Few days ago I returned from the Cauldron, “an OSR Euro Con,” a four day celebration of old-school Dungeons & Dragons.
Below are the reports from all the games I played in and run:
These reports are strictly focused on what happened in each game. Some are written from the perspective of characters I played so should be treated with scepticism. I share my reflection on the con here, and my preparations here.
Thursday games
Thursday Block I Temple of Doom Sidekick: EOTB's Convention Dungeon
In the first game of the con I ran a well oiled, barely dressed Kalinikos of Athena, a double axe wielding swashbuckler armoured with nothing but bracers of defense and cloak of protection. Adventuring party numbered nine in total, with three straight fighters, one ranger, one assassin, one cleric, one magic-user, one fighter-thief, and one fighter-magic-user. Humans dominated and we had but a single dwarf and an elf.
We begun our adventure with a descent down a long shaft leading into a third level of a sprawling complex. Several statues of warrior women greeted us. Those with nimble fingers explored them, finding little of interest. It did not take us long to find action, or rather for action to find us.
Upon penetrating the sanctity shadows befell us; as did the newly animated statues. They had proven to be most impotent in our presence, and Kalinikos crushed three of them. Our cleric made the shadows flee, weeping and wailing. They left a sticky, dark residue on the doors they fled through. One of us caressed it, and was promptly drained of their strength.
Moving on we encountered a despoiled and beheaded corpse suspended in the air. If it was suposed to be a warning sign or deterrent to discourage us from moving on, then it failed miserably for we touched it, read the plaque hanging around its neck stump, poked it, and ultimately, moved on.
This led us to an irregular chamber. Our superior senses and wicked wonder meant that we managed to ambush the ambushers whom had tried to jump us from beyond the secret doors. We had slain these pathetic mongrel-men in seconds.
Their chamber was completely bereft of anything. This arouse suspicion, for surely they couldn't have just been here all the time. We failed to find secret doors, but speculated there must be something here, perhaps a ceiling trapdoor.
We returned to the main chamber, found a penetrated skull that wanted to scream. Turned out it was head of the beheaded cleric. Moving about we discovered another ceiling trapdoor, went up, surprised more mongrel-men and exterminated them with haste. We kept one alive, but its limited communication ability meant it was of limited use to us. We learned they serve the shadow masters, there is an altar nearby, and yes, there is some treasure.
At this moment we were confident we have ascended into a separate complex, perhaps a small cult area. Thus, we roamed the chambers, removing all threats. One of the rooms had bedrolls and blankets; the floor trapdoor led into the secret chamber we had previously explored.
An octagonal room with a summoning circle and charred walls was just the place we sought. A long corridor, with alcoves every ten feet, joined it. At the end stood a grotesque altar, with statue so foul we knew there must be something there.
Given their infravision, the dwarf and elf could see bars of heat cutting horizontally across the pathway. Our hobbit drank the potion of climbing, crawled up and above the heat bars, and then dropped down. He learned that the statue is trapped, that there is a secret compartment, and that something black is leaking from its eyes. As statue rose to its unlife, he spidered back to us, and we left the chamber to regroup and prepare for this demon.
I chugged the potion of speed, while one of kind souls cast protection from evil. Then we opened the doors, hacked the demon to pieces, and drove its summoned shadows away. Seeing that the treasure was now unprotected, and that I was still lightning fast I called out to others:
“Leave the chamber! I will grab the treasure at once!”
Alas, others merely repositioned themselves within the area, instead of leaving the octagonal chamber and long corridor. I sprinted to the end of the corridor, breaking all three beams. The first one triggered a loud alarm. The second made me weak like a newborn calf. Third one did nothing.
I quickly poured acid on the trap rune, smearing it. Then I pulled the compartment open. Inside were a robe dotted with countless stars, and six magnificent, silvery tubes. As I turned to inform the colleagues of this great find, fireball exploded from within the summoning circle, kill three adventurers, and wounding the rest.
“Why didn't you step outside!” I cried out, whilst recovering treasure. We picked our dead, valuables, and left for the surface. Great success.
Thursday Block II: Halls of Viridian Mist
A party of eleven adventurers tumbled down a gigantic pit trap. They tumbled and rolled, until the landed into a foul pit full of refuse. Green chocking mist burned their eyes and obscured their vision.
In order, they were: Carmea of Tiberon, a human vicar; Cig Akgahnte, a human hero; Dacyniel, an elf hero theurgist; Ira Thorncreek, a hobbit hero; Jaki Wittyleg, a dwarf hero; Lefno Gaithh, a human theurgist; Menar Chigun, a human theurgist; Nacyn, an elf hero theurgist; Trasir Wisestorm, a dwarf hero; Ulla Valmasniz, a dwarf hero; and Zarah the Wicked, a human theurgist.
Rancid mist made everyone gag, and thus with some quick thinking everyone fashioned face covers of cloth. Their eyes were teary; torches and lanterns penetrated barely fifteen feet ahead. Quick-witted Nacyn suggested a marching order where everyone holds onto a rope. That way, even if they cannot see each other, at least then can hold onto the same object.
Milling about, they were confident that the pit was roughly rectangular, natural cavern, some forty by forty feet. Refuse poured downwards, in the south-east direction. A heart-rending, finger-curling, blood-freezing scream cut through the fog. Cig, Ira, Zarah, Trasir, Ulla, and Lefno felt courage and talent leave them in equal measure.
As if that wasn't enough, three ghouls jumped them from above, landing amongst them. Desperate melee ensued, with adventurers screaming in equal measure as the living dead. Zarah succumbed to horrible ghoulish paralysis, right after slaying one. Trasir and Nacyn each disposed of one ghoul as well.
Motivated to move quickly, the party asked Nacyn to take the lead—she was at the front of the rope. Thus, she slid down the foul refuse, then turned left. She could barely see the tunnels ahead, so she chose the one closest to her left. This one led them up, towards the screaming.
In the commotion, paralysed Zarah was left behind in the refuse pit. Unable to move, unable the see; but able to feel, able to think, and able to weep. She felt every claw, every bite, every second the ghouls had feasted on her flesh.
