemed less than enthused to meet them, and a giant of a man came down the stairs with a body wrapped in a sheet to inform them they had a vacancy if they were interested.

The party passed on talking up residency for the moment, but did express an interest in learning more about the adventurer’s order, and a helpful magic-user appeared to give them the specifics. For a somewhat steep fee of 100 gold marks per “category of renown,” they would become members of the guild and receive several benefits in the form of professional appraisals of goods and magic, reduced training cost, cheap lodgings, and access to the chapterhouse’s library. The fee would just about wipe out their savings, and we closed the session with the party in debate about the wisdom in becoming “professional” adventurers.