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.

Watchfires & Thrones Session #44

[Cue flashback music]

On the late morning of the 25th of The Bloom, a few short days after the stalwart members of the Society of Plane-Walkers departed Blackpool to confront and defeat the hobgoblin menace, a party of would-be adventurers arrived at the end of the Last Hard Road and entered the frontier town. This cadre of fortune hunters had journeyed to the Kinan-M’Nath from the quiet horse town of Shy Kimoor, some few days’ travel to the east. Drawn by the legends of Stonehell, the party was a most unusual mix of men and not-men.

Amongst the unnamed group’s ranks were Clausius Clapeyron, a dwarf and former brewer’s assistant renowned for his constant state of intoxication; Lordarain Brigmore, a cleric of Father Moon and former merchant; Sir Octo Puss III, a disowned octopus noble fallen on hard times; Ronald Crump, entrepreneur and magic-user; Tarfuhl, a Hurg and former military officer; and Trevor, outlaw magic-user. Having heard of the fantastic wealth that lay inside the former prison for the taking, the six had come in search of their own share of treasure. But first, they decided that stout men-at-arms were needed to help ensure their survival in the dungeon’s depths.

Directions from the local constabulary led them to the Dead Dragon Inn, the sole traveler’s rest house in town. Inside the common room, the group encountered a quartet of idle caravan guards and a much-maimed and cantankerous former dungeon delver. The latter was an abusive, if not completely unhelpful advisor and the former became hired hands in the party’s first foray into the dungeon. With little time to waste and plans to come back rich by sundown, the group, now assisted by Ivan, Merk, Chogah, and Lou (the men-at-arms), set off for the famous death trap.

The group arrived without incident, pausing to decipher some of the faded graffiti scrawled on the crumbling gatehouse wall. One phrase spoke of gold nuggets the size of apples beyond the Living Caves, and it was upon this obscure clue that the band set their sights. The party, throwing caution to the wind, strode brazenly through the gatehouse’s underpass, but Ronald Crump halted the back two ranks of the company in mid-stride to see if fatalities befell the rest of the group as they passed the murder holes and arrow slits. This action was noticed and unappreciated by those put in harm’s way. Apologies were made and the group continued into the box canyon.

Ignoring the ruins and caves of the canyon, the party followed the largest grouping of tracks directly to the dungeon’s entrance. Lighting torches and assembling with men-at-arms at front and rear, they descended down the long, winding stairs to arrive in the dungeon’s “H Room.” The eastern door proved stubborn to open, so the band made their way through the ogre arch and down the northern passage (after taking the map away from the perpetually drunk and Wisdom of 3 dwarf fighter).

A stout door stood past the archway and the band gathered about it in preparation for their first big score. Pulling the door open, they discovered a sunken floor and an atmosphere stinking of sulfur. In the center of the depression stood an intricately wrought brazier from which a score of 4” long frogs were leaping forth to cavort about the floor. This odd enough phenomenon was made odder still by the fact that each frog (and the brazier itself) burned with purple flames!

Clausius and Sir Octo entered the room. Clausius, without a beat, whirled his flail down on the closet frog, causing it to explode in a blast of fire, killing the animal and setting his own clothes afire. Sir Octo watched as four of the closest frogs turned their attentions on the burning dwarf and launched themselves at the drunken warrior. In seconds, Clausius was dead and burning brightly on the dungeon floor. The campaign had a new record for shortest-lived PC, a title former held by Pip Haggleham. Attempts were made to draw the frogs away from the burning dwarf (so that his gear might be scavenged) with a torch, but the fiery frogs had no interest in normal orange-red flames. The party closed the door and continued north.

Passing a wide corridor with bridge-like overpasses and avoiding a door that sounded of rats, the party reached a T-intersection and proceeded left. They swiftly came across a square chamber adorned with carvings of human faces, their mouths open wide. Attempts to cross the room revealed that the floor was pressure sensitive, firing darts at those who mis-stepped on its cracked surface. After half the party had made it across (and killed a spitting cobra attracted by their hot torches), the rest of the band learned that they could cross unscathed by climbing the carved faces and the room was safely bypassed.

Only a short distance beyond was another square room—this one adorned with large eyes carved in the walls. Sir Octo, using his natural climbing skills, hauled his body up one wall and across the ceiling to scout ahead. The rest of the group crossed with caution and were either extremely lucky or the room was untrapped—there were no injuries this time.