Nacyn followed the right cave wall, but led the adventurers into a dead end! More ghouls ravaged the back rank, but were quickly driven back. Dacyniel, elf who was at the end of the rope now found himself at the front.
“Right, right, follow the right wall!”
Indeed, they tapped the right cave wall, reached another split, and then took the right turn, climbing up. This led them to a portcullis. An attempt to discuss was cut short by intermittent screaming and fleshy footsteps echoing through the cave. Jaki Wittyleg drank the potion of giant strength. Then he held up the grates while others came through.
Stair leading up to their immediate left were enough to make them abandon the “right-hand” strategy. The dwarf tore straight through the doors, then placed them back as the elf cast hold portal on them.
They were now in a proper, hewn chamber. Flagstones were covered with gold pieces strewn all about. Viridian mist was ever present, making exploration rather difficult. By all accounts, the chamber was forty feet long and thirty feet wide. Three wells were lined along the east wall.
These wells perplexed the adventurers to no end. The water was fresh and potable. Whatever they dropped into it vanished at the same depth, at all three wells. They tied a small sack of coins and lowered it. It vanished. They pulled it back up. It was still the same sack, soaked and filled with their coins. Finally, Jaki and Menar dared take a dive. Both were surprised to emerge on the other side, their heads pointing up. They went down and were back up. And then down and back up again!
The whole party agree this is the way forward, so they all took a dive in the same well, emerging into the chamber on the other side. This one was much larger, and of angular geometry that cannot be described. It spanned nearly 6 000 square feet, most of it cloaked with the fog. It too had three wells—one in the south, one in the south-west, and one in the north-west. Doors were to the east, north-east, and north. The last ones were chosen.
Jaki the Doorbasher did his duty once more. Before them was a hundred foot long corridor, of slope noticeable only to the dwarves. The dead end had been seen through as merely a mockery for the inexperienced. Elves quickly found not one, but two secret doors. One leading further north, and one leading east.
Doorbasher took care of the sliding doors. They led to chamber unmolested by the mist. This twenty by twenty room was quite spartan, but comfortable, with a framed bed, and a large desk with attached drawers. Rummaging through the latter revealed 1 000 gold pieces, and a scroll with magic missile, wall of iron, control weather, and lower water. Lefno claimed the scroll.
Jaki proceeded to completely break the secret sliding doors leading north. The corridor split left and forward. Jaki went for the left doors, pulled on them, and a scythe severed both of his hands. The dwarf cried out in pain as others dragged him backwards. They cauterised his stumps, and used cure light wounds to stop the profuse bleeding. Cig and Ira made fun of him.
Six ravenous ghouls charged the adventurers from behind. This time the party was ready, and thus dispatched them within minutes. Doorbasher, tears streaming down his rosy cheeks, was unwilling to abandon hope. Thus, he soldiered on.
Adventurers moved further north, entering an octagonal chamber dominated with a blood stained stone platform attached to chains leading into the ceiling. A massive iron ring was drilled into each corner. A spoked wheel was in the centre of west wall. It feel out when adventurers tried to interact with it. While the dwarves investigated it, Dacyniel levitated upwards and Ira climbed one of the chains. Up and up they went, until they decided to descend sans they fall and die.
“This is the way out, for sure!”
Alas, dwarves had sad news to report—gears that the wheel was connected to were damaged. They could fix them if they had the right tools and materials...
The party continued exploring the corridors. They found another doors, Jaki kicked them and jumped back in time before another scythe took his leg. Dead end.
Portcullis blocked the advance into the cave system. They made a circle—the corridors looped around the octagonal chamber. As they discussed what to do, three minotaurs had charged them. A brutal skirmish broke out, with adventurers squeezed from both the front and the rear.
But they did not give in, and they did not give up. They fought back, tooth and claw. Nacyn leaped upwards, and decapitated one of the horned beasts. Trasir bust the kneecaps of another, while others chopped it to pieces. Cig gutted the last one as Jaki punted it up in the air. Then he Chopped its horns off, and offered them to Jaki as “new and improved hands.”
Adventurers had a choice to make, namely which way now? West-most corridor they said. What a great choice, for the elves had soon detected a secret chamber with an assortment of gears. Dwarves picked up several they thought would fit best.
Whilst dwarves worked on repairing the platform, others watched guard. But this was a horrible spot, with four different ways to approach it. They could hear the ghouls moving around, obscured by the mist.
Nearly two hours later, the dwarves reported they fixed the problem. Exhausted and bloodied, everyone rushed to the platform. Alas, a new problem had appeared. Who will operate the wheel?
“I have levitate. I can get you up, and then fly after you!”
Lefno volunteered. He cast the wall of iron to block off the northern approach, sealing them off. Then they cast invisibility on him. The wheel was heavy to operate, but the theurgist managed it. The platform slowly rose upwards, with a loud clang.
Lefno turned the wheel. And turned the wheel. And turned the wheel. He turned as he heard the wall of iron retract, having now completely smashed through the portcullis. He turned it as he heard the grunts, the retches, and the howls of the dead come closers and closer. He turned as he heard the footsteps all around him. He turned until his friends were safe; he turned until he felt them right behind him; he turned until he could turn no more.
Lefno. Illustrated by Darnok.
Friday games
Friday Block I: Abattoir of The Impotent Idolater
Eleven adventurers had been hired by the loyalists of the Broken Empire to recover the famed regalia of Legio IX. In order, they are: Aegiliel, an elf hero theurgist; Astrid Hunnisdottir, a dwarf hero; Cig Akgahnte, a human hero; Fenna Redbulk, a dwarf hero; Gromonicus, a human hero; Ira Thorncreek, a hobbit hero; Karelia Tolfind, a dwarf hero; Larana Lightstep, a human hero; Mezeth the Uncanny, a human theurgist; Uta Almonger, a human hero; and Vida Pilter, a human vicar.
The party followed the trail into deep in the woods, leading to a cave mouth ninety feet wide and sixty feet tall. Beyond it a large cave stretched further north and south. Broken branches, trampled bushes and leaves, and large, elephantine tracks suggest high traffic.
