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Character Class Description
Derennan Dwarf level 3 A dwarf hailing from Western Wastes.
Barad the Bald Magic-user level 1 Bald, beardless, chinless, and lazy-eyed.
Rashomon Elf level 2 A dangerous looking elf.
Llyfed Elf level 2 Thin and balding elf whom also happens to be Rashomon's friend.
Conly Fighter level 1 Young man with brown hair and eyes. Carries a shield with large acorn symbol.
Algon Thief level 1 Handsome and friendly heartthrob; shifty at heart.

Willowind 13th, Earthday

“I must return. I must.”

Derennan recruited Rashomon, Llyfed, Conly, and Algon. Together they would head back to the burial mound.

Barad decided to skip the expedition to the place where a horrific skeleton with flaming beard turned Basson into a lifeless husk whilst another skeleton cleaved stocky Gwendin in half.

Could anyone have blamed him?

Either way, the adventuring party returned to the mound with little difficulties. The only encounter of notice was a disgruntled bunch of gnomes entering Hara.

Derennan led the party into the mound through the secret entrance he discovered last time. They cautiously descended, painfully aware that their former allies might have transformed into new, potent adversaries.

Gwendin's two chunks begun to rot, attracting maggots and flies. Basso still looked like a sun dried raisin—raisin with grotesquely deformed face of horror, that is.

“I'll stand and watch guard at this intersection. An army of skeletons marched through the doors to the south last time. I don't want them to surprise us.” the dwarf announced.

“Uh, have you recovered all the valuables from your former associates? They don't need them anymore...” Algon inquired charmingly.

Llyfed and Conly descended further down, stepping over the remains of their friends. They carefully inched into the chamber with sarcophagus.

Nothing assaulted them.

The sarcophagus was half open.

A headless skeleton in chainshirt laid in it.

The elf poked it.


Conly poked it.


Conly relieved it of valuables: a chunky necklace with blue sheen and ruby stone, a large gold ring with ruby stone, and a nice looking silver brooch.

He put the ring on.

Algon screamed.

Rashomon turned in time to see a skeleton dressed in glistening chainshirt holding stone slab like it was nothing. An unreal flaming beard adorned his skull.

The undead flung the slab to the side, and tried to jump Algon. The thief evaded it just in time for Rashomon to cast Magic Missile at the skeleton.

Derennan' prediction came true. A horde of undead poured out of the south corridor.

The dwarf gingerly placed the torch on the ground.

Then he gripped his polearm and held his ground.

Algon ran up to him, preferring to fight greatsword-wielding skeletons over the scary life-sucking skeleton.

“Fall back into the crypt, three of us can surely beat him!” Conly yelled at Rashomon.

The elf obliged, taking a few steps back. He made sure to spray the skeleton with holy water as he did so. Alas, the undead was more than happy to follow, tackling the elf to the ground.

It knotted its unnaturally chilly skeletal fingers around Rashomon's neck, and then leaned in for a deadly kiss. The elf could feel life essence being sucked right out of him. It felt as if someone plunged arms right into his stomach and was churning his insides.

Conly and Llyfed witnessed Rashomon withering in front of their eyes.


Derennan destroyed several skeletons, but one finally managed to get to him.

The dwarf was badly wounded.

“Will you forgive me if I run?” Algon asked charmingly.

“Do as you wish.”

The dwarf stood his ground.

Cough cough!

Rashomon rolled, coughing violently.

The skeleton crumbled to dust as it went for the second kiss, which would've surely had spelled the elf's end.

Llyfed propped him up whilst Conly ran out to help Derennan and Algon. He saw a properly bloody dwarf holding a number of skeletons at bay.

The party quickly disposed of the remaining undead.

“We are here for the red ring.” Derennan reminded everyone.

“This one?” Conly asked, showing a thick, ill fitting gold ring with ruby stone on his index finger.


“Let's check what the other guy had!”

Indeed, the other guy had treasure as well: a golden necklace, a copper bracelet, and a silver bracer.

They also found a chest with 4 000 electrum pieces, and another chest with 7 000 copper pieces. They also found a well preserved parchment with squiggly lines and an x on it.

“We have one more thing to do. Pass me the oil and torches.”

They threw bassos shrivelled husk into the sarcophagus, and doused him with oil. Derennan threw in the torch.

“We are done here. Let' head back.”

The party partied hard at the Circled Star Inn, their home for the last few months.

“W-we should go straight to that old guy and buy his fucking house, right now!”

“What, in the middle of the night?!”


“No, I don't think that'd be a good idea.”

“Yeah, that'd be a bit weird...”

“OK, OK, we do it tomorrow then... Bartnederer! Another round!”

Willowind 14th, Fireday

Norwood Bode, a middle aged man with slivers of white, warmly received Derennan and his friends. After a bit of friendly haggling they reached a mutually satisfactory agreement: the party would pay 3 500 gold coins, and he would vacate the building within two weeks.

