Attronarch's Athenaeum

SessionReport

Adventurers

Character Race Class Description
Alaric Human Paladin level 4 Big, doe eyed country boy with wavy blond hair and willingness to do the right thing. Paladin of Tyr.
Aurella Elf Fighter level 1 / magic-user level 1 Exiled and chased out of her tree commune, she now wanders the Wilderlands.
Ignaeus Elf Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Jacob Vin Human Assassin level 4 Slick black hair, inconspicuous dress, youthful for his age, and of keen instincts.
Kenso San Human Fighter level 2 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Petrus Human Paladin level 1 Follower of Surya, God of the Sun and Ruler of the Planets, sporting a large sun motif on his shield.
Wilbalt Abendeurer Human Fighter level 2 A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Thawmist 16th, Airday

Alaric led a party of seven to a tumuls two leagues north-west from Ironburg. He led them there after baron Sig informed him that scouts have spotted goblins digging out skeletal remains. “Alaric, get rid of the denizens. You can keep whatever you find. But you must bring me a list of everything you find.”

Having had enough of the accursed ruin known as Castle Yukanthur, adventurers gathered up and jumped at the opportunity to kick some goblin ass. They were joined by two newcomers—Aurella the Elf, and Petrus the Paladin—and set out for the tumulus with the first ray of sun.

Adventurers opted to take the longer route, following the hilly terrain instead. This, they reasoned, would give them a vantage point. They arrived around noon. Their assumption was accurate, and they spotted the tumulus nearly a thousand yards away.

It was a rectangular affair, roughly three hundred feet wide, three hundred feet long, and between thirty and fifty feet tall. Dugouts were noticeable on the southern side. A singular, albeit large, tree adorned the top. It stood proud on the south-west side.

The party spent an hour circling the barrow. This preventive scouting paid of handsomely for they spotted a large vaulted entrance into the burial mound, as well as its guarding. A large, obese beast, munching on something, sat by the entrance.

“An ogre.” more experienced adventurers muttered.

“Leave it to me.” Aurella offered.

She got down on all fours and prowled towards the foul beast. She went from bush to bush. From tree trunk to tree trunk. And when she got in position, some one hundred and forty yards away, she gingerly got up to kneeling position, and took out her longbow.

The ogre waved at her. It was munching on what appeared to be a humanoid leg. Aurella stood up and fired at the beast, twice. She hit he dirt behind it, twice.

The monster laughed and ran forward.

Aurella shoot again, twice. Her first arrow nicked the beast, making it laugh even harder. Second arrow flew into void.

But Aurella was not alone.

Alaric and Kenso ran forth, checking the ogre's progress. Wilbalt, Petrus, and Jacob were right behind.

Ogre smacked Alaric with its gnarly, half-eaten leg. The paladin recoiled from blunt force trauma, but stood still. Wilbalt used the opportunity to drive glaive straight into the beast's neck. It gurgled blood, and then toppled over.

It wore nothing but loincloth. It also had a large sack tied to a rope. Inspecting it revealed disgusting snacks—one human left arm, one elves right arm, one kneecap, and one half-chewed hobbit head.

Wilbalt took an interest into the last one. He picked out the head and fingered it. Lo and behold, a golden ring was stuck in what little remained of its gullet. While he did that, others advanced toward the tumulus.

Kenso and Jacob climbed it, and investigated the tree. Alaric and Ignaeus flanked the large vaulted entrance, twenty feet wide, and thirty feet tall at the apex. Stone doors laid smashed on the ground in front of them. Aurella and Petrus continued forth, inside.

Light shone all the way in, down the sixty feet wide corridor, and into a square chamber forty feet long and wide. Doors were straight ahead. The duo moved forth, laser-focused on them.

They heard a whistle the their right.

They turned just in time to receive three javelins to the face.

Aurella went down.

Petrus dodged and blocked.

Three filthy goblins giggled behind portcullis.

Petrus jumped to the side, flattening himself against the east wall.

Ignaeus and Wilbalt ran in, and killed all three goblins in seconds, extinguishing their mocking voices forever. Little fools remained too close to the iron grates. Two fled into the darkness beyond.

Adventurers dragged Aurella outside. She survived hear ordeal, but was properly banged up. Still, she offered to carry the torch and be useful however she can.

Kenso and Jacob informed the party that there is a hole beneath the tree, leading down, alongside its roots. It is deep and dark, so they did not see where exactly it leads.

“Let's go in!”

And so they went in. Jacob shone a light down the portcullis. A rectangular chamber, thirty feet wide and forty feet long, with an arched exit to the south-east.

North doors were locked.

Jacob stepped forth. He picked the lock like a Master Thief.

“SNAP!”

“Uh-oh.”

Within seconds Jacob, Petrus, and Kenso were doused in thick and sticky military oil.

“TZUNK! TZUNK!”

Two small quartz-stones hit against each other.

They failed to produce a spark.

And luckily, neither of the three held a torch.

“Look at them, the Greasy Boys!”

“Oh, open the doors already!”

“They are stuck.”

With a little bit of muscle and grease, the adventures forced their way into a rather disgusting chamber. It measured forty by thirty feet, and was filled with sacks of various sizes, covered with writhing maggots and buzzing flies, and sitting in pools of coagulated blood. Half a dozen of barrels contained frothing brown liquid, a rancid mix of piss and ale. Since Tam was not present, the quality of ale remains undetermined.

But west wall is what preoccupied Ignaeus and Aurella the most. A carved relief of a skeleton warrior laid in a coffin dominated the central portion.

“Aha!”

Upon a closer inspection, Ignaeus observed that the eyes are recessed. He promptly poked both of the sockets. Left eye depressed, and the relief slid to the side, revealing a thirty foot long corridor. Seven more, identical reliefs adorned the corridor.

The elf moved in, while others observed from the filthy chamber. He systematically checked each relief. Only two had the same style of recessed eyeballs—both at the end of the corridor.

He pressed the south one.

It rotated south.

Dank air assailed his nostrils. Before him was a tunnel, but not hewn stone nor natural cave. It was packed soil reinforced with wooden beams. Puddle of stagnant water were visible here and there. Water seeped through the sides.

Ignaeus and Alaric took the lead. Several alcoves were visible. Approaching the first revealed its inhabitant: a skeleton dressed in ancient leather armour and horned helmet, holding a rusty blade. Wilbalt spotted a large bronze band around its left biceps. “Would it fit me?” he thought. The skeleton's head turned towards Ignaeus. It did not move.

The elf made a few more steps forth. The head followed. Body did not move. Similar skeleton, with similar behaviour, was in the next alcove as well.

“let's go back. I don't like this. Could collapse on us anytime.”

Adventurers fell back into the corridor. Secret doors they came through had close. There was no skeletal relief on their side.

“Uh-oh.” somebody uttered.

Ignoring that, Ignaeus pressed the eyes of the northern relief.

It swung open, revealing a hewn corridor leading forth. Jacob's lantern shone the full length of it, revealing it opens up into a chamber.

Stepping in, all felt frigid cold. Their breaths became visible.

Ignaeus marched first.

Jacob and Alaric behind him.

Aurella and Kenso in step.

Petrus at the rear.

Wilbalt behind him. Daydreaming about bicep bands.

Alaric felt a presence of great evil. He knew that he cannot leave this place until he cleanses it. Nay, he was compelled to do so.

Ignaeus came to the archway.

Onyx black slab, nine inches tall, and ten feet wide and long, dominated the chamber.

Upon it a pale human laid, of taut skin and wild, white mane. Dried flowers and broken twigs adorned its flowing hair. Hundreds of copper pieces were strewn over the creatures chests, genitalia, and thighs. At its waist, on a girdle, an impeccable looking broadsword with a wolf-head pommel rested.

Pale figure raised its head, an gazed at Ignaeus with otherworldly malice.

Ignaeus quadrupled himself.

Secret doors shut behind them.

“Oh no, now we are entombed for real!” somebody eeked out.

“I think if the thing would want to attack us, it would've done already.” Wilbalt whispered “Maybe we can get out of a situation with talking for once?”

He could not believe the words he had just said...

Aurella's account by After.

Meme by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

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rootring
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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.
Drokh Human Monk level 3 A tall, lean human monk with piercing eyes, weathered skin, and a warrior’s poise—calm and charismatic, he speaks with purpose and strikes with precision, wielding spear, bow, and blade.
Heinrik Human Magic-user level 2 Muscular mage with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
Ignaeus Elf Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Jacob Vin Human Assassin level 3 Slick black hair, inconspicuous dress, youthful for his age, and of keen instincts.
Julius Human Ranger level 1 A short king covered in bushy hair and green moss.
Kenso San Human Fighter level 2 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Kho Rimbo Human Magic-user level 3 A knife throwing wizard extraordinaire. Covered in ritual knife scars. Cuts himself whilst casting. Prone to being sarcastic.
Minako Konishi Human Monk level 3 Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
Syd Grundy Human Fighter level 3 Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness.
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 3 She has blonde hair done up in a tight pony tail and wears light, loose suit.
Thorm Dwarf Dighter level 2 / thief level 3 Ashen hair, beard, and eyes. Left his own clan due to financial trouble.
Tosk Human Fighter level 1 Extremely large muscular man with pot belly; cagey about his intentions and past; seeking fortune.
Warmund Abendeurer Human Fighter level 2 A burly blonde barbarian; Wilbalt's older brother and the stronger of the two.
Wilbalt Abendeurer Human Fighter level 2 A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Gloomfrost 20th, Spiritday

It was noon. Last day of the last month of the year. Entire population of Ironburg, a mining thorp sitting at the northern border of Kingdom of Hara, crowded in the newly built longhouse.

Baron of Ironburg, a large, muscle-bound man called Sig of Dostrogoths, sat in his wooden throne. He was sullen and of ill mood. His muscles were tense. Next to him sat people he trusted most: Rupert Ironwill, a bishop of Tyr; Bertha of Dostrogoths, Sig's shadow; Vimaro, a vicar of Mitra; and his two trusted seers, Lamprecht and Daltz. Red Wizard Crus was given a special seat.

Across the baron, at the end of a long table, stood Ambros. He stood there, for he was brought here to hear his sentencing. He had submitted himself to fate; whatever it might bring. He had time to prepare. He had time to meditate. He had time to pray.