Adventuring party decided to back off and establish camp several hundred yards away from the cave. They ordered their men-at-arms to find suitable branches to sharpen for the palisades. At the same time they tended to their animals, staking them in the centre of the camp. At the third hour, horrible screams pierced the air. The voices are well known, for they are of their own men.
Battle positions are taken, facing north-west. The ground shakes, the trees scream as they are shattered under the bulk of oncoming monstrosity. It comes at the adventurers, flailing, cackling, and charging. Large, elephant-like body covered with warts, boils, and scabs. Seven deformed horse heads atop long tubular necks, adorned with yellowed square teeth, greasy, lanky long hair, and eyes of pure madness.
Gromonicus the Brave acknowledges no such horrors, as attested by him counter-charging the abomination. He was promptly trampled, but lived. The horror continued its mad charge, reaching Aegiliel. The elf dodges and parried three of the seven heads. Alas, other four bit into him—one into the left shoulder, one onto the collarbone from the right, one bit into the right leg, and one the left foot. The heads pulled all in different directions, ripping the elf apart and showering the survivors with gore and guts.
One of the theurgists cast phantasmal force and created a swarm of mice. The abomination cared not. Mezet cast sleep, and slept Uta, Vida, Gromonicus, Cig, and himself. Others closed in, bravely fighting the monster. Slashing it made them recoil with disgust, as pus and blood oozed from the horror. Gromonicus, now asleep, was put to permanent sleep when it accidentally stomped on his head.
Warhorses were calm as ever, for this was just another day for them. One of the light horses was spooked, but calmed by his master. In the brutal skirmish the abomination lost two of its heads, and fled into the cave. Aynora the Jovial, a human vicar, and Parnasselis, a human vicar, had just arrived, chasing the beast on their warhorses. Alas, the horses refused to enter the cave,
Adventurers slapped the sleeping awake, left the dead to sleep, and rushed towards the cave. They cared little for the standard of Scrituin The Pacifier of Seven Tribes. This was now about vengeance.
They entered the cave, following the trail of blood and suppuration. Into the large cave, and down the one hundred and twenty feet long tunnel; into a humongous cave broken by large columns, making it a labyrinthine experience. The trail continue straight east, but adventurers followed the south cave wall instead, slowing down to a crawl. They are heroes; experienced in the art of war, and thus, they seek tactical advantage.
A horde of giant rats do not surprise them—scrawny, hairy, bottom-feeders fight each other to lick and slurps the trail left behind by the abomination. Laran, thinking on her feet, mixes belladonna with fresh rations, and then chucks them at the critters. They gorge in darkness, as the adventurers continue their pursuit.
The trail leads them down another long tunnel slopping downwards. Astrid, Fenna, and Karelia were well aware of how deep they went, now fifty feet underground.
Weird gargling and choking sounds echoed through the cave. Stumps of broken stalagmites, and crushed bones littered the floor. Heavy stench of cat-piss and avian faeces dominated the air. Moving forth, the abomination came into light. It was sitting down, on all four legs, its dead heads submerged into the fresh-water pond surrounded by decorative stones all around. Remaining heads wept foul tears.
Adventurers cared not for its tears. They charged the monster, and hacked it to pieces. The battle was savage, but no lossess were suffered amongst the brave.
And then song, an angelic choir broke out. Everyone but Cig, Mezet, Karelia, and Fenna were enchanted by it. Wishing to see what wondrous being sings so beautifully, adventurers rose their torches and lanterns.
South cave wall was in fact a twenty foot tall ledge. Three harpies perched there, singing. Mezet cast sleep, putting two of them, and himself down. Parnasselis cast light so he could see them better, having now devoted himself entirely. This revealed that the cave extends further up, with even more harpies hiding in the natural alcoves.
Astrid led a construction effort, making stairways to heaven from iron spikes. Others joined. Cig pretended to be charmed. Fenna was having none of it, and was shooting her crossbow at the single awake harpy that was still here.
Parnasselis now cast speak with animals, and addressed the harpies, wondering how he could serve them best.
“Kill the ugly one! Kill them! Give us the crown! Save us, save us, our knight on the white horse!” cried two harpies hiding at the top. The awake one screeched back at them, but was shot by Fenna.
From now on, it was total madness. Astrid climbed up, grabbed the closest sleeping harpy, and began caressing her beak. Ira stripped naked, took his shield, and then paddled across the pond, climbed up the cave wall, then back down to fetch treasure for the beautiful sleeping angel.
Vida and Aynora bothered the catatonic giant hairy man whom they found in the harpy nest. He was nearly seven feet tall, broad shouldered and wide legged. Dark hairs covered him, sans the shoulders which were covered with moss. His chest was wide open, clawed and gnawed.
“Wake up! Wake up to meet our lord and saviour, the harpies!” Aynora shook the man. Vida healed him, twice, for he was still breathing, despite massive wounds. Ira returns to the sleeping harpy with his magical sword and tries to give it to her. Thus, he wakes her up. Cig executes the harpy caressed by Astrid; the dwarf scalps the harpy and puts it on her head.
“Now I am as pretty as her...” she mutters.
Parnasselis strikes the harpy next to Ira, and commands his staff to coil around her. Ira tries to set her free by attacking the giant snake. Large cave man snaps out of coma, begins grunting and moaning, and immediately grabs Vida with an iron grip. Aynora tries to help and nearly kills Vida in the process.
Cig beheads the constrained harpy. Astrid continues her transformation by severing the harpy's beak and tying it on. In the meantime, two smaller harpies from the above have descended and engaged the only awake one. The bigger harpy had immediately slain one of the smaller one, but then got entangled with the other. Fenna missed most of her shots, as did Karelia. Parnasselis cried out to be noticed. He ran off the edge, and performed front flip backwards, landing into the pond. No attention was given.
Vida smashes the caveman back into the coma, while those uncharmed finally bring the final harpy down. Now back to their senses, the adventurers spend good time searching the nest, rowing through avian refuse, and remains of their victims. An hour or so later, and all they find are three gems, a scroll with read languages, and a map to magical treasure. Three large harpies were adorned with jewellery—bracelets, tiaras, necklaces, rings—worth nearly twenty thousand gold pieces. Most of that was now on Astrid.