And what a nice home they bought themselves! A lean, two-story building, with 30 by 20 feet base. Its half-timbered construction has been infilled with concrete rendered with white stucco giving it a bright, airy appearance. The terracotta tiled roof, pebble floor, and wattlework interior walls gave that homey country ambience.

“These walls hold many stories.”

Norwood used to run an adventuring party, a successful one at that if one is to believe him.

“I see there is only six of you here. Let me tell you that twelve of us called this place home for many seasons. I hope it serves you as well. Let me show you one more thing...”

A surprise—and a welcome one, at that—the building also has a cellar with vault, protected with two iron-barred doors.

Happy with their deal, the party was ready to head to Zarifa Pilter.

She made them wait, again. For hours.

“The clown is back! And the circus grew even bigger!”

A buxom, lithe woman slithered for her greeting.

Rashomon kept his mouth shut, unlike Llyfed.

“A bald elf, with rotting teeth? Why are you even addressing me?” she fired back.

Algon opened his mouth, but alas, made the situation even worse.

“I cannot believe it! Even when you partner with humans you manage to find the biggest imbeciles?” another stab by her.

“Well, intelligence is not a trait commonly present in those that undertake dangerous delves.” Derennan the Diplomat and Businessdwarf defused the situation once more.

“Why is that child wearing what is mine?”

“Conly? Oh, he is merely safeguarding the ring for you.”

Zarifa peppered them all with casual insults and slurs as she inspected the ring. Her cold, blue eyes began sparkling as she announced that yes, this is the ring she wanted them to retrieve.

By now the elves were giving her a death stare, which only seemed to amuse her further.

“Now, could you explain the deal you proposed last time. About the treasure we recover.”

“Yes, could you state it more directly?”

Zarifa rolled her eyes so hard she spent the whole foyer spinning.

“Direct?! Direct?! You imbeciles!”

“You bring me treasure first. I give you a good offer. Direct enough?!”

“Can we get it appraised elsewhere first?”

“Where? Doral the Lazyeyed? Don't make me laugh! If you want to shop around then our deal is off!”

“But what if you give us cutthroat price...”

“Just because I despise you doesn't mean I don't like good business. I'll always give you two options: 30% of appraised value paid on hands within a week or 65% of sell price if we represent you in a bigger market. The second option takes between three to five months, but will always be a bigger payout.”

“Can you follow all these numbers? Are your little minds spinning?”

“No, not at all. You know, I'm something of a mathematician myself.” Barad the Bald spoke.

Zarifa sized him up, without her signature snark.

The party proceeded to complete the negotiations, signed a contract that could cost them their balls, and banked 1 400 gold coins for jewellery recovered from the mound.

“You seem like a learned man.” Zarifa playfully clawed Barad's arm “Tell me more about that green cloak of yours. It is quite a statement piece.”

“Oh, I'd love to. You see, when I was in Antil, I got invited to this very private party that I had to arrive costumed...

She listened to him with the attention of lustful barbarian.

“How would you like to spend the night at the Pleasure Palace?”

“Oh, lady, I couldn't possibly afford such a fine establishment!”

“This stay would be on the House...”

“I'm in! Godspeed fellow adventurers, see you tomorrow!”

“Bah, better him than us!” elves grumbled on their way out.

“Talk to me wizard! Now that we got rid of that idiot friends of yours we can speak like learned people...”

Barad soon discovered that Zarifa is a raging sapiosexual.

He barely survived the night.

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Character Class Description
Derennan Dwarf level 2 A dwarf hailing from Western Wastes.
Barad the Bald Magic-user level 1 Bald, beardless, chinless, and lazy-eyed.
Basso Halfling level 2 A stable boy whom got tired of shovelling horse shit.
Gwendin Cleric level 1 A follower of Bondor, god of swords, carrying a sacred silver scimitar.

Willowind 7th, Waterday

Brent Goose, Llyfed, Basso, Gomm, Derennan stood in front of Doral, Hara's jeweller, all sweaty and dirty after their five day expedition to the ruined tower and back.

“Yes, these seem like globes of pure silver. You could probably get between 500 and 2000 gold coins for each.”

People of Hara observed the party with great interest as they made their way to the jeweller. There is no doubt that the word of their newly found riches is spread fast.

Since each orb weighted 172 lbs, carrying them required great effort, leaving little means to defend oneself. And they had nine.

“Tell you what. I'll offer you 500 gold coins for one right now!”

“Make it 800 and you have a deal. I hope we can have a long and prosperous business relationship.” Derennan countered.

“500 and I'll appraise your next haul for free.”

“Fine but you’ll need to accommodate us while my companions run some errands. We’ll be in your shop until they return.”

“Of course, be my guests. Perhaps I could interest you in some of the wonderful rings and necklaces I have on display?”

Basso leaned in to take a good look at the necklaces.

“Ya these look mighty pretty if you don’t mind me asking do any of these have any sort of special properties?”

“They make all the women fall in love with you!” Doral leans towards Basso and adds “Yes, even the halflings!”

Painfully aware of their situation the party decided to use their proceeds from one silver ball to procure wagon, two draft horses, and twenty mercenaries.