Ironwill stood up, and cleared his throat. Masses went quiet.

“We have gathered today, on this fine day, to share three proclamations from the Benevolent Wizard-King Klekess Racoba! First, we shall deal with the man standing before us, Ambros ap Mortain. By his own admission, Ambros is guilty of treason against the King, and the people!”

Ironwill went on and on. Ambros listened in silence. He and others had a moment to catch-up with Heinrik, whom had returned from Hara around midnight. “From what I understood, Ambros will get to live. Something will happen, but he will live. That is what Crus told me. Sig is unhappy about something, but I do not know what.”

“Ambros, by great mercy of our Wizard-King Klekess Racoba, you are exiled from the Kingdom of Hara! Anyone can kill you, facing no consequences! In fact, they would do our Kingdom a great favour!” Ironwill spoke loudly, each word uttered with great conviction and passion.

“Paladin of Tyr!” Ironwill turned to Alaric “It is only fitting you deliver justice!” A bowl of thick, black liquid was brought forth. Alaric was given a sharpened tusk. “Tattoo a mark of traitor upon the forehead of that animal over there.”

Alaric took both and went over to Ambros. “Forgive me.” he whispered, as he penetrated the skin of former High Priest of Forseti again, and again, and again. Blood and ink flew down the cleric's forehead, down his face, down his neck, and onto his chest.

“Men! Women! Children! Behold this animal before us! Yes, animal! Debased and rightsless, no better than a rabid dog!”

Loud coughs interrupted Ironwill. It was Old Crus.

“Oh, yes. Animal known as Ambros is now a slave to the Red Wizard Crus.”

Ambros spoke up “Ahem. How can I be both exiled and enslaved to Crus? I mean, Crus lives right here, in Ironburg?”

“Silence, cur!” Ironwill muttered “Chase him out! Chase him out like a rabid dog he is!” and to that the crowd booed Ambros, and threw stones, and hit him with clubs and sticks. Ambros attempted to maintain composure, and some semblance of dignity. Alas, his attempts failed them, but the scribe could not bear to write down the details.

Adventurers were mixed in with the crowd. Nearly twenty of them, ready to cause hell, and die for their friend should such fate befall them. But they stood in the silence of crowd cheering and chanting at the bloody spectacle.

Rupert continued speaking. There were two more proclamations for the king. Iron ore production must double by the summer. Barony was granted a coat of arms. Kho Rimbo slurred something along the lines of “ghhhlyy” while slobbering saliva and blood over himself. He too was treated no better than Ambros, having been sentenced to brank's bridle.

As evening came, Sig stood up and announced that a week-long Year's End celebration shall begin. This was welcomed with uproarious approval from all those present. Wilbalt and Warmund went hard on drinks, food, and games; Tosk kept up; Julius opted to focus on the food and games; Thorm, Ignaeus, Minako, tracked Ambros down and then hung out with him; Alaric orbited Sig to get to know the man better; Thorinda mopped a bit but then got down to party; Jacob spent time writing notes on specific cruelties of the region; Tam got pissed big; Kho hid in a hole and wept.

Meme by Jan.

Thawmist 1st, Airday

Ambros learned the price of his life from Old Crus.

“I have no use of you as a slave. This was merely need to humiliate you further. You are free, I don't care for you being here. For my services I want just one thing. Yukanthur's spell book.”

Ambros communed with his god Aniu, the Lord of Time.

He prepared three questions.

He received five answers.

That is between him and his god.

Thawmist 2nd, Airday

A party of seven—Wilbalt, Tosk, Julius, Alaric, Ignaeus, Jacob Vim, and Tam—returned to the ruins of Castle Yukanthur. They did not return to seek what Ambros needed. No, they came back for the secret chamber full of stone jars filled with delightful treasure and deadly gas.

It took them a full day, but they managed to extract everything that was worth it: two thousand silver pieces, one thousand gold pieces, a jar filled to the top with spiced honey, a jar—jealously guarded by Tam—filled to the top with red wine, three vials filled with pus-like substance, and three golden necklaces adorned with gems.

Adventurers returned, with no losses, to Ironburg by noon of Thawmist 3rd, Earthday.

Meme by Jan.

Thawmist 8th, Earthday

Immediately after returning, Tam began organising a huge house warming party. After all, adventurers' humble townhouse had just been built. Roughly three thousand square feet of home! Some were suspicious—will people be interested in more festivities after the biggest festival of the year?

“Leave it to the vicar of Losborst!”

Everyone was invited. And everyone showed up! Well, nearly everyone. Old Crus refused but sent a little gift via Heinrik “A single drop of this will make you drunk within seconds. No headache, no hangover. But only a single drop!” Ambros remained hiding in Crus's tower, much to the wizard's annoyance. Ignaeus kept him company. Kho Rimbo was hiding somewhere in the bushes around Ironburg.

The party was a total toss up. Everyone had amazing time. Heinrik took a drop of Crus's drink, by mixing it into his wine. Within moments he felt like he was cruising on people. Tam, seeing that, drank the whole vial, just like that. Losborst himself materialised next to him, and they continued to party like gods do. Alas, to others, Tam crumpled to the ground, soiling his finest toga.

Tosk and Thorm once more focused on mingling with Sig. That paid off as the dwarf began working on a potential deal with the baron.

Nobody died.

Adventures began dreaming of all the supplies they could procure from New Hara. They assembled a wishlist. Their bellies were full, house warm, and coffers full.

But the question remains—will their new home burn down to the ground as well? Or they have learned something from their past deeds that will allow them to create a different future for themselves?

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

#Wilderlands #SessionReport

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rootring
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This report covers an expedition to New Hara by Heinrik. Events described happened in parallel with sessions 184 and 185. Report written by Jan, Heinrik's player, with minor edits by myself.

Adventurers

Character Race Class Description
Heinrik Human Magic-User level 2 Muscular mage with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

Gloomfrost

After his conversation with Ambros, Old Crus spent nine days in deep thought, during which the old man was barely approachable. Heinrik was already familiar with this behaviour of his. He then instructed Heinrik to fetch Ambros and explained to him, in his long-winded, slow manner, that the only way he could survive without fighting was if he appeared pathetic, lame and mendicant to Racoba. The old man instructed Ambros to hand over his regalia – his ceremonial armour and weapons – to Heinrik, and told Heinrik to fetch Sig and pack up Ambros’s belongings.

Heinrik did as he was told. He fetched Sig and afterwards went to Ambros to fetch the box containing his gavel of justice, signet ring and chain of office.

That night, Sig returned from the magician’s tower and immediately had his men prepare a boat and stow the box containing Ambros’s possessions on board. Meanwhile, Heinrik brought Old Crus down from his tower to the docks.

The old man had dressed elaborately in wizard’s robes and handed Heinrik three identical scrolls. He explained to him: ‘One is cursed and will explode upon reading. One will make you, and everyone within 10 feet, invisible.’ And the last one should only be read if you return here without me.’ Heinrik asked him which scroll was which, endured the old man’s outburst that followed the question—which he attributed to the old man’s great agitation at the imminent departure from his tower—and marked the non-exploding scrolls with dog-ears. He then tucked his daggers and throwing darts into his belt, and grabbed his staff.

Getting the old man onto his horse was more exhausting and involved greater hardships than many a battle Heinrik had fought. Even the sight of the cannibals’ horrific shrunken heads in the Ghinarian Hills did not shock Heinrik as much as the sight of the old sorcerer’s withered manhood. Heinrik wondered whether the study of magic brought about such deformities and whether it might not be safer, after all, to follow the path of a warrior. At least the magician’s leathery sack was neither particularly large nor heavy.

On arriving at the landing, Heinrik, with similar physical and emotional strain, unloaded the old man from the horse onto the boat, where Crus immediately fell asleep like a baby while Heinrik began rowing alongside Sig.

They set off at midnight.

During the journey, Sig suggested to Heinrik that he join him to help with his plans for Ironburg. Heinrik was not averse to this suggestion, provided he could remain the old wizard’s apprentice. Heinrik had by now grown fond of the stubborn old man, with all his rough edges, and sensed that beneath the hard shell lay a good heart.

The next day, they passed through Hara. Sig said to Heinrik, “Behold, Heinrik, the work of your good and trusted friend Ambros. This is all his doing. The fires, the flooding. Now it is nothing but a blighted ruin, inhabited by the desperate and despicable.”

Heinrik replied, “I respect you, Sig. You’ve always been fair to me, and that’s why I believe you really believe what you’re saying and aren't just trying to mock me, but you’ve been misled. You’re an experienced warrior yourself and know how things go after an invasion. The new ruler does everything he can to drag the previous ruler through the mud, and no one who wants to stay alive will contradict the new ruler. All I can say is that my experience of Ambros has been different. He has always selflessly stood up for the people. You could see that with your own eyes in Ironburg, when Ambros helped those miners all those months without ever expecting anything in return, and it was no different in Hara.”

As night fell, after an uneventful journey, they finally arrived in New Hara, which was currently a vast building site. Banners depicting a green creature with yellow tusks hung from wooden towers. They landed at a makeshift dock.

Heinrik woke the old wizard, who had slept through the entire journey.

Sig introduced himself to the guards at the docks as Sig of Dostrogoths, Baron of Ironburg.

Heinrik could not remember the last time he had seen so much life as was present here. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people were gathered here. Red-skinned Altanians in chains were driven to work by taskmasters wielding whips. Guards armed with leather armour, shields, clubs and spears in the king’s colours patrolled the docks.

There were only a few completed buildings; most of the inhabitants of New Hara still seemed to be living in makeshift tents, which formed vast tent towns on the outskirts of the settlement.

Sig told the wizard that they would not be granted an audience with the king at that time and instead escorted him to the Circled Star Inn, which, according to Sig, was currently the finest establishment in the city, whilst Heinrik kept watch over the boat’s cargo. A few shady characters cast glances at Heinrik and the cargo, but held back.

After a while, Sig returned, covered in blood, with porters to carry the load. He explained to Heinrik, “Some people mistook us for easy targets.” He then took Heinrik to the Circled Star Inn as well – a large L-shaped inn with a spacious ground floor, a roomy second floor and a cellar that was off-limits to patrons.

The old wizard had a room of his own, whilst Heinrik remained in the communal area, where he finally fell asleep with one hand on the pommel of his dagger.