They descended and advanced further north, having remembered their original mission. Adventurers soon reached a junction splitting four ways. Vile stench of rot, pus, and body odour emanated forth from the cave to their left. Thousands of coins were strewn all over the cave floor, covered with greasy, thin, strings of dark hair and shredded scabs. Cig braved the horrible conditions and moved in. He soon spotted an intact standard—gold eagle with spread out wings atop twenty foot long redwood pole—in the west-most alcove. He recovered it.
Mezet took the standard, and cast invisibility on himself. It was large and heavy, so he had to use both hands to carry it. Having decided they have enough treasure, as well as the item they came for, the party begun their retreat.
A horde of giant rats were feasting on the abomination's corpse. Some of them looked groggy and ill. Adventurers helped by throwing some rations with belladonna, as before. Then they backtracked west, up the first long tunnel, and accross the large cave.
And then song, an angelic choir broke out. Cig, Astrid, Karelia, and Fenna resisted the call of doom. Others failed. Ira stripped naked once more. Many attempted to climb the columns, which had now been revealed to be twenty to thirty feet tall.
“Don't climb... Just follow...” the harpies sung.
Pissed off Fenna shot the closer one down. Cig attempted to intimidate them by flaunting his cloak made of severed harpies wings. It did not work.
“Teleport me to her. I want to hugh her. Teleport me right next to her.” Larana instructed her sentient sword.
“Uh, Larana, are you sure?” the sword asked back.
“Yes, yes I am.”
“KKRREEEEEEEEE–” the harpy screeched as Larana appeared right next to her and hugged her hard. The floated down, near the cave floor. Soon both Vida and Uta threw themselves there are well, all intent on hugging their desire.
Ira climbed up the column atop which a wounded harpy laid. Then she picked her up, and jumped down, trying to save her. The harpy died, while the hobbit merely suffered some injuries. Aynora cried as she poured a potion of healing down the harpy's throat.
Mezet the Invisible, took out his wand of fear, and blasted everyone piled up on his harpy. Larana, Vida, Fenna, Karelia, and Cig fled the caves at once. Astrid decided she had enough of this malarkey, picked up the standard, and left the cave as well.
Harpy fled, and Ira chased it deeper, into darkness. Parnasselis, Uta, Aynora, and Mezet managed to get out.
Survivors mounted their horses, and left for civilisation to collect their well earned bounty.
Friday Block II: Palace of the Eternal Autocrat
There was a time when I was known as Armon Targ.
A time so distant, and so murky I am not sure if it was a fever dream or reality. Last I remember is an adventure with eleven other men. Pardero, a terran fighting man. Talion, an imperial fighting man. Ugg, and Oog Booga, two cavemen. Zothar, Birakor, and Rashid, all teran magic-users. Valgard, a northman thief. Anthony, an imperial thief. Icarium, a terran thief. And one more, a hoplite servant.
We set out for some island, upon which a ruined palace of forgotten tyrant rested. Wealth. Magic. Power. Adventure. Death. All part of my life back then. I remember us disembarking. We crawled the compound, defiling the giant stone head with stern face. Must have been the tyrant himself. It spoke cryptic non-sense, as those in power usually do.
An impenetrable violet building with onion top dominated the estate. It had six glass eyes. We were unable to penetrate its double bronze doors, no matter how much we tried. Then we found a burly looking one-eyed man tending to scrawny chickens. He was cursed, or something. I do not remember.
I zoned out and followed others. From time to time I commanded my sword, “Scout,” to detect evil or gold. I miss it. It served me well back in the day. We entered some sort of magical swirl and were teleported deep underground.
Disturbing the Autocrat's gardens.
We traversed the corridors with great speed, until we found a staircase leading further down. I remember we refused to take them at the time, opting to explore foul chambers filled with refuse, both organic and inorganic. We were assaulted by nine shambling, bloated, yellow zombies. They were no threat.
This brought us back to the stairs, and its bearded guardian. We fed it gold coins, rations, and bones. I was foolish, and was soon paralysed and sucked in by a transparent mass of acidic goo. My allies saved me. Sometimes I think of them. I do not miss them.
At the bottom was a sizeable chamber with walls of shimmering gold. Twelve mosaic figures holding a candle light were upon them. Seven of them detected as evil, while the rest were good. We moved on, finding several stairs leading up. Then we found some chambers with foodstufs, water, and spices. Around this time I was able to move again.
We opened, I do not remember how but suspect one of our thieves, an iron door with a peeping hole. Before us, far ahead, was a congregation of people dressed in fantastic togas! To this day I do not know who they were, and why there were so deep underground. At that time we believed them to be evil, and in need of extermination.
I led the charge. It was a foolish mistake. We killed few of them in the initial surprise. But we underestimated how many of them there was. I was soon surrounded by their guards and servants, fighting for my life. Their pathetic warriors meant nothing. But then they brought the philosophers. That damn philosophers.
One of them had blown my left leg off. I lamented the loss of that leg for years. If only I knew I would loose much more in the future. But I digress. The situation was dire. My ears were buzzing. Strange men pounded on me, but I somehow parried. Then I asked the Scout to detect if these men were evil.
“No.”
“What do you mean no?!”
I offered that this was merely a misunderstanding, and that we should part ways. The offered to part me with my life instead. Filled with hatred, I quaffed my potion of speed, intent on rapidly crawling towards the philosopher who wounded me, and hacking him to death.
At this moment the entire hall filled with rapidly growing crystalls! This freaked out flamboyant toga men, and they allowed us to leave at once. We fled like curs. I was certain I would die, there and then. But one of the magic-users performed a miracle. He operated me for an hour. The leg was gone, there was nothing to do about that. Now I hobbled on an ill fitted wooden peg. It hurt like hell, but I was alive.
From then on my recollection is even murkier. I remember me hobbling behind others, speaking with my sword and fighting with bow. We explored some cave filled with garbage. A god of beggars roamed there. We fled.
