Attronarch's Athenaeum

Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Alaric	Human	Paladin level 3	Big, doe eyed country boy with wavy blond hair and willingness to do the right thing. Paladin of Tyr.
Ambros	Human	Cleric level 7	Follower of Aniu, Lord of Time.
Beorg the Gravedigger	Human	Fighter level 5	Inspired to adventure after burying several adventurers.
Ignaeus	Elf	Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5	A slightly weathered looking elf with dull blonde hair and chiseled features. Seeks wealth and knowledge.
Jacob Vin	Human	Assassin level 3	Slick black hair, inconspicuous dress, youthful for his age, and of keen instincts.
Kenso San	Human	Fighter level 4	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Tam o' Shanter	Human	Cleric level 4	A boisterous wine-lover of Losborst on a Great Crusade of the Grape.
Tarkus the Promising	Human	Cleric level 5	Follower of Bachontoi, God of Red Wisdom.
Thorinda Bung	Human	Monk level 3	She has blonde hair done up in a tight pony tail and wears light, loose suit.
Thorm	Dwarf	Fighter level 4 / thief level 5	Ashen hair, beard, and eyes. Left his own clan due to financial trouble.
Warmund Abendeurer	Human	Fighter level 1	A burly blonde barbarian; Wilbalt's older brother and the stronger of the two.
Wilbalt Abendeurer	Human	Fighter level 1	A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Coldrain 2nd, Waterday

“Begone, Evil!” Ambros thundered.

Wight that sucked Agathon dry turned to dust, carried away by the underground stream.

“Chop him up, quick!”

Kenso cut off Agathon's head. Ignaeus loped off the leg.

The corpse contorted and jerked, throwing itself at Kenso.

The boy, even in death, strived to best his master.

Kenso slashed accross the torso, and then drove the dragonblade into the heart. Corpse formerly known as Agathon ceased to move.

Adventurers completed the dismemberment. Then they chucked the body parts into the stream, casting them into the watery oblivion.

“So, uh... who will swim accross to fetch that bag of coins?”

“Screw it! I'll do it!”

Tam volunteered. He stripped off his armour. He elected to keep chemberpot on his head. Adventurers tied a rope around his waist, not neck, and he jumped into the chilly stream.

He was promptly speared and cut by three troglodytes that happened to be diving there at that time. One of the foul reptiles hurt him good; spears were wickedly barbed and did more damage while coming out than when coming in.

As Tam screamed and cried in pain trogs went limp and were carried away by the stream. Ignaeus had put them to sleep. As well as Alaric. They dragged Tam out, who in turn jumped at the elf, gave him a big hug and a sloppy, sloppy kiss. Ignaeus regretted his decision to save the man.

Freshly awoken Alaric volunteered to go instead of half-dead Tam. Young and strong, he too took off his armour. How else could he swim across? As before, a rope was tied around his waist. And as before, he jumped into the stream. This time it was not swimming reptiles.

No, it was a gang of skeletons approaching the party from behind. Little did they know how divine divine Ambros is. They were turned to dust.

Alaric succesfully retrieved a sack with five hundred gold pieces.

The party decided to exit the dungeon and rest before continuing. It was well past midnight by the time they were out.

Coldrain 3rd, Earthday

“Hail and well met!”

Around noon the party was joined by Tarkus the Promising, Beorg the Gravedigger, Jacob Vin, Thorinda Bung, Warmund and Wilbalt Abendeurer. Now counting twelve adventurers in total, they were confident about hitting the deepest level of Castle Yukanthur.

Or so they thought.

Whilst passing through the first level, five giant ticks fell from above. Although the adventurers were not surprised, the ticks were right in their midst.

With their thick carapaces, giant ticks had proven to be more of a nuissance than a real threat to adventurers. Still, several of them got bitten, sucked, and potentially, diseased. It remains to be seen. Warmund and Jacob suffered the most, nearly dying in the process.

Alaric killed two, Kenso cut one in half, Tarkus smashed one, and Tam used his jug to crush the final one.

Moving on, they ran into six pig-faced orcs. Neither side was surprised. Beorg unleashed hell upon them, skewering four in total. Ignaeus and Kenso barely managed to kill one each.

From then on they moved forth unopposed. Once on the second level, they went into the fireblasted chamber, courtesy of Ignaeus, then south, then north in the domed chamber with fire, got perplexed and frustrated once more, went out north, then east into the hydrchamber, then north, left, and then right down the long stairs.