The next day, Heinrik woke early to the noise in the communal area and had breakfast with Sig, who generously invited him. Heinrik used the opportunity to ask Sig about his connection to Racoba.

“We heard of great unrest in Hara and thought to ourselves, ‘Hey, we could be of help.’ And so we arrived, seemingly in time to help the king drive the enemies away and establish a kingdom of Law. Initially we fought barbarians around Ahyf, then in the valley, and then around Midway. The king then offered me the title of Baron of Ironburg if I were to march there, pacify the region, capture the traitor Ambros, and re-establish the flow of iron. And here we are now.”

When the old mage was still asleep late in the morning, Heinrik went to wake him, but was shooed away by the mage and told to come back the next day.

Heinrik spent the day mapping New Hara. To avoid attracting attention, he walked through the streets, trying to commit as many details as possible to memory, so that he could then record them on a map that evening from memory, without many onlookers.

While mapping, Heinrik bumped into a lanky and otherwise unremarkable man called Penniman Darwood, that complimented Heinrik and recognized him as a scholar. “I would be happy to be of service. Do not hesitate to pop round to my tent. I am sure we could help each other.”

On his return to the Circled Star Inn late that night, Sig and Crus informed Heinrik that the king had granted them an audience two days from now.

The next day, Heinrik did not wake until midday and then continued his mapping of the city. He also visited Penniman’s tent that was located in an area full of shady characters.

Penniman's tent actually was a cluster of adjoining tents, filled with various goods for trade, most of which is either junk or mundane stuff. Penniman greeted Heinrik cheerfully. “You are a wise man. The goods on display are not for you. What you need, I can get. And what you need to get rid of, I can help with as well.” He winks.

Heinrik told Penniman that he does not require his services right now but might in the future.

The following day, Sig and Crus set off for the King’s Tower early in the morning, whilst Henrik continued his mapping work.

During the day, Heinrik accidentally stepped on a passed out drunk, which riled him back to life, assaulting Heinrik. Heinrik thought to himself “If this guy showed the same tenacity he is showing in harassing me in other areas of his life, he probably wouldn’t be lying drunk in an alley.” This attention was really the last thing Heinrik needed. The man made a few attempts to hit and kick Heinrik, but Heinrik managed to dodge the uncoordinated blows and keep his distance. The man chased Heinrik through the streets and alleys, all the while hurling insults at him at the top of his voice. A few times, Heinrik thought he’d finally shaken off the scruffy man, before the man's foul smell hit his nose again and, shortly afterwards, the verbal abuse and attacks resumed. After this game of cat and mouse had gone on like this for an hour, Heinrik turned into a dark alley and hid behind a few barrels full of rubbish. Shortly afterwards, the man appeared too and shouted, “Where are you, you son of a bitch, I’ll kill you!”, whilst spinning round, disoriented, searching for Heinrik. Heinrik emerged from behind the man, wrapped his muscular arm around his neck from behind and said through clenched teeth, “Not if I beat you to it.” Heinrik checked for possible witnesses, disposed of the man’s lifeless body in one of the barrels and carried on with his work.

That evening, whilst exploring, Heinrik discovered a scroll wedged between two rocks. The tightly rolled parchment contained a series of letters:

xrlcykjsx+lklwcmblqbdsmtecfnzfsustabawlmoblfrdqnxsltajeprhgrlpqgiuhufemkjpedjkkbewrruxdtifbbvikvdzrfkhxfjvcobigddkrlqkbqcxknfkfmpbssgcvbtjbvtkqtxjtimliaumntsmwnlblimvzpdtekwistsqbsqheezaljngeevob

When Heinrik returned to the tavern, Old Crus was already asleep, but Sig was still sitting in the inn’s communal area, already quite drunk and unusually quarrelsome. One word led to another, and shortly afterwards a fierce argument broke out between him and several other guests, which quickly escalated into a full-blown brawl, during which large parts of the communal area were trashed.

“This is really not my day” Heinrik thought to himself as he tried to carry on with his mapping work, whilst at the same time fending off the drunken, rowdy louts staggering and flailing about. After several of his attempts at mapping had been torn up or doused with wine by angry guests, he gave up in exasperation and threw himself into the thick of the fray.

The next day, Heinrik woke up bruised and sore. At breakfast, Sig slapped Heinrik on the back with a laugh and complimented his right hook, whilst old Crus complained that he’d had a restless night’s sleep because of the brawl.

Then old Crus urged Sig to hurry up, whereupon the two of them set off once more for the King’s Tower.

Meanwhile, Heinrik spent another day mapping New Hara.

At midday, he was followed by two pushy beggars: “A learned man like yourself surely has some coin!” “Come on, we know you have coin!” “Coin, give some coin...” Heinrik replied, “I only have one gold coin, but I’ll gladly share it with you,” whilst taking a single gold coin out of one of his pockets to toss it between the two.

On his return to the tavern, Crus informed Heinrik that the Ambros affair had now been resolved: “As with all wizardly matters, to no one’s delight. But your friend will live. Oh, and by the way, I wouldn’t advise annoying Sig too much these days.”

Heinrik expressed his sincere and heartfelt thanks to Old Crus for his help and asked him what had put Sig in such a bad mood.

Old Crus said cryptically that Sig was now learning what it meant to serve. “A lesson that proud warlords often find difficult to grasp”.

He then instructed Heinrik to run a few errands for him the following day.

At breakfast the following day, Sig was not in such a joking mood as usual; rather, he was serious and moody. He informed Henrik and Crus that they would set off the next day at first light.

Henrik spent most of the day running errands for the old man and a smaller part of it mapping.

That evening while mapping a particular shady part of the settlement, Heinrik had the feeling someone was following him. Three men approached him menacingly, but stopped when a familiar voice rang out. “Heinrik! Are you lost? Come, walk with me. This is no place for such a fine scholar. Heinrik, I hear you’ve been doing a lot of shopping today! I must admit, it hurts that I was unable to provide even a single item to your satisfaction. I will endeavour to do better next time… if you give me a chance?” It was Penniman. Heinrik walked with Penniman, telling him that he would be returning to Ironburg soon but would certainly come back, and then they would meet again! Heinrik began to realise that this man must wield some, or perhaps a great deal, of power in the underworld of this settlement – something that might come in handy at some point in the future.

The next day, Heinrik was woken far too early for his liking, before sunrise, by a smack on the head, followed by old Crus’s croaking voice, “Wake up! It’s time to go!”

Old Crus and Heinrik set off for the harbour, where they met Sig and some hired helpers he’d brought along, who were in the process of loading the boat.

The return journey to Ironburg was uneventful. This time, the old man stayed awake for the entire trip and spent the whole journey complaining in his slow manner, much to the displeasure of the helpers, who exchanged annoyed glances but realised they’d be better off not getting on the wrong side of the old wizard.

Sig, meanwhile, seemed distracted and lost in thought as he rubbed an emerald hanging on a chain around his neck.

They reached Ironburg at midnight. Sig immediately summoned his men for a meeting, leaving Heinrik and the old man alone on the pier.

“Heinrik, my boy. I am tremendously tired. Let's go home.” Crus, who had been surprisingly energetic all day, could now barely keep himself on his feet. It took Heinrik what felt like an eternity to hoist the old man onto the horse. Heinrik realised that, unfortunately, this task did not seem to be getting any easier with the practice he had at this point.

By the time he’d finally got the old man, who was now sleeping like a baby, into bed, there were only a few hours left until sunrise. Exhausted, Heinrik finally sank into his bedding and fell into a deep slumber.

Heinrik's map of New Hara by Jan.

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Adventurers

Character Race Class Description
Beorg the Gravedigger Human Fighter level 5 Inspired to adventure after burying several adventurers.
Ignaeus Elf Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Jacob Vin Human Assassin level 3 Slick black hair, inconspicuous dress, youthful for his age, and of keen instincts.
Minako Konishi Human Monk level 3 Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
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.
Tosk Human Fighter level 1 Extremely large muscular man with pot belly; cagey about his intentions and past; seeking fortune.
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 2 A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Gloomfrost 16th, Airday

Adventurers have returned to the ruins of Castle Yukanthur once more. This time they were on a very specific mission—retrieve the massive dwarven greataxe dropped into the underground river by Anoran Hail. The poor man was killed by a giant tick while he was climbing up the rope.

“Uh oh.”

The rope they left tied was gone. As was the thick branch they had wedged over the well. After some discomfort, they braved the old route. Into the ruined keep and down the spiral staircase.

Party of nine moved with brisk pace. They encountered five pig faced orcs and twenty pygmy kobolds. Adventurers took out their frustration on them, butchering them with great ease.

And so they continued their romp through the dungeon, until they reached the gnome statue room. As soon as they opened the doors they got hit by two bolts!

This was a surprise, since so far the statue only shot one bolt, and only in the back of those opening the doors from inside. But the statue was now different—it held a crossbow in each hand. It still had a wide shit eating grin.

Having had enough of this malarkey, they tied a rope around its head, and pulled hard. The rope frayed, but made it, and the stone, conical hat flew off.

There was blood underneath the hat! A living, bleeding, pulsing brain protruded out of the statue's de-hatted head. Tears rolled down the stone gnome's cheeks. Wilbalt stuck his bastard sword into the brain, deep, deep down. Then he swirled it around, making the insides all bloody and mushy.

The party moved on, and were now struck by the second statue they usually ignored. The one by the long stairs leading down. The one that menacingly held a flail above its head, and released a loud THUD sound whenever it passed, but nothing ever happened. Well, this time did, and few adventurers had a bruised head.

Moving on, they reached the cavernous portion without any opposition. Thorinda spent an hour fishing the greataxe. On their way back to the surface they used their newfound rope trick to rip off the arm from the flail statue.

Since it was already night, they found a safe space to camp, and spent the night there.

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Gloomfrost 17th, Waterday

Adventurers reached Ironburg by noon.

Beorg felt the entrepreneurial jolt, and decided to establish a graveyard plot, much to the joy of Vimaro, the vicar of Mitra.

Tosk tried to strike a deal with Agathon the Cruel, the man running a local smithy. Kenso once made a deal with the man—in exchange for a sword, he would take his youngest son, Agathon the Promising, as his student and teach him the Warrior's Path. Kenso got the kid killed. In fact, Kenso got the kid drained of life, turned into a wight, and then dismembered him himself.