Beyond the eye room, the corridor turned south and was marked by eight small niches, each large enough to hold a decorative bust. The sixth niche seemed to hold one such carving: the head of a human male with oddly-upswept hair and wearing a cape some two-hundred years out of fashion. The party attempted to collect this piece and discovered that it was a hologram. No other signs of secret doors, hidden mirrors, or out of place details could be found. A mystery, indeed. Perhaps it points to other secrets waiting to be found.

The party continued on, forgetting to probe their way with 10’ pole. This meant that both Ivan and Sir Octo blundered into the trap waiting for them. With an explosion of white, glaring light, the duo found themselves adorned with thousands of pieces of glowing glitter, each of which provided ample illumination to nullify any chance of them sneaking about in the dark dungeon. To complicate matters, as the two walked, unearthly music arose from no visible source to accompany their movements:

The two had become walking dinner bells.

Attempts to wash the glitter off with water proved futile, but the band discovered a small storage room not far from the site of the trap. This chamber held the accumulated detritus of a hundred failed adventuring bands, most of which had deteriorated in the dank dungeon environment. The party decided to hole up, search the room, and see if the dinner bell trap would wear off.

The party passed the time digging through the ruined equipment, finding several useful items—bolts and arrows, torches, a ladder, iron spikes, a shovel, a crowbar, and vials of oil. Amongst this mundane gear were two small glass vials holding red and green liquids. The party paused to experiment and learned two things: 1) the glowing glitter was oil-solvable and the two afflicted members were cleansed of their musical decorations, and 2) the red and green liquids were both deadly poisons. Alas, this lesson was learned when Ronald Crump and Sir Octo Pus III sampled from the bottles. Both died in agony.

With half the party dead (and the referee’s sore back causing him much pain), the party exited the dungeon—weighted down with the wealth of their slain comrades—to try their luck another day.

A Giant Gift

My players are generous, engaging in acts that, although appreciated by me, might come back to haunt them. Case in point: The FLGS where we play each week has a display case filled with plastic minis. These figurines came from various miniature sets that have been broken down and sold individually so that the buyer can actually see what he or she is purchasing. In the last week, the store got a prodigious amount of Mage Knight sets in and the miniatures case has become flooded with odd, yet strangely intriguing pieces. Before last Sunday’s game, me and a few of the early arrivals were taking a look at these pieces and I commented that, although several of them, such as the steam-powered dwarven tank, would make excellent set piece encounters in the campaign, the $15-$20 price tags on the big models just weren't worth the one-time use I’d get out of them.

Despite my reservations, the guys really took a liking to one particular model—an “Iron Rain Hill Giant.” Standing a scale 20’ tall, the brute bears a giant axe as a weapon, but also has a boiler hanging on his back. A pair of helmeted dwarves ride on chairs strapped to the giant’s shoulders and are armed with what appear to be flamethrowers aimed outwards to guard the giant’s flanks. A third dwarf with horned helmet rides on the giant’s neck and seems to be steering him with a series of chain reins hooked through the brute’s eyebrows. It’s all very dangerous looking.

For reasons I’m still uncertain of, the guys took up a collection and bought it for me. They now want me to stat it up for Labyrinth Lord with the implication that they’ll fight it one day. As I said, they’re generous to a fault.

I certainly do appreciate the gesture. It tells me that they enjoy our weekly sessions together and all the hard work I put into making each game seem effortless. I just hope they still enjoy it when the Tijuana flamethrower-armed giant is making mincemeat of them someday…

Thanks, guys.

Watchfires & Thrones Session #32

The party paused to bind their wounds and catch their breaths after their victory over Commander Kura and his elite hobgoblin guardsmen. The pair of keys they liberated from the commander’s belt indicated that something lay behind locks somewhere in the Redoubt and treasure was the most likely candidate for needing security. The party exited the now-bloodstained mess hall to further explore the lair.

A clean but barren infirmary was found, allowing the adventurers to stock up on mundane healing supplies as well as a hobgoblin “medicine stick” (an item which initial experimentation deemed non-magical). Moving west they encountered an empty guard post that seemed to contain the much-sought after back door to the Redoubt, followed by a bare prison cell further south. Near the gaol, the passage made an abrupt turn to end at a blank wall. Their suspicions raised, the party began to search for hidden doors.