Around that time we discovered a series of chambers where tyrant left another statue of his. It was all fake, just like himself. Nearby we encountered some vile creatures with skeletal arms and bloated bodies. They gazed in my eyes, but I spat in their direction and hobbled back. It is there we found a bowl full of treasure suspended high in the air. Must have been the lair of those two horrors we had dispatched.
Loaded with treasure we sought exit. We took one of the stairs leading up. Then we made all the wrong turns. Or right, depending on how you think about it. There were yellowed, bloated zombies which melted our flesh. Oog Booga fell down a pit trap, landing into the trash lair. I shot at everything that moved. We prevailed. Then we roamed the endless corridors, more desperate with each step.
One of the magic-users, I forget which, in a moment of desperate inspiration, opened a gate towards another dimension. We stepped through without much thought. Surely, wherever he took us would be better than here, in the tomb of this insane tyrant.
There was a time when I was known as Armon Targ.
That was before. When I was a nobody.
But now?
Everybody knows my name in the Barbarian Altanis.
Friday Night Block: Sunken Redoubt of the Serpentine Lich
I played Brother Warby Parker, a lawful good human patriarch with above average wisdom and dexterity. But his truly outstanding feature was exceptional charisma. His vainness was equally exceptional.
“We must slay Tenochli!” Gork of the Flame Lizard, a flame lizard mounted on a giant lizard, hissed. The target was a lizard druid, whom had betrayed them some time ago. They suspected him to be a lich now.
Having spent months in the Underwilds of the Darkness Beneath, I came to accept such characters as everyday occurrence. Many weird souls pass through the Cliff City of Thousand Spears. Either way, the burning lizard and his retinue could surely use my help. And I could use their night dragon to get out. All this darkness has been unhealthy to my tan.
Prior to setting out, I divined what awaits us. We were to go into some sort of fungal forest, dominated with fungal creatures. In my visions I saw fungits, floating spherical fungi with spore eyes on the tentacles; fungents, thirty feet tall walking fungi; mantis men; giant moths flying about; ancient technology; weird bushy people with mystic power; a giant slimefall; and a clearing in the fungi. The latter two felt sinister and dangerous.
We mounted the night dragon, whom then took us from the cliff rim to underwilds, a thirty mile journey crossed in a bat of an eye. We had seen obelisk shrines, triceratops munching on grass, dark trolls roaming about, marauding demihuman gangs, and more. After we landed, the dragon left us with a whistle to summon it when we want to get back home.
How it started.
Our half-elf ranger scouted ahead of us. This allowed us to hide from a dark troll gang, raptor-like dinosaurs, and a pack of wild board. We eventually reached a thick fungi forest, or rather, a jungle, with tall canopies as tall as fifty feet. The dwarf thief climbed the planar shelf-fungus and surveyed the cavern. He reported fungiwalks connecting the canopies. All of us quickly ascended.
As we marched, I quickly bonded with Dave the Demonologist, who seemed like the only serious person. My judgement has once again proven to be correct, as the man was truly a force to be reckoned with. Thus, in my infinite wisdom, I knew that my divine duty was to protect him at all costs.
Slimy brackish water, covered with rotting vegetation, criss-crossed the forest. We spotted a clearing circled by giant toadstools glowing with indigo light. Since these did not match those I had divined, we approached.
“Do you want to be a friend or foe?” little voices asked.
“Friend!” Gork grunted.
Turned out this was a circle of some small faeries whom were terrorised by giant spiders of abominable intelligence. They begged us to help them, with little to offer but their circle—which was enchanted against non-intelligent monsters—and tears. Being lawful and good, we had accepted. That, and we had a faerie knight among us as well. They provided us two of their own to lead the way.
Some hundred and fifty yards of the forest was completely webbed. Dave summoned a fire elemental. Then he sent it to sauté the fungi and giant spiders. Roaring flames and hissing sounds filled the air. It all went quiet after ten minutes. We went in. Four burnt husks, two twitching ones, and three intact spiders. The battle was quickly over. Magic-users blasted them with magic missiles, our warriors crushed them with their magical weapons, and I sent my spiritual hammer to bang them.
We kept one alive to interrogate it. There was little to learn from it, except that there is a necromancer with zombie army south-east from here. I thought we'd let it live but someone blasted it to pieces. Then we recovered treasure from past victims. Faeries threw us a feast, gifted us necklaces of crystallised tears, and complimented my looks repeatedly. We slept well. Magic-users studied their spells, while I prayed for mine.
Onwards we went, across the fungiwalks again. At one moment our scouts spotted a dishevelled man picking fungi down below. I made myself know and hailed the man politely. He seemed fine, so I asked him if it was okay if we came down to speak with him face to face.
The man was Woebegone Kernoble, a druid and former adventurer whom had been living here for who knows how long. His party had been vanquished, and he was the lone survivor. Although slightly unhinged, with my gentle guidance and kind character, I reached out to the man he once was. The druid was a wellspring of intelligence, telling us all about dangerous hundred feet tall fungemoth, the necromancer and zombies and purple worm under his control, the haunted lake, the erratic fungents, the aggressive fungits, and much more. Furthermore, I managed to persuade him to join us and lead the way to the necromancer.
On the way there I was chocked by the vines, we encountered four fungents but pacified them, and passed a slimefall, but not the one from my visions. Eventually we reached a prismatic wall preventing way forward. Magic-users used stoneshape to shape a shallow ditch underneath it. Then they sent wizard eyes to scout. This was the place.
How it ended. Photo by James Knight.
Seventy two fungal-zombies divided into twelve neat columns. Beyond them a smaller cave with evil presence and wall of thorns. Dave cast passwall and we stormed in with righteous rage. My chosen duty was to protect Dave. My sister, the high priestess, copied me, as she usually does, and we fought side by side.
Dave controlled the air elemental, magic-users burned and blasted through the hordes, the warriors charged forth, hacking and crushing everything in their path. A purple worm erupted from the ground, swallowing Gork whole. I remained resolute, next to Dave, obliterating the zombies with my Staff of Striking. I did not care for its limited charged! The magic-users had to be protected at all costs.