Tosk tried to make amends, but Agathon was interested in much talk. “You can fill his spot. Pay is one copper piece per day.” the man grunted and spat. The work was hard and exhausting, but Tosk is a big and strong man. He soon realised that Agathon and his sons are the embodiment of work hard, drink hard.

Gloomfrost 18th, Earthday

“I will leave now, for I am joining my friends on another expedition to Castle Yukanthur.” Tosk informed Agathon.

Agathon spat and threw him a copper piece “You can fuck off and don't bother returning. We have no need for slackers.”

Nine adventurers reached the ruins by noon. This time they decided to explore the area where long time ago an adventurer named Sieghart had his genitals dissolved by some sort of caustic ooze. He was put on fire by his friends, as they tried to save him. He died a horrible, painful death, and was left behind by his allies.

And so they returned to that area. There were two adjoining chambers. One had four decomposed porcs strewn about. Coins and dice were lying haphazardly on a small table in the room.

“They must've gotten into an argument...”

The other chamber, slightly larger one, contained two dozen cots, and a dozen rotting strawmats.

“Must've been their barracks...”

Curtain hid another chamber, which had little of interested except coin filled chest. Muscle brothers seized it.

Then adventurers deliberated at length. They were afraid to go into the the chamber from which Sieghart had unleashed his doom. They were so, so afraid. They could not fathom going there. They could not fathom facing such risk. They wanted to settle for this little chest, with little coins, for their big party of nine populated with men and elves and dwarves of skill and craft. But some divine voice nudged them, again and again, to dare, to dream bigger, to claim their power!

And they went in! They did! They dared!

And they checked all the walls for secret doors! They did! They dared!

And they found secret doors! And they dared to open them! And they found a chamber with twelve stone jars! All were sealed, and most clanged with coin!

Minako, Beorg, and Ignaeus were the bravest of the lot, for they went up close and begun inspecting the jars. They were tall and heavy, and all were sealed with stone stopper and wax.

And the trio each choose an jar to open. Minako opened hers and unleashed poison gas, killing Beorg. But she lived, and she recovered an awesome looking mace from the jar.

Then they picked up bloated Beorg, closed the secret chamber, and left for Ironburg.

“We will return and take all of that when in good health!”

Ambros raised Beorg once more. This was gravedigger's fourth or fifth return. He was slowly becoming more and more alike his favourite clientele. A bonus in his opinion.

There was still no word of Sig, Old Crus, and Heinrik returning from Hara.

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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.
Drokh Human Monk level 2 A tall, lean human monk with piercing eyes, weathered skin, and a warrior’s poise—calm and charismatic, he speaks with purpose and strikes with precision, wielding spear, bow, and blade.
Heinrik Human Magic-user level 1 Muscular mage with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
Ignaeus Elf Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Jacob Vin Human Assassin level 3 Slick black hair, inconspicuous dress, youthful for his age, and of keen instincts.
Kenso San Human Fighter level 2 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Kho Rimbo Human Magic-user level 3 A knife throwing wizard extraordinaire. Covered in ritual knife scars. Cuts himself whilst casting. Prone to being sarcastic.
Minako Konishi Human Monk level 3 Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
Syd Grundy Human Fighter level 3 Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness.
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 Dighter level 2 / thief level 3 Ashen hair, beard, and eyes. Left his own clan due to financial trouble.
Tosk Human Fighter level 1 Extremely large muscular man with pot belly; cagey about his intentions and past; seeking fortune.
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 2 A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Gloomfrost 3rd to 15th

Last month of the year. Winter. A warm one, as it usually is the Barbarian Altanis. Ironburg was buzzing with activity. Sig, newly appointed baron by the Wizard-King Racoba, and his men were building many new houses. They've already built wooden palisades and three wooden towers.

Adventurers had something else on their mind—what should they do next? Their town house would soon be completed. But Ambros was Sig's captive, awaiting his trial. Delves into Castle Yukanthur got increasingly dangerous, with most recent expedition resulting with many badly wounded.

And so the adventurers discussed and argued for weeks. Ambros has had it with being High Priest of Forseti, with all the politicking and backstabbing and rigmaroles. Ignaeus was eager to adventure. Kenso, and Tam were all for smacking monsters. Kho Rimbo drooled. Muscle bros dreamt even bigger: hire mercenaries to smack even more monsters. Hire even more mercenaries and go smack Racoba!

Syd and Thorinda argued for finding new lairs and ruins to raid. Yukanthur has worn them thin. Little did they know what horrid future awaits them. Jacob wondered if he was naught but figment of Kho Rimbo's imagination. Beorg wished for visiting more graveyards. He missed playing with the undead. Tarkus was eager to bestow his awesome wisdom upon both dungeon delvers and pesky politicians.

Finally, Tosk found Racoba attractive. He refused to elaborate.

Adventurers agreed on two main objectives: rescue Ambros, and defeat Racoba. They were split on third objective: escape the kingdom of Hara.

Thus, Ambros went to visit Old Crus, the most powerful person he knew. Heinrik, whom was still serving the old Wizard, made the meeting possible.

“Oh wise Crus, I come to humbly request your help. I would end this war with Racoba, preferably with each of us going our separate ways. If that is not possible, I seek your intervention to bring this to a conclusion favorable to my party of adventurers, I will commit to what you require of me to achieve this, short of pursuing conflict with Racoba. Thank you for considering this.”

Old Crus listened. He sat, motionless, for so long, unblinking, just staring at Ambros. Heinrik, having now spent many months with Crus, has seen the ancient man do this whenever he sunk into deep thought..

Suddenly, Crus leaned back, as if surprised, and then looked at Ambros.

“I need to think about it. Heinrik will fetch you when I have an answer.”

Nine days later, Old Crus instructed Heinrik to bring Ambros over.

“You want to live, but do not want to fight. Racoba needs to revel in your utmost defeat. Then he maybe lets you live. Therefore you need to be pathetic, lame, and mendicant. Ambros, bring me your gavel, your signet ring; and everything else that communicates your old status. Strip yourself of regalia, of ceremonial armour and armaments; of any wealth. You have until end of the day.”

It took him an hour to communicate this to Ambros, a mixture of Crus speaking slowly and taking dramatic breaks.

Then he instructed Heinrik “Heinrik, fetch Sig. Bring him here. Then pack everything Ambros gives you into crates. Wait for me in Ironburg.”

Ambros reverently placed the Gavel of Justice and his signet ring, along with his chain of office into a box and gave it to Heinrik. He wore his plain clerical attire, as he has never been an ostentatious man. He bent his head in prayer to Aniu. He then thanked Forseti in his prayer for the times past but expressed his desire to return to his roots.

Around noon Sig accompanied Heinrik to Crus. He went alone despite protestations from Ironwill and supplications from Lamprecht and Daltz. Heinrik dropped him off and returned to Ironburg to pack items Ambros handed him over.

Sig returned to Ironburg after nightfall. He ordered his men to prepare a boat, a coaster, and to load up crates Heinrik had prepared. The he informed him that Crus demands his immediate help.

“We are going to Hara at midnight. Old Crus requires your assistance to pack and and travel to Ironburg. I offered to send some of my men but he refused and asked specifically for you. Take one of our horses and have the old man mount it, otherwise I fear his bones and muscles won't survive the trip.”

“Where have you been?” Old Crus croaked as Heinrik entered the tower “I have been waiting for all eternity for you! What are all these muscles for if you can't walk faster? Move, move...”

Crus was dressed in a silk crimson robe. Embroidered arcane symbols lined along the sleeves, connecting in a star shaped knot between the shoulder blades. From it three more lines run downwards, all the way to the bottom of the robe. There they join a line running the whole circumference of the garment. Symbols are golden and much firmer than silk; yet they bend and flow effortlessly.

A huge pointy hat, half of the man wearing it, adorned his head. The rim was extensive, throwing shade on him. He was leaning against his old, gnarly, staff.

“Come, come!” he waved at Heinrik impatiently “Come closer. The bag, grab it. And the scrolls on the table.” Indeed, three identical, rolled-up scrolls, rested on the table. All were parchment, tightly bound by silk cords.

“Listen carefully, now. These are all for emergencies. One is cursed, and will explode upon reading. One will make you, and everyone withing 10 feet invisible. And the last one should be only read if you return here without me.”

This was the fastest Heinrik had heard Old Crus speak since he met him. It was not like he was chattering at high speed—no, he was speaking like an average man would—but it was rather that Heinrik had heard him speak so slowly for so long that this stood out.

“Come on. Let's go. Oh the youth!”

“Uh, which scroll does what?” Heinrik inquired scratching his head.

Old Crus looked at him intensely. His thick uni-brow formed a very expressive W-shape. Then he shambled over to the table and unfurled the leftmost scroll, and read through it.

“Well, this one is not explosive, is it?!” he rolled it up and threw it at Heinrik.

Then he grabbed the scroll to the right, ripped the silk ribbon off, and threw it to the side.

The scroll begun to unroll without any force applied to it.

Crus looked to the side, rolled it back, and squeezed it tight. Then he tied it with greasy pieces of rope lying on the table.

“Here, this is the explosive one. Catch!” he threw that one at Heinrik too. “Any other questions??? Can we go now???”

“Of course.” Heinrik replied quietly.

Crus spent rest of the time bitching and complaining about leaving his tower for the first time in the last decade.

It took Heinrik a long time to get Crus on that horse. In the process he got exposed to the wizard's shriveled manhood more than once. But he managed to mount him, somehow. His leather sack was not particularly heavy nor large.

Once at Ironburg they easily located Sig by the coaster. He was surrounded by a group of people in a loud argument.

“Are you fucking stupid? I know you are not, but you are acting fucking stupid.” a slender woman was yelling at Sig.

“Come on Bertha, lay off of him.” Vimaro, the flamboyant vicar of Mitra, nearly as large as Sig, waved his hands around dramatically “You know that look. He has made up his mind.”

Heinrik was too far away to hear Sig's reply, but it caused Vimaro to giggle, Bertha to scowl even more, and Ironwill to exhale.

Then Sig burst out laughing “If this is an ambush, then the only question is whose neck will I snap first! Have no fear my friends! Look!” and he pointed at Heinrik and Crus “Here they come. Now, stop whining and wish us farewell.”