Mock discovered that the wall did indeed pivot and opened the secret door cautiously. Beyond was a disused bedchamber, its hundred-plus years-old furniture rickety and dust-laden. Faded broadsheets advertising pit fights and the brutal warriors who earned their living on the sands adorned the walls. A chest stood near the secret entrance, and it was to this container that Krunk turned his attentions (and 10’ pole).

As the berserker prodded and pushed at the chest’s lid, the rest of the party watched in horror as two gloomy forms stepped from the flickering shadows to attack. These creatures were black as pitch and devoid of features, looking like horrible silhouettes with evil intentions. The pair converged on Krunk, but he was able to retreat without injury. Waren and Aieglos brought up their holy symbols and attempted to drive the creature away from the party, but their efforts had no effect. Had their gods abandoned them in their time of need?

Mock strode to the front of the line, wielding Froghammer in his grasp. With a grunt, he shredded the first shadow to ethereal ribbons with the enchanted blade, sundering its incorporeal form and sending it back to whatever foulness birthed it. The rest of the band’s attacks proved to be less effective against the remaining shadow, passing through its form without effect.

As the party retreated back through the secret door, the shadow touched Mock and the half-orc barbarian felt his strength begin to desert him as a chill settled into his bones. Krunk slammed the portal shut in the creature’s featureless ebony face and Anwar read quickly from a prepared scroll, sealing the door with his magicks to prevent the creature from opening it and following the party’s retreat. As the enchantment limned the door, the party breathed a collective sigh of relief.

That’s when the shadow stepped THROUGH the sealed door and continued it attacks!

Mock took another blow, weakening him yet again, but despite the chill, he has able to bring his sword up before him. As the rest of the party moved further away from the melee, Mock slashed twice. Like a mist before the wind, the shadow’s form flickered and dissipated. The party was victorious!

But they had locked themselves out of the room for an hour and a half.

Vowing to return, the party head back to the east, tentatively making their way through the “discotheque” and heading south through an empty guard post. The corridor before them contained a trio of doors, each of which they carefully breached. One was an armory, another a storeroom, while the third was Commander Kura’s own quarters.

The commander’s chamber held a table littered with maps, battle plans, and communiqués. Amongst these was a pair of letters. One was from the hobgoblin warlord and would-be emperor Zoka, who regretfully told the commander of Stonehell’s hobgoblins that the promised reinforcements would not be arriving do to unforeseen circumstances. Apparently, the hobgoblins’ weapon supplier, an unnamed human, has allowed the latest shipment to fall into the hands of raiders. Zoka had summoned the human agent to the “Citadel of Iron Might and Furious Devotion” on the “18th day of Bile and Horn” to explain himself and to discuss how to correct this situation. Zoka hinted that the human would survive his audience, but that Kura should explore the feasibility of removing human agents from the hobgoblins’ supply chain and replacing them with more trustworthy (a.k.a. hobgoblin) allies.

The second letter was from the aforementioned human agent, identified solely as “J”, explaining that the weapon shipment had been lost when an outside factor raided the agents who were responsible for delivering the arms to the hobgoblins. The weapons were deemed unrecoverable, as they were now likely in the possession of either these unnamed raider or their superiors. “J” revealed he would be meeting with Warlord Zoka to improve security and indicated that he would meet with Commander Kura on their “usual neutral ground” in the days after the audience. The dates in this letter again referred to the month of Bile and Horn.

Aieglos, with his command of the hobgoblin tongue was able to deduce that the month of Blood and Horn was a period on the goblin calendar that roughly coincided with the current month of The Bloom. The day numerations were not identical, so there was some uncertainty as to when the 18th day fell, but the party suspects with some careful planning, they may be able to assault the hobgoblin fortress on Hob’s Hill so as to catch the human traitor as well. More research would have to be undertaken when the returned to town. The party laid claim to their first map of the northeastern region of the Kinan-M’Nath from amongst the commander’s paper as well—a resource that will assist them greatly in the weeks to come.

All this intelligence paled in comparison to the contents of the strongbox that was found beneath the commander’s large campaign bed. With a twist of one of the looted keys, the party laid eyes on a sizeable sum of treasure—six thousand gold marks and a few pieces of jewelry to be exact. Triumphant and gleeful, the party laden themselves with booty and headed out of the room.