It is worth noting that there was an ongoing conversation if they should use stairs or one of the pit traps leading down. Stairs, as might be obvious by now, had won the popular vote.

Deeper level, at last.

Twelve of adventurers, carrying three torches and one lantern, stood little chance of surprising anyone or anything. Let alone a wall.

A t-junction split left and right. To the left was a large rectangular chamber with grimy, stained, and spent flagstones. The right was a fifty foot long corridor terminating with a right turn. Midway were open doors, hanging to the side. Torchlight flickered from beyond. Silent weeping and sobbing could be heard.

Feeling heroic, adventurers rushed towards it.

The doors were hanging by the hinges. Wood appeared to be damaged as if by some strong acid. The chamber beyond was rectangular. In the middle of it stood a man dressed in robes and a pointy hat. He held torch in on hand, and waved the other towards north-east corner. His face was red and puffy, tears streaming down.

In the corner was a half-dissolved man dressed in bubbly leather armour. He was engulfed by transparent and shimmering liquid. Magic-user spoke some words and a spear of light flew from his hands and into the mass.

Ignaeus recognised the spell as a varian of Magic Missile. He joined in, and cast teh same spell at the ooze. Beorg cast his own spell, “military oil,” vapourising the ooze as well as the man engulfed.

Then he took a deep whiff and grunted “I love the smell of military oil in the morning. It is the smell of victory.”

Ambros approached the man while others spread out to investigate the chamber. It was forty-five by thirty feet, with exit to the south and west. Besides one dissolved corpse in the north-east corner, there was another by west doors. This one was dressed in half-corroded plate mail, holding onto a heavy mace. Next to it was an intact gold chalice.

“You can help yourself to it, after all you have saved my life.” the man generously offered. He introduced himself as Diocletian Farseer, a man capable of seeing far. “We have been delving for hours. I said we should go back, but no, they were “oh come one, just one more doors, just one more.” And then we ran into this ooze which just wrecked my dear friends. Horrible. Horrible.”

He agreed to join the party for a part of his share. There is safety in numbers.

As adventurers discussed, the bottom of west doors begane to sizzle and bubble.

“Oh, no—” Diocletian screamed “—not again!”

Thorinda, Kenso, and Beorg dispatched of the ooze before it became a threat. They were apparently much more capable then two men Diocletian had adventured with.

“Let's move on.”

Pushing through west doors led to the aforementioned rectangular chamber with grime caked flagstones, albeit from the north side.

There were five exits from this chamber: corridors to the north, east, and south, mined tunnel to the west, and a tunneled crawlsspace to the south-west. On the south wall was etched drawing of a circle with a squiggly line.

Adventurers entered reluctantly. Thorm, being a dwarf, elected to study the west tunnel. It was most definitely hewn. Narrow, but wide enough for a single file. It obviously, well, obviously to a dwarf, at least, slopped downwards. Entrance to it was flanked by numerous bone fragments.

Crawlspace in the south-west corner was barely wide enough for one person to crawl through. It was not particulalry high, and one would need to go all the way on their belly.

“Hey, look at that...”

Alaric shone his bullseye lantern down the south corridor.

Two red gems shone in the dark, just beyond his range. Moving forward revealed the horror—a baleful dead with bright-red gaze.

Alaric the Brave charged forth, only to be checked by two more undead waiting in the darkness. Kenso, Thorm, and Beorg backed the paladin, following him into the fray.

Ambros turned the furthest undead, since that was the only one whom had witnessed his holy symbol. Thorm destroyed one with a series of blows. Kenso felt the chilly touch of one. He felt weaker, as if drained. Luckily for him, the undead broke of its grip in the overwhelming presences of Ambros and Tarkus.

Alaric, Wilbalt, Thorm, Ambros, Kenso, Tarkus, and Ignaeus stood in what looked to be an anthechamber of sorts. There were doors to the west, “VERMIN” scribbled over them. That is where the undead whom had drained Kenso fled. There was archway leading south. That's where the first undead had fled to.

Diocletian, Jacob, Thorinda, Beorg were just behind, in the corridor connecting this chamber and the rectangular chamber with five exits. Tam and Warmund were in that chamber, keeping watch.

They were not twelve anymore. They were thirteen now.

Will that be enough to survive the depths of Castle Yukanthur?

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

#Wilderlands #SessionReport

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