Sig was dressed in plain clothes.

“Heinrik, is it not? I heard you are strong, yes? That's good, because you and I will row to Hara. Get in!”

Getting Crus off the horse was as much work as getting him on. He miraculously survived that without any significant injury. Then he sat in the boat, exhausted.

“Wake me up when we–” and Crus fell asleep before finishing the sentence.

“Grab the oar and get to it.” Sig sat on one side of the bench, tapping the other side for Heinrik to join him.

Howla and Vannis were reflecting off the mighty river Farhills, illuminating their path. Within moments they left Ironburg behind, and were surrounded with nothing but sounds of wildlife echoing through the air.

“We have hours of rowing ahead. Why not tell me more about yourself, Heinrik?”

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Meme by Jan.

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Adventurers

Character Race Class Description
Anoran Hall Human Cleric level 2 A thin, wiry, and bald follower of Promehene, the God of Time. He doesn't know what drives him to adventure.
Ignaeus Elf Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Julius Human Ranger level 1 A short king covered in bushy hair and green moss.
Kenso San Human Fighter level 2 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Leticia Human Cleric level 1 Extremely righteous, borderline zealot, devout follower of Rasthri, Goddess of Strength in Revenge.
Minako Konishi Human Monk level 3 Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
Syd Grundy Human Fighter level 3 Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness.
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 3 She has blonde hair done up in a tight pony tail and wears light, loose suit.
Tosk Human Fighter level 1 Extremely large muscular man with pot belly; cagey about his intentions and past; seeking fortune.
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 2 A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Shadowrath 1st, Airday

A cacophony of voices fought with the sound of underground river flowing thru the stone. A party numbering sixteen discussed their way up the well—a string of two hundred and fifty feet of rope, hanging from a branch sitting atop a dilapidated circle of stones.

It held as they went down. Will it hold as they went up?

They discussed at length—the climbing order, how to get the dead up, how to get the wounded up, what to with three stragglers they picked up, so on and so forth.

Ignaeus, Tam o' Shanter, Thorm, Warmund, and Wilbalt noticed that one of the man looked almost the same as the wizard they had rescued from the ooze chamber.

Thorm pointed that out “Lad, you look almost exactly like another fella we helped down here some time back... What was his name... Diocletian? You gents related in any way perchance?”

The man looked slightly stumped, and his voiced changed pitch several times as he answered “Ahem... Yes, he is my cousin. We came looking for him because he went missing couple of weeks ago. You met him?”

“We met him down this same precise hellhole we find ourselves in right now... And we helped him get back to Ironburg.” Thorm explained.

“What a serendipitous encounter then! Are you heading there now? Can we come along?” the man retorted.

“Fine by me, if the others agree.” Thorm shrugged.

Thorinda and Syd were too busy planning the ascent, so they stayed out of this conversation.

“Sherendpitous indeed!” slurred Tam “and from our point of view obvioushly a tad shushpicious (Hic!). But worry not! I have a shimple sholution, a way we can all be friendsh!”

He lofted his jug and sloshed the contents around. “I am a Herald of Loshborsht (hic!), God of grapesh, Shaint of drunksh. Within (Hic!) thish jug ish shacred wine, like unto the very pish of the God himself. A heady vintage indeed (Hic!) Any who ship from the vesshel receive the blesshing of the drunk, reshilience, attractivenessh, Inshite (hic!), but also the drunksh inability to tell a convicing lie.” (hic!)

He fixed the newcomers with a hard stare, seeming more sober “So come! drink with me now, so we may all say naught but truths and dispel all suspicions.”

He swilled down a deep slug of wine from the jug. “I will not even try to deceive you as I am now an open book. I have been trying to incite my companions to kill you!”

He laughed.

“The truth feels good, now lads, drink from the jug and unlock your silver tongues and let us all be friends. (Hic!) Or pish off!”

“Sherendpitous indeed!” slurred one of the men in leather armour. “and from our point of view obvioushly a tad shushpicious (Hic!). But worry not! I have a shimple sholution, a way we can all be friendsh!”

He lifted his palm and a jug formed. He sloshed the contents around. “I am a Herald of Loshborsht (hic!), God of grapesh, Shaint of drunksh. Within (Hic!) thish jug ish shacred wine, like unto the very pish of the God himself. A heady vintage indeed (Hic!) Any who ship from the vesshel receive the blesshing of the drunk, reshilience, attractivenessh, Inshite (hic!), but also the drunksh inability to tell a convicing lie.” (hic!)

He fixated on Tam as his garb mutated into Tam's, chambepot and drunkard's tan included, with a hard stare “So come! drink with me now, so we may all say naught but truths and dispel all suspicions.”

He swilled down a deep slug of wine from the jug. “I will not even try to deceive you as I am now an open book. I have been trying to incite my companions to kill you!”

He laughed as his two friends mutated as well.

“The truth feels good, now lads, drink from the jug and unlock your silver tongues and let us all be friends. (Hic!) Or pish off!”

By the time he finished speaking there were two Tams, two Thorms, and two Ignaeuses.

And then a wild melee broke out.

Warmund cared not if he hit real or fake Tam; he swung with all his might and nearly cleaved one of them in half. Anoran smacked Ignaeus with flail, a real one unbeknownst to him, hurting him real good. Tam swung at Julius, knocking him down with a single blow of his jug.

Warmund kept beating on Tam; Thorm had slain Thorm; and Drokh thrust his spear through Tam's thick skull. Both Thorm and Thorm writhed as they died, mutating into foul creatures of the Umlaut.

Ignaeus duelled Ignaeus, with no one daring to interject. Minako reasoned that real Ignaeus will land first blow, and therefore it will be obvious which one was fake. Elf fought elf for quite some time, as others watched with bated breath.

Ignaeus swung his sword and lost footing. Ignaeus used the opportunity and smashed the pommel of his blade into the back of Ignaeus's head. Ignaeus stumbled forward to his knees. Ignaeus booted Ignaeus, leaving him dead on the ground.

Adventurers watched in silence.

Silent gasps formed.

Dead Ignaeus remained dead Ignaeus.

They all jumped the fake Ignaeus, beating down on him.

Warmund was his next, and last, victim.

Drokh put down fake Ignaeus.

Adventurers sighed a breath of relief after checking on the fallen—Julius, Ignaeus, and Warmund were still alive. Batter, half-dead, but alive.

Over the next four hours the survivors planned and executed their ascent. Few of the healthy ones swum in the river and added another fifty feet of rope to the bottom of existing rope. Then they tied a harness, which was to be used to tie the wounded and dead in order to pull them up.

Anoran, strong and healthy, took Thorinda's massive greataxe. He tied it to his back. His armour was doffed, for he was working in water quite a lot. He swam and began his ascent. Party below him fought off several skeletons that intruded upon them.

This was Anoran's first delve into the bowels of Castle Yukanthur. His muscles contracted and tensed as he pulled himself up, carrying the weight of greataxe on his back. It was dark above, with a little bit of moonlight shining through. The darkness filled his view. He felt something heavy falling on him. In split second he decided to reach out with one hand; attempting to grab onto the well wall.

His palm slipped; his arm snapped. Something heavy latched to him, penetrating his skin with something hard and sharp. Without even realising it, Anoran was now in a free fall. Water did little to cushion him. He felt coldness, and then nothing.

Anoran Hail died in the bowels of Castle Yukanthur, never learning what was it that drove him to adventure.

With little time to mourn, the party continued with their plan.

Tam, whom had tried to convince others that his drunkenness is nothing but an act to deceive the enemies, was betrayed by a drunkard's bladder. He was the last to ascend. But first he had to take a leak.

A sound of doors being forced open interrupted him. Something strong enough to push through three piled up corpses used to wedge the doors.

His manhood still dangling, and his chamber-pot still rattling, Tam jumped into the river and started climbing. Two ghouls appeared, ravenous and impelled by a sight of juicy ass. They ran after the cleric, jumped into the river, and began clambering after him.

“Begone! Begone foul creatures!” Tam shook, rivulets of yellow sprinkling all around.

Ghouls hissed and let go off the rope. They dove in the underground stream, as Tam shoot up. He would forever deny birthing skid marks on the rope.

It was night.

A pleasant, even slightly chilly night. Winters in Barbarian Altanis were still warm, especially compared the icy Valon. Party found a secluded hole to rest in. They hauled their assess to Ironburg with first rays of sun.

Gloomfrost 9, Fireday

Adventurers spent five weeks resting and recovering in Ironburg. Ambros, nominally a prisoner of Sig, but allowed to freely move about the thorp and surroundings, healed his friends and raised Kenso and Leticia from the dead. He kept aiding the miners, from whom he had learned that some new miners should arrive from Hara.

Tam spent time drinking and preaching, getting into rowdy mess at least thrice. Agathon the Wiry had to get involved each time. Somehow Rupert Ironwill now thinks even less of Tam, something he thought was impossible.

Wilbalt spent time doing push-ups. Nothing but push-ups. Push-ups in the morning, in the noon, in the afternoon, in the bed while sleeping, on the table while eating, so on and so forth.

Minako spent her time in deep meditation. She was not disturbed.

None passed on the opportunity to mock Kho Rimbo, whom had been sentenced to wear brank's bridle until next summer, roughly a period of six months. A crude iron cage was put on his head, with a thin iron bar inserted into his mouth. Underneath it was a single need. Every time he tried to speak he would prick his tongue. The contraption was crude, sharp around the edges, and heavy. Kho Rimbo drooled and his head hung to the side.

Rupert Ironwill initially wanted to gouge out his eyes, but was convinced otherwise by Alaric and Ambros, whom had both argued that Kho Rimbo is a good man, despite his shortcomings.

Others convinced Heinrik to speak to Old Crus. Muscular magic-user has now been serving him for most of the year. Their relationship began out of need—Old Crus might be ancient and slow, but he is a good teacher and has extensive library—but Heinrik remained even after he had learned new spells.

Heinrik had three questions on his mind:

  • Do you have an idea how our group can realistically resolve the situation with Racoba and save Ambros?
  • Do you have advice how to end Racoba?
  • Does Racoba have any vices?

