Attronarch's Athenaeum

Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Ainsley	Human	Ranger level 1	An older gentleman with a groomed moustache and a wooden pipe in his mouth, covered in dark green cloak.
Aurella	Elf	Fighter level 1 / magic-user level 1	Exiled and chased out of her tree commune, she now wanders the Wilderlands.
Balarus	Human	Fighter level 4	An ex-woodsman, quite a crack shot with his bow.
Gurdin the Bald	Dwarf	Fighter level 1	Dressed in simple, dusty clothes, with a hairless head so shiny it gets in the way of adventure. Loaded with gear and hopes of great treasure.
Ivor	Human	Cleric level 1	A young, soft-spoken worshipper of Umannah with thick black beard.
Tam o' Shanter	Human	Cleric level 4	A boisterous wine-lover of Losborst on a Great Crusade of the Grape.
Thorinda Bung	Human	Monk level 4	She has blonde hair done up in a tight pony tail and wears light, loose suit.

Flowerbloom

“My child, you party hard and are a true legate of joy. But it is now time to return and proselytize once more. Behold the grape!” a pudgy, roly-poly giant spoke to Tam in jovial tone.

“Listen carefully, for this is not in drunken stupor I tell you! Cross three streams and walk uphill until you see a tower of many faces!” the giant spoke in hushed tone, with a breath that could peel the paint off the marbled walls.

“Go there; but do not seek the crown, for it will be your downfall! Go there and you will find a grape so fine it would be an insult to me, to me personally!, if you were not to take care of that grape!” Losborst, the God of Wine, rolled dramatically, bemused with his own words.

“Go! Go fetch that grape and carry it between your butt cheeks, and may it never be squished or else we will never meet again!!! Go!!!”

Tam o' Shanter woke from his stupor, all curled up and soiled. He was in the cellar of the adventurers' newly built town-house. It has been a month since he descended into alcohol-induced coma. A month of partying and communing with his favourite god, Losborst.

With great effort he crawled to the door of the log house, his bloodshot eyes filled with mania, words croaking from his dry mouth.

“The grape, I must find the grape...”

Afoot, but unsteady, he staggered through Ironburg and into the Hog's Head Inn.

Flowerbloom 14th, Fireday

“Come on, let's go looking for a grape! THE grape! It is just north-west from here, probably somewhere around the Skillholm Stream!”

Partially washed Tam successfully assembled an adventuring party: Ainsley the Ranger, Balarus the Hero, Gurdin the Dwarf, Thorinda the Monk, and Aurella the Elf.

They set out with the first rays of sun, following the River Farhills upstream. This mighty river flows from the very peaks of he Castelian Mountains. It spans nearly 1500 yards at its widest.

Ainsley found a way to ford one of the tributary streams, saving the party a good amount of time.

Flowerbloom 15th, Spiritday

By mid-day, the adventurers reached Skillholm Stream. Or at least where it joins the mighty river. They spent rest of the day hiking uphill, with Ainsley once again being pivotal for finding streams and overpasses.

During the evening Tam felt tingles in his bum. His hairs stretched out and pointed south west.

Flowerbloom 16th, Airday

Balarus had the pre-dawn watch duty. As sun rose he gazed south west.

There it was, a league or so away.

There it was, at the foot of the mountain.

There it was, a spire three hundred feet tool, adorned with six gigantic stone faces.

A fanged devil at the bottom, mouth agape, with long red path leading inside.

A joyful face with stupendous smile to the left.

A taut face with severed nose and extended tongue to the left.

Above them two more.

Left, a drooling one.

Right, a grinning monstrosity with stone Mohawk.

And on the top a stoic face gazing into the distance, crowned with stone spikes.

Tam's bum shivered.

This was the place they were looking for.

Ainsley did it again, and found yet another ford, saving the party several watches, if not days, of going around.

Then they spent a watch planning the approach to the spire.

They decided to spend a full watch circling and observing the spire.

Crimson stairs were of material unknown to Gurdin. It was no rock nor mineral he was familiar with. The faces were stone, as much as he could tell from safe distance.

The area was bereft of life. No animals. No plants.

Sporadically a dozen or so flying creature would either come out, or come into, the open, drooling mouth.

Ainsley could not recognise them. They looked like bird, but moved like insects.

As night fell, the party found a safe spot a mile away from the spire. They set-up cold camp.

Flowerbloom 17th, Waterday

“NOOOOOOOOOO! PLEASE! NOOOO–”

Gurdin and Thorinda gripped their weapons.

Horrific, desperate screams woke everyone up.

It was midnight.

“AGH– NO! NO! I BEG–”

Screaming and pleading echoed, interrupted with painful gasps.

Adventurers huddled up, formed a circle, back-to-back, and waited.

Hopeless pleading continued. Until it was no more.

Adventurers waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And then went back to sleep.

They woke up, moderately well rested.

Tam's bum was still quivering.

Adventurers picked up their stuff and approached the spire.

Now, up close, Gurdin was confident that stairs were no rock.

They were crimson, slimy, and slightly bent upwards at the edges. The stairs looked much like a tongue. There was flesh blood on them. Teeth as well.

“A sign of what is to come!” Thorinda quipped.

The stairs zig-zagged up the hill; an eighty foot ascent.

Gurdin drove four iron spikes at the foot of the stairs; they bled and shivered as he did so.