A brief peek to the south revealed the elite hobgoblins’ barracks and an east-bound passage that showed signs of someone or something breaking through the corridor’s stone walls. A cursory glance was all the party had time for, as their calculations indicated that Anwar’s hold portal spell was about to expire. The party hurried back the way they came, returning to the secret door just as the magic faded away.

In the pit fighter’s room, the chest that Krunk had been examining when the shadows attacked proved to be a disappointment, but a dusty tapestry occluded richer fare. In niches hidden behind the hanging fabric lay three massive chests. After nearly falling victim to one of the chest’s traps, the party was astounded to find more coinage than they had ever seen in their lives. Mixed amongst the silver, electrum, and gold were a few glass vials and ornamental pieces of jewelry. The party began unloading every spare piece of equipment they carried so as to be able to haul the treasure up to the surface. It took some doing, but, much like the old “fox, chicken, and chicken feed” conundrum, with some effort and calculations, the party could get every last coin out of the dungeon. Of course, only Warren and Aieglos would have a weapon in hand and the party’s progress would be at a snail’s pace, but it could be done.

The party left the Redoubt, straining under the great weight but joyous, and headed towards the surface. As they reached the landing between the second and first levels, they paused to plan. They knew that there had been a group of bugbears lounging just outside the scene of the party-induced kobold massacre for some time. Each foray down to the second level, the bugbears let them pass without incident, merely smiling a little too much and snickering whenever the party left with another dead companion. The adventurers suspected that they wouldn’t get past the bugbears so easily this time, not with such an obvious fortune in their hands. The party began debating on how to approach this problem, sending Krunk with torch up to the first level to see if the bugbears were still at their posts. The barbarian poked his head up over the stairs, his torch burning brightly in the dungeon gloom, and saw two bugbears eyeing him with interest from the room beyond. The berserker quickly turned and descended back down the stairs.

The party began to debate—loudly—amongst themselves as to the best course of action. It was finally decided that they would send three of the fighters ahead without treasure to try and launch a surprise attack on the bugbears, hoping to dispatch them quickly before gathering up the treasure and limping quickly to the surface. Aieglos, Mock, and Hoover ascended the stairs…but found that the bugbears had vanished. Shit.

The trio returned and the party decided to risk running (crawling, actually) the gauntlet. With sacks in hand and backpacks near leaking, the party reached the first level and made a beeline for the surface, expecting an attack at any time. They had made good progress when they reached the portcullis they needed to bypass before having a straight shot back to the H Room.

“Well, well, well,” a gruff voice chuckled from the darkness as the party reached the lowered gate blocking their way. “What have we here?”

Stepping out of the gloom behind them was a quartet of bugbears backed up by five kobolds bearing javelins. It was an obvious stick-up job so the party discarded parley after a brief attempt and drew their weapons. The bugbears and kobolds launched themselves at the party.

As the two forces locked in combat, one of the bugbears and the kobolds ran south down the T-intersection near the portcullis. It was obvious that they intended to cut off the party’s retreat to the surface. And although this division of forces left the party facing only three bugbears, the giant goblinoids’ first attack struck down Hoover, sending the ranger into unconsciousness and rapidly approaching death. Krunk, Waren, and Mock ran to the back of the party to hold off the bugbears, leaving scrawny Anwar to handle lifting the portcullis. Aieglos sent arrows flying at the bugbear in the rear rank. The party honestly believed that they had met their doom in Stonehell.

The fighters and bugbears clashed at the rear, with wounds taken on both side. Anwar struggled to raise the gate, failing once before his feeble body, strengthened by adrenaline and fear, lifted the iron bars above his head. He stood there, his legs trembling under the weight, and gave serious thought to abandoning his comrades to their fate. Aieglos began shoving bags of treasure under the gate as quickly as he could.

At the rear of the party, the adventurers slowly began to gain the upper hand. Finally, thanks to the “Chop While They Drop” rule and really lousy bugbear hit points, the party dispatched the last of their assailants and quickly gathered up their belongings. A healing potion was poured down Hoover’s throat to get him ambulatory. As they dashed through the portcullis and turned north, a flurry of javelins came flying out of the gloom to their south. The kobolds had flanked them and now stood on the far side of a pit trap hurling their tiny missiles. A few struck home, but thanks to the scaly dog-men’s abysmal strength, only minor damage was inflicted. The party threw all caution to the wind and ran blindly towards where they secreted their ladder, hoping to get out of the dungeon before a wandering monster check indicated they met something on their flight to safety.