This strategy paid of handsomely as the lizard lich appeared, and was promptly elemental-handled by Dave's air. Warriors gutted the purple worm, and chased the traitorous Tenochli. I remained with wizards, cleaning up remaining zombies. The lizard druid lich was soon completely surrounded, locked in deadly struggle with his former allies. He beheaded Gork and the fairy knight. We resurrected the former.
Dave was high up in the air, surrounded by protective sphere. He commanded the air elemental. Others have forced Tenochli against the cave wall and were mercilessly pounding on him. I, on the other hand, was more interested in phylactery, which there were two of, hidden in the wall of thorns.
Tenochli hissed and screamed until he was no more. Phylacteries were indeed beyond the wall of thorns, their inimical evil presence oppressive beyond comprehension. Their please had no effect on me; I crushed both with my staff of striking before they could finish their offer.
Now there was one less evil in the world. But I felt something in the pit of my stomach. Something worse. The Satan returned.
Saturday games
Saturday Block I: Temple of the Gnoll God
In this game I played Amphi of Tiranos, a human swashbuckler, with good armour, some magical throwing axes, and otherwise mundane weapons. This was a straightforward temple raid—get in, find treasure, take treasure, get out. The party numbered seven characters in total.
The temple was set deep in dire hills, infested with gnolls, in a peaceful valley. Temple itself was elevated, and surrounded by man-made canals. After days of observing them, we learned of a secret entrance rarely used. We guessed this must be a backdoor, and thus went that way.
Planning the temple assault.
It was a rather long walk, straight. We noticed that the tunnel was rather well made, potentially of dwarven construction. The dead end was, as we suspected, a secret door. We heard heavy footsteps and grunts on the other side. Breaking through surprised the three gnolls on the other side, and we killed them without mercy.
This was obviously a guard room. We destroyed the halberds and severed the bowstrings. Then we spiked the east doors with halberd tips. Going west I fell straight down a pit and got impaled on some spikes. Not a good showing, I admit.
Bell shaped chamber with a demonic statue was our next challenge.
“Speak your praise to that who should not be named!” it spoke in gurgly gnollish. We took too long to think so we were promptly burned. The statue was surely of their foul god. We continued down the north corridor, passing one doors, and detecting one secret doors with subtle dwarf rune. There we found a dwarven skeleton, rusty knife or spike in its hand.
“Here I carve my last words. The revolt has failed.” one of our dwarven read the runes to us. As we had suspected, this temple must have been built by dwarven slaves.
Moving upstairs we entered another bell shaped room. The walls were covered with frescoes of gnoll shamans performing horrible deeds against men and all those aligned with Law. This time we found concealed elven scripture, a signature and message from an elf slave forced to paint this horrible vista.
Pushing further north, we broke through yet another doors, slaying six more gnolls. This was yet another guard chamber, with four doors in total. Reasoning that we are looking for the temple vault, and that we should keep moving north-west, we chose the north doors.
They led us into a spacious chamber dominated by charnel smell. Our light did not reach the ceiling. But it was sufficient to illuminate a gigantic version of statue we had previously encountered—except this one was much more ghoulish. This foul chamber had six egresses.
We were soon assaulted by eight ghouls. The clerics turned back five of them, while we disposed of the rest, but not before some of us succumbed to their ghastly paralysis. Long stairs led north. South corridor led into a cavernous chamber filled with bones and rotting remains of hundreds of poor souls. We failed to penetrate the doors to the east, them being barred from the other side.
Returning to the gnoll god chamber, we opted for the north-east passage. We found another secret dwarf chamber, with a list of names, avoided a pit trap, and then forced our way in what could best be described as a study of mad man. Or rather, mad ghoul. Hamish Westberry was a sage specialised in the antiquarian imperial vases.
Apparently he spent years, or decades, in this very room, never leaving it. He was absolutely useless. We had little choice but to terminate his research once for all. He was tough, but we were tougher, and thus walked away with a tiara, some gems, two thousand gold pieces, and two returning throwing daggers.
We backtracked to the second guard chamber, explored beyond the west doors, but found they just loop back to the corridor between the statue and corpse chambers. Therefore, we decided to take the long stairs.
Fascinatingly, mid-way up we found a secret doors on the east wall. We entered into a rectangular chamber covered with dust. Faded frescoes of demonic figures adorned the walls. Going north, we found a square chamber with most curious features. Walls were painted red with yellow runes and scripts scrawled all over. A yellow statue stood opposite us. it had two red rubies for its eyes.
Of course it animated and started blasting us. I stepped in and chucked my magical throwing axes. Magic-users and clerics cast dispel magic on it, shutting it down for some rounds. But the combat was just heating up. Doors to the sides swung open, and eight horrible creatures poured in. I knew them well. Large, tough, wicked. The thouls were here.
I focused on the statue, smashing it. Desperate melee ensued, as we dropped, one by one, to the thoul paralysis. But paladin stood steadfast, with his ring that granted him immunity. We ultimately stood victorious.
Beelining for the vault.
There was some minor treasure here and in the adjoining chambers. Our superior adventuring instincts were proven correct once more as we detected secret doors leading deeper west.
Beyond was a funnel shaped chamber filled with broken pottery. One of the magic-users fixated on it, ending up confused. There was but a single way forward in the shape of a single slab of ivory. This led us into a toroid corridor with five secret doors. Three were on the outer side, at north, west, and south. Two were on the inner side, namely north and south.
South doors led into a domed chamber some thirty feet in diameter. The insides looked like a grey matter. It felt evil as fuck. We shut the doors.
West doors led into a hemispherical chamber, seventy feet in diameter. A ball of darkness engulfed most of the chamber, roughly sixty feet in diameter. We throw some coins, and heard them rolling. Dispelling magic revealed a lantern on a pedestal, and four large shadow mastiffs chained to it. They began barking and wailing. The darkness returned. We left.
South doors led us into trouble, as five spectres came at us once we opened them. The smallest of three chambers. just twenty feet in diameter. The clerics turned them, but the bastards fled into the central chamber instead.
Going all in, we followed, forcing the secret doors on the inner rim. We faced off a spectre so grim others cried at its feet. One of our magic-users used the Wand of Wonder. The spectre commanded the lesser ones to vacate the chamber. It took us few seconds to realise that our ally and our enemy have switched bodies! We jumped the magic-user and hog-tied him well.