By now he knew how to speak with Old Crus—a multitude of short, repetitive conversations over a span of several days. It was still unclear to him when was Crus obtuse, versus when was he forgetful. For the first two days he had to keep answering why does he want to help Ambros at all. Crus was confused at first, but then seemed to accept it was kind of quid pro quo, with Ambros saving Heinrik several times. Then he had to listen repeat descriptions of Racoba that Crus still remembers—a brilliant, but paranoid man. His paranoia had driven him to success, and his paranoia had driven him to madness. “Racoba, unlike me, does not forget. He holds a grudge. He is paranoid but patient. There are only two ways to help your friend. Either end him” and Crus winked on end “or end Racoba. There is no other way.”

Unsure what to make out of this, Heinrik reported back to his allies.

Ambros had now been in captivity for two months. Neither Sig nor Ironwill approached him to begin the trial. The two in fact seemed much busier with administrating their newly acquired barony: establishing patrols, building fortifications, and helping the locals. Ambros was treated well.

Many ideas were raised among the adventurers. Leave for new lands. But where? Set Ambros free. But when? Defeat Racoba. But how?

No decision had been made.

Racoba's uncaring shadow still loomed large over them.

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

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rootring
Prev · Random · Directory · Next

Adventurers

Character Race Class Description
Anoran Hall Human Cleric level 2 A thin, wiry, and bald follower of Promehene, the God of Time. He doesn't know what drives him to adventure.
Drokh Human Monk level 2 A tall, lean human monk with piercing eyes, weathered skin, and a warrior’s poise—calm and charismatic, he speaks with purpose and strikes with precision, wielding spear, bow, and blade.
Ignaeus Elf Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Julius Human Ranger level 1 A short king covered in bushy hair and green moss.
Kenso San Human Fighter level 2 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Leticia Human Cleric level 1 Extremely righteous, borderline zealot, devout follower of Rasthri, Goddess of Strength in Revenge.
Minako Konishi Human Monk level 3 Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
Syd Grundy Human Fighter level 3 Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness.
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 3 She has blonde hair done up in a tight pony tail and wears light, loose suit.
Thorm Dwarf Fighter level 2 / thief level 3 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 2 A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Shadowrath 1st, Airday

“Watch out!”

A hateful wight charged Kenso, flailing at him. Thorm punished the dead dearly by delivering a series of blows with his magical weapon. Foul creature seethed and screeched impotently as it attacked the dwarf.

“Huh?!”

Thorinda stood confused as a woman clade in plate tumbled into the soil heap in front of her. Leticia was her name, revenge her guide, and pit trap her deliverer.

“Begone! -hic- Begone!” Tam yelled, his divine utterances disrupted by slightly less divine burps.

The dead fled, leaving the party at peace.

With little time for pleasantries, the adventurers welcomed Leticia, and moved on. They went further west, entering a spacious chamber. An archway with a corridor beyond sat in each corner of the room. An alcove to far west led to barricaded doors.

North-east archway connected to corridors the party had passed through before. South-west archway led to darkness. North-west archway led to a t-junction splitting west and north. Adventurers went north to inspect yet another t-shaped junction. There they were jumped by two bipedal ratmen.

Much to adventurers' chagrin, they quickly learned their mundane weapons cannot cut through the skin of these foul creatures. Thorm, Thorinda, Wilbalt, Kenso and Ignaeus stepped forth.

Ratmen were shocked to feel pain and fled like rats they are. One the the left fled west, and one to the east fled east. Kenso caught, and executed, the former. The latter escaped.

The combat was far from over. West ratman opened doors to the chamber filled with giant rats. They were soon crawling all over the party. At the same time few of the adventurers pursued east. The doors swung open, and five large, hairy, tiger-faced beastmen faced the party.

Total chaos ensued.

Rat stomping.

Beastmen duels.

Yells of combat and desperation.

Leticia was the first to fall.

Kenso drew first blood, beheading one of the beastmen.

Syd followed, and split the skull of the second one.

He was promptly rewarded with morningstar to the face; falling in battle. Kenso was murdered in melee as well.

Tam crushed beastman that circled around and attempted to surprise them from behind.

Ignaeus and Drokh claimed a kill each.

As they checked the dead, Wilbalt heard a curious sound coming from a hole in the corridor.

Something akin to chattering and clacking of teeth.

He listened carefully.

The sounds continued.

Then nothing.

And then all Hell broke loose.

Chattering and squirming filled the chamber; echoing through corridors. A dark, hairy, voracious river of rats soon washed over the party. Adventurers flailed around madly; stomping, slashing, rolling.

Five giant rats climbed Wilbalt's muscular, knotted body. They used his physique like a ladder, clawing, biting, chewing.

Each bite carried shame and disease.

“Trade! Trade! Trade!” Wilbalt heard coming from the hole.

He dropped to the ground, bleeding; some rats still hanging from his massive biceps.

“Yes?”

A curled-up ratman looked at him, holding up a pouch.

“Trade.” it repeated in broken Common. “Kill man. You.”

“We pay you not to kill us?” Wilbalt looked behind. One quarter of the party was dead or downed. The rest were drowning in rats. Ignaeus was contemplating fireballing them all. “Yes, trade.”

“No!” ratman replied angrily. “No! You kill. Kill big man. Iron man. Shiny sword. You kill. We pay!”

“Oooh! Yes, yes, we will kill him!” Wilbalt replied, thinking to himself they'd kill that man for free anyway. Without even knowing who or what that man is.

Ratman produced a series of clicks and chitters and shrills. Giant rats jumped off the adventurers and moved to the sides, gazing upon them with ravenous focus.

Ratman then took out a red ruby out of his little pouch and handed it over to Wilbalt. “You kill. Then more. For you.”

Warrior took it from the ratman. “Yes. We kill. Then we come back. Where can we find this steel man?” Then his head spun as he listened to the instructions. From what he could gather this rathater could be found in the south-east portion of the dungeon.

At this moment, adventurers collected their dead and wounded and retreated back to the large room with multifold archways. They were trailed by a pack of rats.

“Hail and well met.” Julius the ranger introduced himself. Part hair, part moss, he was welcomed either way.

Unsure what to do, the party spent time discussing their course of action. Would rats understand if they decided to go up and leave the dungeon? What if they pushed on and were wrecked by this man?

Their deliberations went on and on; them seemingly oblivious to their surroundings. One of the giant rats tugged on Thorinda's loose pants. They held and did not come down.

Rat tugged few more times. It squeaked and motioned towards the west corridor beyond the north-west archway. Thorinda went to check.

There she saw an ogre tiptoeing towards her.

No one was surprised.

Thorinda was clubbed to sleep.

Thorm and Ignaeus slashed at the beast. Then Wilbalt ran up, slid down under, cutting the belly of the beast. It burst open, spilling guts and intestines all over the floor. Giant rats charged with fury, gorging on the carcass.

“Listen, we have to get out!”

Party of thirteen now counted two dead, two half-dead, and three wounded. They wobbled back to the large chamber, then through north-east archway, north, past doors, past corridor, past antechamber, and into chamber with weird wall drawing.

There they encountered three battered men, whom claimed encounter with giant rats. They all joined forced and went up the stairs. From there they headed west, north, west, north, into the natural cave with underground river.

Their rope still hung.

Two hundred and fifty feet of ascent.

With two dead.

Two barely alive.

Three stragglers.

And one ambition.

Get out alive.

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

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Adventurers

Character Race Class Description
Anoran Hall Human Cleric level 2 A thin, wiry, and bald follower of Promehene, the God of Time. He doesn't know what drives him to adventure.
Drokh Human Monk level 2 A tall, lean human monk with piercing eyes, weathered skin, and a warrior’s poise—calm and charismatic, he speaks with purpose and strikes with precision, wielding spear, bow, and blade.
Ignaeus Elf Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Kenso San Human Fighter level 2 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Minako Konishi Human Monk level 3 Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
Syd Grundy Human Fighter level 3 Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness.
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 3 She has blonde hair done up in a tight pony tail and wears light, loose suit.
Thorm Dwarf Fighter level 2 / thief level 3 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 2 A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Coldrain 10th, Spiritday

“YU!!!”

“KAN!!!”

“THUR!!!”

The monster roared as Thorinda, Syd, Drokh, Thorm, Ignaeus, Minako, Kenso, Tam, Wilbalt fled into the woods surrounding the ruins of castle Yukanthur.

They ran into Anoran Hall, a wandering adept of Promehene, whom promptly joined them in fleeing.

Boulder blocking the cave entrance jiggled and shook.

Ignaeus and Minako took a position some fifty feet away from it.

The monster heaved as it lifted the large boulder.

Ignaeus shot and missed.

The creature grunted and chucked the boulder.

It missed too, much to the great fortune of targeted elf and monk.

They too fled now.

Some of the adventurers went north, others south, circling the ruins.

Loud thuds echoed as the monster gave chase.

It exploded, sprinting with surprising speed.

Ignaeus was trampled without mercy.

But this was not the end.

The monster built up too much momentum to simply stop.

Leaving a mangled corpse behind, it kept charging forward, shouldering Wilbalt.

Muscle-bound warrior dodged just in time to suffer the same fate as his ally.

Seven feet tall monstrosity made of flesh of many men picked up Ignaeus. Them it wielded the elf like flail, smacking Wilbalt with full force.

Alas, the warrior took this one full on; he was sent flying through air, and everything went black when he landed.

Anoran, ran up to the castle and wedged himself into one of the cracks.

He sweated as the monster approached the ruins.

He heard the portcullis grate violently.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the ruins.

Cleric jumped out of the crack and rushed towards two downed adventures.

Tam and Kenso joined as well.

Ignaeus was most certainly dead. His spine was completely broken.

Wilbalt was messed up, but miraculously alive.

“Where did it go?”

“It's somewhere in the ruins.”

“Let's get out of here!”

Two picked up the corpse, and two helped Wilbalt move.

“Up! Look up!”

The monster lifted ballista atop the south-west tower. It was loaded!

“Run! Run!”

WOOOOOOSH!

The bolt missed them by a large margin.

Adventurers did not stop until they reached Ironburg.

There Ambros brought the elf back from the dead.

Coldrain 10th–Shadowrath 1st

The party spent two weeks resting, recuperating, and planning their next step. Surprisingly, their plans did not include plans on revenge, but rather plans on avoiding danger and trouble.