“Tie a rope around me, I go first!” Tam said.

Indeed, he did go first.

“It's all good!” he waved half way up. Soon a single file line formed, and the party ascended together.

Tam and Balaraus were first to reach the mouth open wide. Razor sharp stone teeth were all around.

Beyond was a large circular chamber, illuminated by sunlight coming through the open mouth.

Three framed iron slabs were visible to north, east, and west. Each had a symbol of a single musical note on it.

A cushion sat atop a pedestal in the centre of the chamber. Something was on it.

Adventurers continue to enter, one by one. Aurella and Gurdin were at the back.

They felt stairs beneath them move and squirm.

Elf jumped forward without delay. She landed on her hands, and rolled straight into the chamber.

Dwarf was both slower and further away.

He too jumped.

Alas, he landed straight between the stone teeth closing with great force.

Aurella turned around to grab him, but all she got was blood over her face.

Vile face chomped and masticated on Gurdin. Adventurers backed off, worried they too might get sucked in.

Whatever remained of Gurdin between the teeth was soon cleaned by the long tongue.

The mouth remained shut, leaving the adventurers in darkness.

“Oh, hi there.”

Ivor, a young acolyte of Umannah, happened to have entered this chamber earlier that day. After brief introductions he decided it was in his best interest to join this enterprising party.

A lantern and torch were lit.

Two things became obvious.

First, there were dried rivulets of blood leading from the mouth to north stone slab.

Second, a wooden flute was resting on the cushion. Caked with dried blood.

Tam picked it up. Then he wiped it under his armpit.

He strolled around the chamber, and then stopped close to the west stone slab. He brought the flute to his lips with a courage of a man who has consumed things others wound never fathom to even consider ingestible. As he blew on it he felt burning sensation. Tiny barbed hooks tore into his flesh and tongue. His mouth swelled and filled with warm crimson liquid.

Stone slab closest to him rose up, revealing a twenty foot long corridor terminating with spiral staircase leading up.

Adventurers poured in, ignoring Tam's bloody face. One of the adventurers took the flute and put it in his backpack.

The stairs, as well as the walls, were caked with dried blood, gore, and small bits of flesh and bone chips. The party went up, single file.

“Stop. Look!”

Atop the stairs were single doors, smattered with blood and gore from top to bottom. Gilded “TREASURE ROOM” was nailed to them.

“Now, this is an obvious trap!”

Adventurers carefully proceed up, and then gave the doors a wide berth.

“But what if they are not lying? Could we tie a rope to the handle a check them out? What do you think?”

“No.”

Most of the adventurers focused on large iron-reinforced oak doors at the end of the corridor. It took them some time, but they managed to force them open.

A rectangular room, mostly clean, and with no visible gore, was before them. Corridor led further ahead, and then turned left. Once everyone entered, the doors shut behind them and a large, brass face formed over the seal.

The face yawned, opened its eyes, and then looked at the party. It said nothing. If anything, it looked slightly confused.

Conversing with it yielded no useful intelligence.

“Look at yourself. You are all covered in blood!” Ainsley berated the brass face, frustrated.

“Wh–what?! Blood?! On me?! Where? WHERE??? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

The face begun bellowing and crying in anguish.

“Shhh–”

“Incoming!”

Balarus warned the party in time. He was standing in the corridor, watching ahead.

Five hulking creatures advanced towards him. They were nearly six feet tall, green as virgin spring grass, with bulging, knotted muscles. They were completely headless; instead of nipples they had eyeballs, and their mouth were where the solar plexus is.

“Form up!”

“Hack them!”

Aurella and Ainsley fired a volley down the corridor. No hits.

Balarus and Tam closed into melee, with Thorinda in the second rank.

The monsters were easy to hit. But they barely reacted to any pain inflicted upon them. Even worse, they hit hard in return.

Ainsley switched from bow to bastard sword and then waited for an opportunity to join the fray. Aurella kept shooting into melee; luckily she never hit any of her friends.

Balarus did tremendous damage to the brutes. It was Thorinda who made the first kill. She drove he glaive straight through one nipple-eye, turned it sideways, and then slashed across the chest-mouth, and out of the other nipple-eye.

Ivor was eager to fight too, but there was no room in the corridor for him. So he went back to the crying brass face and attempted to console it.

“Calm down. Here. Better?”

“Oh. Ooooh. Nobody ever touched me like that... Ohhh...”

“Hey, don't get any weird ideas!”

Caressing the brass face at least stopped it crying.

“Take that, sugar tits!” Balarus yelled as he cleaved one of the green brutes in half, straight between its nipple-eyes.

Tam was forced to retreat, having received a beating of lifetime. Ainsley jumped in to fill the gap. He promptly slayed one of the creatures, while Balarus obliterated the other.

“Will you open for us?” Ivor asked the brass face.

“Noooo.” it answered.

Aurella downed the final creature. She fired into melee once more. Two arrows, both down the gaping chest-mouth. The creature slumped to its knees, dead.

“I think I have led us all to our deaths.” Tam said somberly. “Am not sure what will kill us first, the freaky tower and its denizens or Aurella firing into combat.”

“Don't be so pessimistic, we won our first fight.” Ainsley retorted stoically. “Yeah, one of us did get gnawed to death by giant stone teeth, but it could've been way worse.”

How much worse?

We will find out soon.

Meme by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

#Wilderlands #SessionReport

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