Our plunder was impressive ninety thousand gold pieces, eleven gems of great worth, two potions, a cloak, and a bag of holding that came in most handy. We left the complex without anyone noticing us at all.
Saturday Block II: Return to the Storm Giant's Castle
I continued with Brother Warby Parker, having escaped the Darkness Beneath and now travelled all they way up to the Storm Giant's Castle.
It had been yeas, if not decades, since I saved the baby Squall from Satan. He was kidnapped, taken into the clouds beneath his parents' castle, and presented as a moral dilemma to the orange dragon Bangalore.
Baby Squall was now a young adult Tempest. His parents were gone, and he established a silk operation on the clouds. Somehow, the Satan has returned. Or so he believe, for he was plagued with infernal visions. He offered us a harp worth one million gold pieces should we be able to check what is going on beneath and resolve the issue. After all, he worried greatly about his pigsy servants. We accepted, and were served a feast of 30 000 quail eggs. This made us bloaty enough to walk on the clouds.
Like before, I divined to learn more about the threats below us. My sister, the copy-cat she is, communed instead. We learned that there was a whirlwind of lava sent from Hell, that there are cloud people and static monsters (which I had remembered from before, but was good to have divine confirmation nonetheless), and that there would indee be major and minor devils.
From the God we learned that they are immune to fire, not so much to lightning and cold, and that most are immune to paralysation. We also learned that they are not expecting us, that solution to the problem is at the bottom of the clouds, that there are potential allies down there, and that Satan himself is not in the cloud.
I checked Tempest and the castle, just to make sure neither were penetrated by evil. Everyone and everything checked out, and we descended down to the first level.
The first level was still friendly, with servants tending the silk farms. We got mundane equipment we needed, and then we rappelled down to the second level.
The second level, like all other levels to be fair, was a series of cloudy chambers. We discovered a cloud full of balloon people freely floating around. Since they were evil we begun popping them. Our gnome scout punctured a green one, who explored and billowed out chlorine gas. That did not feel great. We blasted them all, and then seized several wands of lightning they used to fight back.
Bursting the cloud men. Photo by James Knight.
At this moment I wish to mention that I was mostly hanging out with Dave, whom I had met in the Underwilds. Our party of ten was led by a spectacular duo of most capable paladin and a ranger. There were several powerful wizard, a hyper-muscular Mr. T. And there was a gnome.
The Muscle Man recovered a twelve feet long sword—which turned out to be a sword of dancing! He was the only one strong enough to carry it around.
Third level was filled with blinding light. We rubbed some of the holy water provided by Tempest into our eyes. God protects. Eventually we stumbled upon a Ki-rin trapped in an energy web. A bald hobo in a lotus position hovered above it. He offered to release the mythical animal if we answer three riddles.
Our combined intelligence and wisdom were too much for him, and we got them all. (Although we had to use augury to increase our odds of answering the last one.) Answers, in order, were: Lucifer, death, and wind and fire. Hovering hobo attached himself to out paladin, hovering over his shoulders at all times. He kept reciting poetry, forevermore.
Square cloudhole led into the fourth level. And what a level it was! A large driving circuit, going all around, with two bridges cutting across. A fiery whirlwind of roaring flames in the centre, spewing horrible evil.
We found the problem.
And we were about to solve it.
The infernal circuit.
Magic-users, including Dave, mounted the Ki-rin and flew down. At the far edge of the race track was a biker gang made up of fallen sylphs—The Stratoside Girls—revving their motorcycles. They were covered in tattoos, and leather jackets were their only clothing articles. An infernal succubus led them.
Our magic-users failed to surprise them, and were soon driven back up. The gang begun driving around the track, mocking us, blasting their wands. Ki-rin was quick and resistant enough to carry our people back up. We revised our plan.
Mr. T held two ropes with, we rappelled down. Magic-users came down on ki-rin once more, casting ice storm and confusion. They froze several portions of the track, sending many of the biker sylphs to their doom. The confusion added to the chaos.
But the party was just about to get heated.
Three horrible storm devils emerged from the fiery vortex—blue skinned, with violet claws and ridges. We hit them with everything we had. Meteor swarms, a phantasmal dragon, fireballs, magic missiles, wands, you name it. Since I could neither fly, nor had any means of ranged combat, I limited myself to smashing an errant biker sylph here and there.
Just as we thought that we are about to win, clouds parted! The succubus gang leader returned with her boyfriend, the Archdevil Beelzebub! And he brought his two servants, true pit fiends!
I ran along the track as my allies pounded on the storm devils, vanquishing them one by one. I ran to the edge of the track; I stood there and smashed my Staff of Striking into the clouds. Then I grabbed my mithril cross with both hands, rose it high above my head and roared:
“I EXORCIZE YOU, EVERY UNCLEAN SPIRIT, EVERY POWER OF DARKNESS, EVERY INCURSION OF THE INFERNAL ENEMY, EVERY DIABOLICAL LEGION, COHORT, AND FACTION, IN THE NAME AND POWER OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST!!! BE UPROOTED AND PUT TO FLIGHT FROM THE CHURCH OF GOD, FROM SOULS CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF GOD AND REDEEMED BY THE PRECIOUS BLOOD OF THE DIVINE LAMB!!!”
Pit fiends shrieked and shrunk as divine light bathed the infernal race track. Beelzebub thundered with impotent rage as my allies wished for his magic resistance to wear off. I chanted divine words as my allies pounded Beelzebub like there is no tomorrow. When he begun to beg, they poured a giant flask of holy water all over him. I am happy to say they refused his gifts, and threw him back into Hell, where he belongs.
We saved Tempest once more. But what is it about him that attracts Satan so much, I wondered? Perhaps I will be needed here once more... But for now, let's go for another batch of quail eggs.
Saturday Night Block: Conquering the Barbarian Altanis
38 characters, 23 players, 17 deaths, 5 hours, and one titan. Full session report here.
Photo by Alex.
