Conquering the Barbarian Altanis: Session 48


Character Class Description
Tamren Cleric level 3 Stoic paladin of Coriptis, the Goddess of Battle and Inamorata of Berserkers. Aventail hides all but his two piercing blue eyes.
Orion Thief level 3 Very chaotic and very desperate for money. His bright red pony-tail is so long he could sweep the floor with it.
Orda Fighter level 3 Very lawful and very goodly Karakan warrior from far east with bushy red mane and beard.
Fra Nevjest Cleric level 1 A rather clumsy devotee of Kodeus, the gnarly God of Dexterity and Patron Deity of Thieves.


Character Class Description
Brent Goose Cleric level 3 An eccentric, but charismatic, cleric seeking the Holy Bird. White robes and black cloak conceal his tall, frail and anemic frame. His eagle-like nose is exposed for all to see.

Sunstrong 9th, Fireday

The party spent two weeks resting at Dontrap, a hamlet sitting by the fork of the great River Fairhills, fed by a stream from the Midnight Goddess Hills.

This once prosperous settlement was sacked more then once, especially after failing to pay protection money to Hara, a stronghold city ruled by Alyrian merchants. Many of the locals were either sold into slavery or forced into indentured servitude.

Only the stubborn and stoic remained. The young started going missing over the last few months... This is where Orda, Fra Nevjest and Orion stepped in and offered their help to Fitzedward, the local veteran.

The trio joined Fitzedward and his two brothers on the expedition to the ruins of the Elder Temple. They found it desecrated and violated. Despite failing to purge it, the party had rescued Fitzedward's sister and her husband.

That came at the cost of Doud, one of the brothers, and Orion's testicle. The latter is the reason the party spent so long at Dontrap before venturing back to the cursed temple.

Rhall, an old, one armed, one eyed priest did his best to tend to Orion's wounds, but alas failed. The thief was still alive. Having learned his lesson, he invested in extremely tight, butt-accentuating, leather pants and high heel boots.

“Nothing shall crawl up my pantaloons no more!”

Orda spent his time at Dontrap nursing the Drunk Smith back to life.

“Good tidings worker of steel, my condolences on the loss of your family. I have been venturing to purge the evil that took your family. I ask your blessing to reap vengeance on those vile beings of chaos.”

“See, I bring relics of law against the enemy. Hark. Hear how the blade sings.” He swings the blade several times, then hands it over for the Smith to inspect.

Then he knelled and offered up his old blade, named Wazukana, wrapped in linen.

“This was made for me on my twelfth birthday. The steel workers of my land fold the blade many times and hone it over many moons. They call it jewel steel. I gift it to you, in hopes it inspires you to Smith again. Your blades will be needed in the coming war.”

The warrior from the far east was lucky to encounter Smith sober. The man studied both blade with great interest, offering his comments on their provenance. Although the Phoenix blade was indeed special, the man paid more attention Wazukana since this was the first time he had seen a blade from far east.

“Yes the eastern blade is a marvel, men spend their whole lives trying to master its creation, and many others do the same attempting to master its application. Hang it above your forge for inspiration.”

Then Orda asked if he could stay with Smith whilst living in Dontrap. As payment he will labour on him and help get his forge back into working order.

“Once I gain some coin I hope to commission you to make axes and shovels, so that we can build some walls for this village.”

“Thank you. You can sleep wherever you like.”

Fra Nevjest spent his days helping out Rhall with his garden. The priest was overjoyed to meet a Lawful cleric in good health. He was twice overjoyed upon hearing that Fra and his party are planning to consecrate the Elder Temple.

At the end of two week rest an unexpected newcomer arrived in Dontrap: warrior dressed from top to toe in metal armour. Aventail covered his face. The man was caked in grime, dried blood, and rust.

Villagers gasped at the sight of his bright red sword—a symbol that this man was Chosen by Coriptis, the Goddess of Battle and Inamorata of Berserkers!

Paladins of Battle roam the Wilderlands, ever seeking Chaos to purge further. He must've been drawn by the desecrated Elder Temple.

Man in question was Tamren, and he joined the trio on their new expedition to the fallen temple. Fitzedward joined them, as promised. Hobart, his youngest brother joined as well, at the encouragement of the party.

“We need a torchboy! Come on, he will be safe in the rear. We promise!”

And so the party set out.

Mid-way up the Midnight Goddess Hills a giant eagle dive-bombed the party, surprising them. It took out a chunk of Tamren before landing on Fra Nevjest with all its weight. Then it picked him up and flew away.

Orion managed to stab the bird while it was still on the ground. It towered all of them and easily slapped everyone with its wings.

Unwilling to let the bird devour their friend, the party released a volley of arrows, each hitting a soft spot. The eagle screeched, released Fra Nevjest, and continued flying.

The cleric fell down several hundred feet and splattered all over the rocks. This unexpected turn of events surprised the party.


Orion tensed his longbow, steadied his hand, and squinted.

Then he released an arrow.

And the eagle fell too.

There was very little left of the cleric, such was the impact. Orda recovered fragments of his skull. Orion made sure to pick up the brooch gifted to them by the Guardian Spirit of the Elder Temple.

It was caked in blood and gore. The thief nicely pinned it to Tamren, the now sole cleric of the party.

“Here, looks perfect.”