Finding their ladder where they left it, the party finally reached the Pit of Sheer Annoyance and began to slowly cross it. From the heavens above, some not-quite-benign deity started laughing maniacally and reached into his celestial miniatures case.

Mock and Waren had reached the far side of the pit when the sound of moaning and the stench of rotting flesh assailed them. Mock’s infravision detected nothing and the party’s lantern was on the far side of the pit, leaving the duo in darkness. When the party finally got a torch lit and handed it across the covered trap, the barbarian and cleric found themselves about to be over-shambled by seven zombies!

Waren was able to send three of the loathsome things fleeing before his god’s might, leaving Mock to dispatch the remainder with the help of Krunk, who had dashed across the pit. All the while, the rest of the party continued hauling loaded sacks across their increasingly-worn ladder. As the last zombie fell, the party struggled up the stairs and into the fresh air and fading light of late afternoon. Wearily and slowly, they headed back to town, cringing each time a die was rolled to check for wandering monsters. But Chance was with them and they reached the town of Blackpool after sundown on the 19th day of The Bloom.

Thus ended the first game session of 2011. I sense a spending spree on the horizon…

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…

The Storm Crows

This cabal of war profiteers earns its fortunes off of human suffering. Wherever the potential for strife exists, the Storm Crows operate. Whether it’s selling arms to both sides of a conflict, price gouging war-torn settlements for food and supplies, or enslaving refugees and selling them off, these amoral businessmen and women are the lowest of civilized creatures.

The Storm Crows method is to send a trio of agents into a prospective marketplace to gather intelligence, fan the fires of conflict, and sow the seeds of chaos. These initial agents operate in secrecy until conflict becomes unavoidable. Only then do they reveal themselves and begin ushering the first of the Storm Crows' armored caravans into the war zone. Their banner is a black crow on a field of crimson, gripping a trio of silver arrows in its left foot.

The Groaning Ruins

On the western bank of the River Ahkyl, some miles south of Blackpool, stands a rocky bluff overlooking the water. Atop this precipice is the crumbling ruin of a monastery. This hermitage dates back to the years when the Kinan-M’Nath was still Nan-Matal, the great empire which once covered the lands from the Ahkyl to the Shining Bay.

Centuries ago, this monastery was home to an order of monks dedicated to Amencia, the Lady of Healing. In the dark years during the decline of the Hastanes, the monastery was a stronghold of Law amongst the collapse of order. The monks provided care for the wounded and ill, and were not loathe to fight against the forces of evil which strove to tear the empire apart. For this reason, the monastery gained fame across the eastern marches. But this was not the sole source of the monastery’s renown, for within its hallowed halls lay a relic of unearthly provenance.

In the catacombs under the monastery, the monks cared for a single drop of Amencia’s blood. Said to have been given by the goddess to an exceptionally devout brother as reward for his untiring service, this droplet was rumored to possess the ability to cure any injury or illness, and it was even said to have the power to restore life to the dead. The monks kept the relic at the heart of an intricate labyrinth built to protect the blood from thieves and other evil men.

When Nan-Natal fell and the land returned to the wilderness, the monastery remained intact. For several years, the monks strove to care for the injured and ill and to push back the forces of Chaos. Then, without explanation, the monks were gone.

There is no record of them leaving their holy redoubt, no eyewitness reports of laden wagons departing the site. Visitors to the monastery found the upper levels empty, appearing as if the monks had simply stepped away for a moment. The only sign of activity was that the entrance to the catacombs was sealed. It was a mystery that was never solved. In time, the structure fell into ruin.

Over the years, adventurers and treasure-seekers have explored the site, even forcing their way into the catacombs. Despite these expeditions, however, no one has managed to reach the labyrinth that still supposedly holds that most precious blood. Adventurers exploring the ruins have reported an odd phenomenon, one that gives the place its name. At seemingly random intervals, a loud groaning is heard emanating from the ground beneath the former monastery. The cause of this unknown, but the most superstitious of adventurers claim it is the hungry souls of the vanished monks clamoring for blood of less divine origin—that of interlopers.