On Coldrain 13th, Earthday, baron Sig and inquisitor Ironwill questioned Kho Rimbo. Magic-user begged and pleaded, arguing that Rall Kyle merely misunderstood him. He was not here acting on behalf of King Racoba, but was simply trying to get Rall to behave more responsibly.

On Coldrain 16th, Airday, baron and inquisitor held trial for Rall Kyle, former de-facto major of Ironburg. The man vacillated between desperation and rage, weeping and yelling in equal share. He was found guilty of treason, corruption, and mistreating the kings' subjects.

On Coldrain 17th, Waterday, Rall Kyle was drawn and quartered. It was a festive day, with Tam giving out free wine. Kho Rimbo learned his trial would be held on Shadowrath 2nd, Waterday.

On Coldrain 19th, Fireday, Ironwill asked Ambros what would be an appropriate punishment for Kho Rimbo. The latter reiterated that Kho Rimbo means well, despite sometimes having slightly unorthodox methods. The former pushed, claiming that Ambros was showing lenience because they were adventuring together. Neither agreed on mutual view of justice.

On Shadowrath 1st, Airday, Wilbalt, Warmund, Thorm, Drokh, Ignaeus, Minako, Kenso, Tam, Thorinda Bung, Syd, and Anoran Hail set out for Castle Yukanthur. If the cave was open, then they would abandon the ruins. If the cave was wedged shut, then they might continue the plunder.

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Shadowrath 1st, Airday

Party reached the ruins by noon. They spent an hour circling and scouting. The boulder was back; cave mouth was blocked. There was no hole in the boulder. Was it the same rock then, simply rotated, or another one?

South-west tower was the next stop. Adventurers destroyed the ballista. Then they carried the bolts to the well and threw them down. Finally, they descended down.

Gathered on the east side of the underground stream, they ascended and entered the constructed part of the dungeon complex. Stairs leading further down were mere hundred and fifty feet away.

“Which way?”

“Let's head right and explore that corridor.”

Moments later they broke into the chamber where weeks ago they fought three harpies.

They surprised thirty pig-faced orcs lairing there at the moment.

Ignaeus put to sleep ten of them, included all adventurers sans Minako and Thorinda.

While Minako was slapping allies awake, Thorinda was cleaving orcs with her brand new greataxe.

Kenso strode in, slaying one orc. Ignaeus followed, killing four. Thorm butchered two.

Survivors fled west. Adventurers let them escape.

Scavenging the corpses produced one hundred and thirty-seven copper pieces, twenty-five silver pieces, one hundred arrows, eight shortbows, and twenty scimitars.

Party moved south, passing short corridor. There they entered a chamber with screaming, ghostly apparition. No one cared much about it. This room had two more exits, one to north-west and one to south-west.

After briefly checking the northern one, the adventurers made an educated guess it must connect to the corridor where they fought wights. South direction now seemed more attractive.

This led them to a t-junction and an ambush.

They were jumped by five large, tiger-faced beastmen. Each of them looked like they were hit with a shovel, with broad noses and flat faces.

Drokh drew first blood; Minako karate-chopped one and stunned it; Kenso delivered a deep slash, allowing Thorm to finish one off.

Minako continued her assault, striking and kicking vital spots; Kenso likewise continued his surgical strikes. Wilbalt waded in, wielding his magical dagger. He stabbed one of the beastmen. Alas, his involvement also meant his allies could no longer fight effectively.

Syd contributed with his battleaxe; Wilbalt stabbed once more and was promptly bonked on top of his head, encouraging him to fall back.

Kenso hacked one to death; Ignaeus beheaded another one; Minako fisted one to death; Syd cleaved the last beastman's head in half.

Adventurers stood victorious once more. Beastmen had little valuables besides twenty-four electrum pieces and seventeen gold pieces.

Doors were to their left. Another junction and corridor beyond it to their right.

Forcing the doors led to small catastrophe for Thorinda—poor coordination resulted with doors being unstuck just as she was about to shove them, making her accidentally tumble into the chamber beyond.

Her fall was broken by soft, packed soil. The dirt was in a circular pattern, some ten feet in diameter. Outer rim was elevated, while the center was depressed.

“Hey–” she ignored the commotion behind her.

Anoran gazed into the darkness. Two bright red rubies appeared at the end of torchlight. They approached. Slowly at first. Then rapidly.

“Hey!”

Anoran fell back, while Thorm and Kenso took the front rank. Syd and Tam were just behind.

A familiar undead charged out of the darkness.

Their old friend.

Wight.

Will it suck what little life Kenso and Thorm still had left?

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rootring
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Adventurers

Character Race Class Description
Drokh Human Monk level 2 A tall, lean human monk with piercing eyes, weathered skin, and a warrior’s poise—calm and charismatic, he speaks with purpose and strikes with precision, wielding spear, bow, and blade.
Ignaeus Elf Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Kenso San Human Fighter level 3 An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Kho Rimbo Human Magic-user level 3 A knife throwing wizard extraordinaire. Covered in ritual knife scars. Cuts himself whilst casting. Prone to being sarcastic.
Minako Human Monk level 3 Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
Syd Grundy Human Fighter level 3 Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness.
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 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.
Wilbalt Abendeurer Human Fighter level 1 A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Coldrain 7th, Waterday

Thorm pushed past Thorinda and went straight for the left dwarf-wight; Kenso pushed as well, but went for the right one. Small cave now seemed even smaller, with a large stone sarcophagus splitting the combatants in half. Kho Rimbo weaseled in, swinging his wand. Magic missile struck the wight Thorm tore into.

The undead recoiled, and then clawed at the living dwarf. Thorm felt the life force abandon him. He was no longer a hero; now he was a mere swordsman. Kenso suffered the same fate; now degraded to warrior. Drokh desperately searched through the backpack to recover a vial of holy water. Excited, he smashed it at the wall right next to him, splashing Kho Rimbo and himself.

Unperturbed, Kho Rimbo kept blasting, hitting the dwarf-wight repeatedly. The undead was made dead again by the virtue of its head exploding from magical force trauma.

With steely resolve, Thorm went around the stone grave and attacked the undead fighting Kenso. His magical sword ran deep, forcing the abomination to target him instead. Thorm carried the burden of success and was now reduced to warrior. Kho Rimbo's wand was overheating from constant use and rubbing.

“AAAAAAA–” the creature screamed as it melted from holy water. Drokh recovered the second vial and struck the cave wall just behind the dwarf-wight.

“We won...”

“But at what cost?”

Eager to recoup their losses, adventurers summoned up the courage to open the large stone coffer. Inside was a dwarven skeleton dressed in long chain shirt. Atop it was a huge double-bitted greataxe. It was so big it spanned the whole length of the skeleton.

Wilbalt strode up to the coffin, his muscles bulging. He turned bright red as he failed to lift the axe. Then Thorinda approached, as elegant and bouncy as ever. She lifted the axe with ease. Wilbalt left the cave, defeated and deflated. Thorm took the armour off of the deceased dwarf. It fit him well.

Meme by Jan.

The party now discussed what to do next. Alas, their conversation was cut short by approaching puddle of transparent liquid. Cutting it only split it in half. Soon there were nearly eight poodles. Only Kho Rimbo's wand seemed to have any effect on them. Finally, a flask of military oil was chucked, forcing the puddles to move away from it.

Wounded and sucked of life, adventurers decided to hurry the back out. They crossed the large cave with burning gases. Then they ascended up the long tunnel. After an hour or so of travel they reached the large cave with subterranean stream.

Alas, it was not to be a free pass. Fourteen pig-faced orcs were in the middle of a discussion. Ignaeus and Kho Rimbo put an end to all this nonsense by putting everyone, including their allies, to sleep. Feeling merciful, they slapped other adventurers awake, and then proceeded to execute the monsters.

Few hours later and they exited the ruins of Castle Yukanthur by climbing up the well. Since it was already night, they sought a safe spot to camp and rest until morning.

Coldrain 8th, Earthday

“Yodel – ay – EEE – oooo!”

Echoing yodels woke up Kho Rimbo and Thorm whom had dozed off during their night watch.

“Yodel – ay – EEE – oooo!”

The yodeling continued, apparently coming from the ruins. Thorm felt a strong urge to go and meet the singers, but Kho Rimbo convinced him otherwise.

The sun soon came up and the yodeling stopped.

Adventurers packed up their belongings and returned to Ironburg. As they approached they were greeted by two patrols—men of Sig of Dostrogoths, new baron of Ironburg. The same man who took in Ambros for his crimes against kingdom of Hara.

Once in the thorp, the party was approached by Vimaro, six foot two, two hundred pounds of flesh, a flamboyant cleric of Mitra.

“Which one of you is Kho Rimbo?”

“That would be me.”

“Sig and Rupert would like to speak with you. Please follow me.”

And so Kho Rimbo was led to the townhouse where Rall Kyle and Ambros were kept.

Adventurers shrugged, spent a day resting, healing, and stocking up, and then left for Castle Yukanthur once more.

Coldrain 10th, Spiritday

“Let's explore that cave on the east side!”

Thorinda, Syd, Drokh, Thorm, Ignaeus, Minako, Kenso, Tam, and Wilbalt crawled through the hole dug through a large boulder blocking the cave mouth. This led them into a sizeable cave with many tunnels.

Going south led to a split heading left and right. Left side was a small cave and a dead end. Right side was a winding tunnel with few offshoots. One of them was a dead end with a large white palm print. Possibly chalk.

Following the tunnel led the party to a most curious circular cave. The floor was covered with fur and cloth blankets, as well as strips of leather. The floor was uneven, with sizeable bumps all around. At the opposite end was a skeleton, as if tucked in, with blankets covering it up to its chest. Its arms were out, by its side.

Ignaeus, Thorm, and Drokh advanced. Others shone light or found some other excuse to keep distance. As Ignaeus cut the largest rug bump, it began rising. And rising. And rising. Soon it towered over the elf at seven feet tall.

Ignaeus cut again.

Rugs fell down.

A large monster, made of stitched together humanoid extremities, stood in front of him. Its two eyes were glassy, emotionless, and devoid of any semblance of intelligence.

Drokh cut at it. His spear bent, failing to penetrate the flesh. Ignaeus hit to. His sword did not cut the flesh. Thorm sliced. He drew blood.