Finally, they sought the corpse of giant eagle.

“Does it have any treasure?”


“I want to chop it up for food.”

“I want its head as a trophy.”

“Let's drag it back to Dontrap and do all of that there!”

Alas, trouble breeds trouble.

Eight red-skinned men intercepted them at the foot of the hills.

Each was dressed in a leather jerkin and a loincloth. Their bulging muscles were obvious from afar. They were armed with spears, swords, and axes. And they were as quiet as Tamren.

“These must be the Altanian barbarians...”

“We should try to parley.”

“You know what. I have a better idea! Let's use the bird to flip the bird at them!”

Stare down did not last long.

Altanians unleashed a series of ear-piercing war cries and charged the party.

Adventurers released a volley, killing two barbarians. In return they received a salvo of spears and hand axes.


The barbarians were incredibly fast. And even worse for the adventurers, they fought both smart and ferociously. Four of them charged the front line. The other two ran around and flanked them.

One speared Orion straight through his face. The other overpowered Hobart and hacked him to death right in front of Fitzedward. The veteran was driven mad by grief.

Tamren and Orda called on their respective gods as they fought off these ferocious foes. They too fought smart, with their backs pressed against the giant eagle's corpse.

Their skill, and heavy armour, protected them long enough to allow them to slay their opposition. Paladin killed three, while Karakan killed four.

The sun had risen just a few hours ago, and yet the party was reduced to nothing more but two warriors covered in blood and one broken veteran.

At least they were standing on the corpses of their enemies?

“We shall give Hobart a warrior's burial. Let's head back...”

Sunstrong 19th, Fireday

Much to Orda's and Tamren's surprise, Rhall divulged that he had hidden a Raise Dead scroll for time of great need. And since he believed that Fra Nevjest was sent by the God to restore the Elder Temple, he insisted on bringing him back!

Hobart was brought back in the process as well. He was promptly slapped by Fitzedward. He promised not to undertake anymore adventuring. “It is not for me.”

Apparently dying and coming back is extremely draining on the body, mind, and spirit. It took Fra Nevjest two weeks of bed rest before he was even able to don his armour.

During these two weeks the party was joined by Brent Goose, a cleric of small birds. He was most interested in Fra Nevjest's account of a wondrous painting he found in the catacombs under the Elder Temple. It depicted a huge bird wit “Aelbos” written underneath. That was reason enough for Brent to join the party.

Revived and rejuvenated, the merry bend set out on the expedition.

No eagles nor red-skinned barbarians interrupted them this time.

“Let's go back to the catacombs to report to the Guardian Spirit.”

Alas! The spirit did not materialise where they found it last time. In fact, all the intact sarcophagi were now broken. Their inhabitants were smashed to pieces and thrown around the chamber.


Orda engaged in some sorrowful Mongolian throat singing.

The party revisited all the burial chambers. Each was repeat of the previous case—smashed coffins and broken skeletons.

“Where are the stone cats?”

They found one, shattered and covered in blood, in one of the large burial chambers. The other was in front of small chamber with elaborate stone chest. The same chamber Orion nicked a jewel from.

Fra Nevjest tapped the cat, presented the brooch given to him by the Guardian Spirit, and then passed by it.

The chamber was empty sans the large stone chest. It was five feet long, two feet tall and two feet deep. It had three lids, all hinged. The one to the left had an engraved picture of a deer, the one in the center had an engraved picture of a sun, and the one to the right had an engraved picture of a sword.

Fra lifted the middle one. The opening was much deeper than expected. Two sacks were on the bottom. He gingerly inspected both. One of the sacks had a weapon akin to a mace and a number of coins. The other sack had a sphere, roughly one foot in diameter, that was hard on touch.

The cleric took out the mace. Then he proceeded to open the leftmost and rightmost lids. Their respective chambers were empty. The middle chamber was now empty as well.

“Thank you Guardian Spirit.”

He rejoined the party and they went deeper into the dungeon.

First they revisited all the previously explored chambers, just to make sure they don't get ambushed from behind.

Then they continued down the ten feet wide corridor. A Y-shaped junction was up ahead. But before it was a narrow corridor breaking off to the right.

“You watch guard here while I investigate this egress.”

Tamren went in first, followed by Fra Nevjest.

This corridor was indeed narrow, barely two feet wide. Straight they went, then right at the junction, and then right again, into pitch black chamber. Tamren's fighter instincts kicked in, and he blocked a creature lunging at him just as Fra brought the light.

They were flanked by two disgusting humanoids. Both had pale-pinky flesh covered in warts, boils, and sores; their faces a travesty of humanity; their hands deformed claws.


Orda and Brent Goose abandoned their guard position and ran towards Fra Nevjest's painful scream.

They entered the chamber just in time to witness one of the creatures gouging out Fra Nevjest's left eye with its deformed thumb. Fra pushed back the monster back, but not before it finished what it started. The creature immediately slurped the soft delicacy.

Orda stepped in, but a gentleman he is, allowed Fra Nevjest to have the killing blow. Tamren hacked the other creature.

Fra Nevjest stumbled around, trying to process what has just happened. Somehow the the clumsy cleric became even clumsier.

One of the adventurers knelt by the monstrous corpses, shining a light upon them. He wondered in disgust:

“What are these creatures?”

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