Delves into the catacombs have grown less common in recent decades, as most adventurers seeking to make a name for themselves or to pilfer easy treasure plumb the depths of nearby Stonehell. But, should one lucky band discover the entrance to the labyrinth and navigate its twisting halls, the benefits of owning the monastery’s lost relic would be incalculable.

Nailed to the Wall Behind the Owlbear in the "Mad Manor"

A Proclamation from His Most Eminent Highness

Let it be known that by the decree of His Most Eminent Highness, Grand Prince Kahtaf VI, the following screed is hereby announced:

Whereas the region known as the Kinan-M’Nath is a haven for threats to the safety of the Escyan Principalities; to wit: giantkin, goblinbloods, lycanthropes, undead, dragons, slavers, savages, highwaymen, fell wizards, blasphemous clergy, would-be warlords, and other dangers most severe, and

Whereas it is asserted that the driving back of these threats and the establishment of permanent bastions of civilization in the Uncertain Lands would be beneficial to the economic strength and military security of this state, and

Whereas it is the will of His Most Eminent Highness to encourage the settlement of the frontier and to eliminate any and all forces intent on returning our fair state to a condition of barbarism and political instability,

Therefore by the authority of His Most Eminent Highness it is decreed that any who erect strongholds in the Kinan-M’Nath and hold them for a period of no less than two years while cleansing the surrounding land of brigands and beasts shall be granted the title of Baron as well as the associated armies, wealth, and privileges of that office.

Declared on this day, the 21st of Galehome, 1601 G.C.R.

The Titles in Athkul’s Library

Whenever a library is introduced into the game, someone always needs to know what titles are in the collection. Those of you with copies of The Dungeon Alphabet know that I've already taken a stab at addressing this referee's conundrum, yet I still managed to put myself in a position where I needed more campaign-specific titles. One of these campaigns, I'll finally learn my lesson...

Below is the complete listing of all 143 titles contained in the crates which were discovered in the sublevel of the Temple of the Goat. Most concern chemistry, astronomy, sorcerous theory, biology, botany, metallurgy, and other topic of interest for a sorcerer/self-made god-king. The total collection weights 1,000 lbs.