Sunday game
Sunday Block I: Darkness Beneath Megadungeon
Troglodytes have been raiding the hobbit villages in the region, capturing many of them. Alas, all suffered a horrible fate as a trogsnack. A party of eleven gathered to stop it once and for all. They were, in order: Astrid Hunnisdottir, a dwarf hero; Aurus of Nolostas, a human vicar; Aynora the Jovial, a human vicar; Dora Tallhand, a hobbit hero; Eiduariniel, an elf hero theurgist; Fyluiniel, an elf hero theurgist; Ganny Farrow, a hobbit hero; Hora Ironpan, a hobbit hero; Medor, an elf hero theurgist; Noluis the Ogre, a human vicar; and Ramdan Phillova the Furtive, a human vicar.
Adventurers descended with a singular mission: exterminate the troglodytes and eliminate their king. Well aware of their horrible stench, most drenched rags into wine and then tied them around their face. Astrid soaked hers with holy water instead.
The large cave they entered reeked of death and troglodyte stench. Several wood and metal poles were planted all along the western wall, adorned with human, dwarf, hobbit, and elf skulls. There were also giant crabshell segments, half-rotten lizard maws, and various animal parts.
They took the south tunnel leading west, bypassed a pit rap, and then slain three trog in the guard outpost. The commotion attracted a giant iguana with not eyes. It slithered its tongue and charged towards the tastiest adventurer, notably Noluis. They disposed of it too. Searching its chamber revealed little of value, besides a filthy potion and fifty feet of hemp rope in one of the foul sacks.
Spreading out, the party explored several of the tunnels, indecisive where to go next. Eiduariniel used the opportunity to fire ball a large cave with a chasm in it. The cave thundered and, booming sound echoed throughout. Suddenly the floor began shaking, and everyone bravely fled into the blasted chamber.
There, at the bottom of the chasm, they spotted a shiny arm bracelet. Medor fetched it and put it on. The bracelet was in essence two rings—iron on the inside, gold on the outside. Iron ring fused to Medor's arms. He felt great.
South of the blasted chamber was cave with a pyramid made of skulls. It burst as a mounted troglodyte knight charged on a giant iguana. Hora and Dora braced their spears at the opposite side of the chasm. Giant iguana leaped over, and landed right atop their spears, dying on the spot. The knight was sent flying, dying as well. Eiduariniel blasted the skull cave, eliminating a dozen or so trogs charging.
A pack of angry, armoured badgers, attacked from the west tunnel, tearing into adventurers. Ramdan cast speak with animals and tried to reason, but the badgers were super grumpy. Most of the time they just went “badger badger badger badger” whilst badgering Noluis. Cleric took the pounding, was force fed potions, nearly got sick from that, but the badgers were eventually driven back via violence and magic.
As expected, there was little left in those caves after the fire ball treatment. The cave furthest south was most interesting. Smoky white quartz dominated, in essence making it a crystalline cavern. Astrid kicked over a bowl of crystal filled with rank water. In the future the cave could be mined, but at the moment there was little value in it.
Fyluiniel used her wand to detect enemies. There was still work to do!
Party went deeper into the caves, exploring many tunnels. Some lead to an underground lake, some to a sun-bathed cave, some deeper yet, and some, most interestingly, into a large cave with a sinkhole guarded by two giant iguanas chained to the wall.
They stuffed belladonna into rations and offered them to the lizards, which gulped them without much thought. They were soon no more. Adventurers ties ropes on the iron rings, and rappelled down.
More tunnels, more troglodytes, albeit of sneaky nature. Three assassins attempted to jump the adventurers, but were massacred in no time.
Terrible cacophony of a primitive single string document and guttural high-pitched screaming echoed. Peeking around the corner adventurers had a sight to behold.
A large cavern with a forty feet wide and twenty feet long chasm, surrounded by a tribe of troglodytes in supplication. Adventurers were on the south side; on this side of the chasm were deformed lizardmen with painted scales and dressed in tattered robes. Opposite was an orchestra of seven trogs playing something. And from the chasm something bubbled, like a rising bread.
Eiduariniel started blasting fire balls left and right. Medor created an illusion of purple worm bursting through the chasm. Total pandemonium ensued, with numerous trogs perishing in flames. Some of the survivors threw themselves into the chasm, others burned screaming. Troglodyte knights lost control of their giant iguana mounts.
Adventurers stood victorious, amidst charred remains of their enemies.
The ground quaked as colossal Gibbering Fungus God grew out of the chasm. Imagine thirty feet long and twenty feet wide mushroom stalk that reach fifty feet upwards. Eiduariniel continued blasting, sizzling the stalk.
“Come child. Come. Let me feed you. Feast upon my flesh.”
The elf was converted. He sprinted to the edge of the chasm, took a leap of faith, and landed upon the massive stalk. He begun stuffing his mouth with delicious, delicious fungi.
Others spread out in the chamber, scrambling to save their friend. Alas, they too felt the call of the Fungus God. Astrid cut across the chamber, following a long tunnel leading east. Aurus followed. Noluis grabbed one of the crazed fungi-eaters into a headlock, saving them. Aynora hooked Eiduariniel and pulled him back.
The elf wept like a baby once he was out of the warm embrace of the Gibbering Fungus God. Having suffered a lot of damage, the stalk quivered and quaked. It begun to descend into the chasm. Fyluiniel rushed forth and jumped, landing quite deep. She began stuffing her mouth full. Dora chugged the potion of giant strength, crawled along the stalk on all fours, grabbed the elf and threw her over her shoulder like she was a little child, and then quickly climbed up before the God disappeared into the chasm.
Some were traumatised; like being birthed into cold, uncaring world. No more kind warmth of the fungus. Regardless, the party reconvened just before a cavern filled with decorative stones. They could see a four armed troglodyte frolicking on a throne made of bone and sinew.
It is difficult to put in words how much they overkilled him. From phantasmal forces conjuring flying helicopters dropping napalm to hitting him with absolutely everything available to adventures. The king and his retinue were eradicated in less time that it took them to reach it.
They plundered his lair and left for good, to celebrate their great victory.
Little did they know that the Cult of Gibbering Fungus God remained intact...
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Photo by James Knight.
Photo by James Knight.
Photo by Alex.
Photo by Alex.