“YU!!!” the monster roared, sending adventurers fleeing for their life. It struck Thorm with one of its large fists, nearly killing him.

“KAN!!!” the monster bellowed as its heavy footsteps echoed throughout the cave, drowning out adventurers' panicked retreat.

“THUR!!!” the monster thundered as it tore through the web cast upon it by Ignaeus.

“YU!!!” rolled out from the cave opening, following the fleeing adventurers.

How far will they run?

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

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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.
Drokh Human Monk level 2 A tall, lean human monk with piercing eyes, weathered skin, and a warrior’s poise—calm and charismatic, he speaks with purpose and strikes with precision, wielding spear, bow, and blade.
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.
Kho Rimbo Human Magic-user level 3 A knife throwing wizard extraordinaire. Covered in ritual knife scars. Cuts himself whilst casting. Prone to being sarcastic.
Syd Grundy Human Fighter level 3 Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness.
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 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 3rd, Earthday

“Where did they go?!”

“One fled south, another west, through the vermin door!”

“Come on, let's push further south, just to see what's there!”

Ambros, Ignaeus, Beorg, and Tarkus formed a rearguard.

Alaric, Thorm, Kenso, and Thorinda were the vanguard.

Wilbalt, Warmund, Tam, Jacob, and Diocletian were between the two.

Seventy feet long corridor prostrated beyond the antechamber. Twenty feet in was corridor to the east, at thirty feet was corridor to the west, and at seventy feet was a T-junction.

The vanguard advanced east. Breaking through and strolling forth revealed a sizeable chamber, some fifty by fifty feet. It was a tall, domed chamber, with an angled ledge running the will circumference of it.

Upon the ledge were three bare-chested, winged creatures. They cackled and unleashed their charming song. Within minutes all were under their spell sans Alaric and the rearguard.

Paladin of Tyr would've have surely perished protecting his allies, were it not for Ignaeus and his Sleep spell. All three harpies fell down with a thud; their spell broken, Kenso, Tam, and Alaric promptly executed them.

Most of the adventurers spread out to search the chamber. Besides dead monstrosities and three exits—to the north, south, and west—there was nothing else of notice.

“Huh?”

Alaric felt few drops of liquid on his shoulder. Unsure what to do, he contemplated what the source might be. The source fell on his head, and caked him completely. Paladin's chain shirt began rusting rapidly. As did his greatsword, spear, and handaxe.

Tam helped the paladin take of his chain shirt. Alas, in the process his plate got squirted, so it too rusted. Alaric threw his armour as far as he could. Transparent ooze consumed it.

The party fled.

As they passed through the second dungeon level, they ran into three troglodytes camping in the blasted chamber. Beastmen did not last long. Thorinda stabbed one straight through its eye and cranium. Kenso decapitated another. And Wilbalt cleave the last one in half.

Truly, an awesome display of power.

From then on, they moved unopposed, reaching the spiral staircase without much trouble.

Coldrain 4th, Fireday

It was well past midnight by the time the party of thirteen exited the dungeons of Castle Yukanthur. They had some treasure, no one died, and just a few limped. What a merry time.

“Hail. Well met.”

Adventurers stood still in front of the ruined castle. Just to their left, in pitch black, two men stood. They lit up a torch.

Both men were large. The bigger of the two was dressed in plate mail and wore a closed greathelm, concealing his face. The smaller of the two was dressed in chain shirt. He held up the torch. A silver sword hung from his necklace, something Alaric recognised immediately—the holy symbol of Tyr.

“I am Sig of Dostrogoths. And this–” pointing at the other man “–is Rupert Ironwill.”

Sig's armour was blemished and dented, but well fitting. Shield was on his broad back. A sheathed sword hung by his hip. His stance was relaxed. His voice confident.

Rupert's plate was no more polished than Sig's. His bell-shaped, thick-boned head was red, but his physiognomy did not match that of an average Altanian.

Adventurers, still unsure how to react, or whom to push forward, were mostly mute. They eventually scrambled and inquired the duo about their intentions.

“We have been waiting for you. Yes, we were hoping to catch you as you exit the ruins. We have been observing you for some time now. We are here to bring Ambros Ap Mortain to justice.”

“Who? We don't know any Ambros!”

“That man with golden gavel. That one right over there.” Sig pointed at Ambros.

“On whose orders would you do so?” Alaric asked.

“On the orders of Wizard-King Racoba.” Sig replied calmly.

At that moment adventurers broke out in angry cacophony, calling Racoba names, and rejecting any possibility of handing over their friend.

“You!” Rupert suddenly exploded, wagging his index finger at Alaric “How dare you, paladin of Tyr, debase yourself so! By associating with these scoundrels!”

But Alaric did not allow himself to be shaken. He rebuffed Rupert and restated how Ambros is a man of Law, and how these are good people.

This back and forth continued for some time. Adventurers demanded evidence; Sig and Rupert provided evidence; adventurers claimed this was one-sided and that they were fed propaganda by Racoba; Tam took out his manhood and peed all over himself; Rupert claimed they spoke with many people and corroborated the accusations.

Some of the adventurers called for violence, Sig reiterated his desire to avoid violence. The impasse was broken by Alaric's passionate plea “Ambros is the finest man I have ever traveled beside. I have watched him heal strangers without reward, risk his life for companions, and stand firm against darkness when others faltered. The charges laid against him seemed impossible.”

Silence followed.

A throbbing vein crossed Rupert's forehead.

Sig was rubbing an emerald between his thumb and index finger.

He turned to Rupert and nodded.

Bishop of Tyr nodded back.

“If you what you say is true, then I can offer the following. Rupert will cast Detect Evil. Should you pass, we will take you to Ironburg. There we will give Ambros a fair hearing. If we still believe him to be guilty, then we will take him to Hara and put all of you to blade. That is the best I can offer you.”

Few brief whispers, and adventures agreed.

“Lay down your weapons. We will escort you. No harm shall befall anyone in my presence.” and with that Sig raised his right hand, extending his index and middle finger.

Two dozen men approached from darkness, taking the adventurers' weapons.

And so they marched to Ironburg.

“Tell me, paladin” Sig spoke to Alaric “if we prove what we said is true, would you consider joining us? We could use a man of character like yourself.”

Alaric pondered the warrior's words. He had only one thing on his mind—prove that Ambros is innocent.

With sunrise came a new revelation. Sig's force counted nearly ten dozen men, all hardened warriors. They swiftly seized Ironburg, capturing Rall Kyle in the process.

“By the powers vested in me by the Wizard-King Klekless Racoba” Sig thundered “I accuse you, Rall Kyle, for unjust treatment of the kingdom's subjects, corruption, failing to deliver what you had been paid to do, stealing taxes from the kingdom, and treason. I shall judge you accordingly!”

And so the adventurers learned that Sig of Dostrogoths was the new baron of Ironburg. His men shared food with locals. Each family received one gold piece, a gift from the treasury of munificent Wizard-King. They were all fed-up with that drunkard Rall, and did not put up much of a protest.

Adventurers were returned their weapons.

“You are no prisoners. I do expect you to behave properly while in my domain.” Sig explained “Ambros will be held in the Kyle's house, together with Rall. Neither of them will be allowed to leave.”

Alaric hurriedly began brainstorming how to get his friend out of trouble.

Coldrain 6th, Airday

Drokh, Thorm, Kenso, Kho Rimbo, Wilbalt, Thorinda, and Syd arrived at the ruins of Castle Yukanthur by noon. They reasoned there isn't much they can do to help Ambros, so why not go on an adventure instead?

They spent rest of the day lowering Drokh down the well. He confirmed there was an underground stream at the bottom of it. Then they camped in the wilderness and enjoyed nice weather.

Winters in Barbarian Altanis are quite warm.

Coldrain 7th, Waterday

On the next day they found a thick branch, tied the rope around it, and then placed it on top of the well. With two hundred feet of rope in total, with tied knots for easier use, they were confident they could all descend without much trouble.

Everyone took off their armour, tied it into a bundle and then to the back. And so they rappelled down, one by one, releasing themselves into the cold water. Everyone swum to the east side.

This is where they recognised a hewn chamber, confirming the were indeed on the second dungeon level.

“Let's see what is on the other side!”

So they swam to the west. Another cave, another river section to get across. Yet another cave, but a massive one, stretching nearly hundred feet. Twenty feet broad tunnel slopped downwards to the west, while south side ascended in jagged elevations. At the end was a door in the cave wall, some ten feet off the ground.

Men fought to form a pyramid upon which loosely dressed Thorinda could stand upon, so she could force the doors open. Lo and behold, the doors revealed a corridor connecting to one of the longer corridors they have explored in the past. This was familiar terrain for the adventurers.

“Come on, let's take a look...”

Party formed ranks, and began the descent down the wide cave tunnel. Down and round, and round and down, they went. Ten minutes? An hour? Ten hours?

Difficult to say.

Stalagmites and stalactites made progress difficult. Width varied greatly, from thirty feet at its widest, and barely five feet at its narrowest.

“Look!”

Ahead of them was another hundred feet of descent, with five foot drops every ten to twenty feet. But ahead was a vast cave with natural stone columns supporting the ceiling, illuminated by sporadic balls of flame produced by burning natural gas.

Adventurers proceeded carefully, hugging the east wall. They passed many smaller tunnels, theorising these might be connected to other chambers. They spotted carbonised corpses on the west side. They also noticed there was an adjoining cave, but they couldn't see inside for it was roughly twenty feet above them. Cave columns were darkened at that height.

Cave to the north was at their level, so they went there. Inside was a pool of crystal clear water. A boulder with some inscription blocked path to the right. No one but Thorm could read the symbols.

“In memory of Legral Thorm, slayer of orcs and goblins.”

Thorm was shocked.

“Come on, let's get it out of the way and see what's there!”

With a little bit of effort and sweat grease, Thorinda, Thorm, and Kenso rolled the boulder aside. Beyond it was a narrow tunnel, barely enough to fit through in a single file.

Thorinda shone her light head.

A massive stone sarcophagus rested in the center of round cave. Its heavy stone lid was engraved with runes and geometrical patterns.

The cave was unnaturally cold.

Two pairs of baleful crimson eyes poked from behind the sarcophagus.

Two deformed, long dead, dwarven corpses climbed upon the sarcophagus.

And then they lunged at Thorinda.

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

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