1. Of Destiny & Moon
2. The Edition of Eliadus
3. The Able Planet
4. The Pamphlet of Severra
5. Of Crown & Thorn
6. The Manifest Connection
7. Unclean Beginner
8. The Almanac of Larerawen
9. The Dictionary on the Spectre
10. The Vociferous Hell
11. The Primer of Yaregan
12. The Crossing and the Weeping
13. The Tale of Cadigoweth
14. The Toad-Eater's Coarse Tomato
15. The Atlas on the Sickle
16. The Ledger of Cheann
17. The Blasphemous Notion
18. The Repairman's Viscous Folio
19. Unstable Monarch
20. The Prophecy and the Dissertation
21. The Folio of Abelaven
22. The Comber's Carnal Sanctuary
23. The Gourmet's Periodical
24. The Encyclopedia of Kaoanidd
25. Of Sage & Decade
26. Imaginos: The Obsidian Mirror and the Chamber of Jade
27. The Grave and the Report
28. The Manuscript on Sin
29. Of Camel & Algebra
30. The Calm or the Rule
31. The Festering Jailor's Ghost
32. The Guidebook of Boajan
33. The Acater's Gazetteer
34. The Best People
35. The Ironworker's Tablet
36. The Bladed Wight
37. The Periodical of Siraviel
38. The Prince's Abysmal Battlefield
39. The Hopeless Grave
40. The Correspondence on the Lake
41. Bombarded Prince
42. The Translations of Zauri
43. The Advantaged Academy
44. Accentuated Boneman
45. The Tract of Etela
46. Annals of the Ape
47. Of Serving & Entrance
48. The Dissertation of Umassa
49. The Lineage of Eastern Dukes
50. Of Sorcerer & Collection
51. The Crime and the Claw
52. The Anxious Discrimination
53. The Voracious Aunt
54. The Town Crier's Annals
55. The Guide of Uniladith
56. Blackened Courier
57. The Original Student
58. The Bedeviled Infanticide
59. The Joker's Folio
60. Versed Poet
61. The Azotic Injury
62. The Monarch's Primer
63. The Honest Traveler's Dirt
64. Of Occurrence & Heaven
65. Intractable Footpad
66. The Legend of Rerif
67. The Handbook of Qani
68. The Star or the Legend
69. The Important Chaos Beast
70. Of Pump & Grapevine
71. The Apotheosis of Saints
72. The Encyclopedia on the Nothingness
73. The Longshoreman's Iron Golem and the Frost Worm
74. The Midnight Blue Clock
75. Of Strategy & Increase
76. The Custodian's Chemistry and the Creature
77. The Gravedigger's Bony Journal
78. The Labyrinth or the Eagle
79. The Novel of Rhoth
80. Of Sky & Codex
81. Besotted Gladiator
82. The Review of the Year (297)
83. Clever Librarian
84. The Pamphlet on the Shrieker
85. The Fool's Manuscript
86. The Translations of Fyth
87. The Crystal or the Hag Covey
88. The Cheese and the Crocodile
89. Unremitting Witch
90. The Seven Sleepers
91. The Edition of Gomannon
92. The Apprentice's Body and the Romance
93. The Grimoire of Helian
94. The Loser's Chicken and the Ogre
95. The Tired Ice
96. The Brochure on the Life
97. The Sapper's Review
98. The Anthology on the Heavens
99. Of Dress & Golem
100. The Tablet on the Jungle
101. The Grig and the Machinery
102. The Purser's Translations
103. Zealous Empress
104. The Scroll of Ethaya
105. The Lamentable Twin
106. Of Vermin & Celebration
107. Sensible Refugee
108. The Textbook of Diech
109. The Thegn's Tract
110. Aflame Villain
111. The Portfolio of Johadus
112. The Mustache or the Fist
113. The Book on Triviality
114. The Purple Country
115. Of Thing & Tome
116. …And We Fear the Worst
117. The Legend of Jererassi
118. The Glossary of Curses
119. The Compendium of Cerrac
120. The Volume on Death
121. Of Philosophy & Coal
122. Vested Brazier
123. The Dictionary of Jaliwyr
124. I Look to the Stars and Laugh
125. Of Monograph & Yarn
126. The Manuscript of Cen
127. The Lugubrious Symphony
128. The Booklet of Ethoi
129. Of Feeling & Drugs
130. Silken Alchemist
131. The Periodical on the Stirge
132. The Glossary of Nuthiel
133. The Favor and the Talisman
134. The Circular of Dreric
135. The Mistress of the Hounds's Vermiform Dissertation
136. The Journal of Unerip
137. The Drugs and the Month
138. The Desperate Lizardfolk
139. The Libretto of Yoremma
140. The Album of Haykith
141. Dry Sorcerer
142. The Opus on the Fraction
143. Of Grimoire & Accolade

The Ineffable Jest

There are mysteries at work in the world besides the gods and the beings from the cold hell of space. Some of these forces are easily witnessed, such as that which causes a hurled stone to plummet to the ground. Others are fickle powers that possess incomprehensible motives and unknown origins. Of these uncanny powers, the Ineffable Jest is the one most often cited when unexpected events—both for weal and woe—take place.

The Ineffable Jest rears its head when least expected and it can win battles and destroy empires on a whim. Combining elements of the Force, the Tao, and Murphy’s Law into one unfathomable force of nature, the Ineffable Jest is never worshiped, but often warded against and occasionally invoked by those in dire circumstances.

There are tales which connect the Ineffable Jest with a figure known only as the Laughing Fool. Debates rage amongst the wine-sodden sages of the Citadel of Mysteries as to whether the Laughing Fool is an avatar of the Ineffable Jest, one which has taken human form, or if it is a mortal servant chosen by that power as its temporary champion. A third school of thought argues that a connection exists between the Laughing Fool and the Splintered Court, that mysterious cabal of powers which contains the enigmatic figures of the King in Yellow, the Queen in Red, and the Black Jack, but any such relationship would be tenuous at best.

Jethal the Hexmaker

Apperance
Tall and thin, Jethal is usually dressed in yellow robes that give him a jaundiced appearance. His black hair is cut short and high in the back and slopes down to form long bangs that hide his smiling face. He regularly applies kohl around his eyes, making his eyes appear as if peering out of deep, dark pits.

Bio
Jethal the Hexmaker dwells in a hexagonal building on the Lane of Scales in Rhuun. He shares his abode with a bald and aged manslave and a seemingly docile leopard. Known to engage in magical experimentation, he utilizes a cadre of agents and the occasional adventurer to procure the ingredients these processes require.