Basso, the stable boy, went looking for horses, while Gomm ran to the Fighters' Guild to find some muscle. The rest stayed at Doral's store.

An hour later, the halfling returned with horses and wagon, while the thief brought along three ill-equipped, but tough looking, men.

They purchased nice silk sacks from Doral, put a 30 inch silver orb in each, and then loaded them up in the wagon. And then they began looking for ways to liquidate them.

Dwarven armourer turned them down, for he had no use of silver. “Too soft to protect you from stabs.”

Human weaponsmith couldn't afford one. “Do you know how long it'd take me to pay it back!” he stopped as he counted fingers on both of his hands “This much!”

“Brent, what about that girl of yours? The one from rich family that became your cultist–erm, follower?”

Indeed, that connecting was sufficient to gran them access to the Pleasure Palace, a private club for wealthy merchants, travellers, and nobility. It was also a home to Pilter family, third richest one after Imraell and Namelin.

Derennan and Basso took it upon themselves to lead the negotiations. Rest of the party found a safe spot by the city walls and waited there.

Short duo was first made to wait an hour or so. Then they were let in, quickly scuttled to upper floor, and led into an opulent foyer. There they waited for an hour more. Basso was increasingly aware of how filthy and unrepresentable he was. He tried to clean himself with some spit.

Suddenly a lithe, buxom woman stepped into the room. Her long blond braid was like a whip; her piercing blue eyes like two daggers. She wore a dark blue dress and a face full of contempt.

“I am Zarifa Pilter, the oldest daughter of Pilter. I do not approve of my sister's foolishness, nor that cult of yours. State your business, midgets!”

The duo did not allow her insults to sway them. They presented their case with conviction, and spoke in great detail what kind of dangers they had to overcome in order to return them to civilization. They might've exaggerated a thing or two.

Either way, although Zarifa's disposition remained unchanged, she was professional enough to offer a representation agreement. She would take the orbs—should they pass quality control—to Tarantis or City State of the Invincible Overlord and sell them for an attractive price. It'd be commission based, for 40% of profit.

She believed each orb could fetch anywhere between 1500 and 2500 gp. The process would take three to five months to complete.

Negotiations were long, filled with jabs and racist insults from Zarifa, but Derennan was unrelenting. He read every line and all the small text.

“What is this here?! We are liable for all expenses even if you lose the goods?!”

“Oh! So you can read!”

Finally, a good deal was struck to satisfaction of both parties.

“Do you often go to dangerous places and return with such interesting objects?”

“Yes, that's what we do for living.”

“Then I have another deal to offer you. If you come to me—first thing after each expedition—to look over the interesting goods, we will represent you for 35% commission.”


“Beware. Should I learn you went to someone else first I will have your balls removed. And I'm not talking about your silver orbs.”


The duo went to shake hands with Zarifa, with the dwarf saying

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

The steely woman rejected their approach, rebuffing them “No, not at all.”

They could feel her icy gaze on their back as they were leaving the chamber.

“How about 4000 gold coins for seven orbs, right now? Cash on hands.” she shoot just as they were to close the doors.

The duo agreed. They will be paid after all the orbs have been tested, which was to take a week.

“Guys, I think we need to get ourselves a base of operations!”

Willowind 12th, Waterday

Derennan spent a week recovering and healing up.

Basso, on the other hand, hit the streets looking for properties on sale!

This is what he found, from cheapest to most luxurious:

  • A 150 square feet dilapidated cottage in western Hara, just behind the Fighters' Guild. The family there fell into destitution after husband was slain. They were all sold into slavery and their cottage is being sold for 100 gp.
  • A 400 square feet, single story cottage in northern Hara, flanked by Thieves' and Assasins' Guilds. The planks are still drenched with blood of previous inhabitants. 250 gp.
  • A 800 square feet, two story townhouse in east Hara next to Imraell's mansion and other important establishments. Owned by an adventuring party which left for far away lands. Current owner has decided to retire and is selling it for 3800 gp.
  • A 1200 square feet, two story villa with terrace, by the river. Previous owners was a merchant who gambled it away. It is available for 5400 gp.

Basso took copious notes so he can report the news to rest of the adventurers.

“Let's collect our coin from Zarifa.”

“Sounds good.”

Derennan, Barad the Bald, Basso, and Gwendin went to the Pleasure Palace. The reception was as chilly as before, but all the coin was there.

“How would you like to fetch me a ring? A nice, gold ring with a big chunky ruby attached to it? Some of you might die, but that's the risk I'm willing to take.”

“Sounds like a job for us! Say more.”

Zarifa produced a parchment with map to the burial mound of long forgotten barbarian king. It was just few miles west of Hara.

“Try to avoid attention from the locals. They still think this dead guy means something.”

The quartet loaded up and marched west.

“It should be right here.”

“See, a mound straight ahead.”

Indeed, a simple earthen mound laid lazily in front of them. It was covered with bushes and overgrowth. A copse of woods sprouted by its east side.

The party circled the mound first. The copse had footprints of a large canine leading off into the woods. The only entrance was on south side, a simple slabs of stone acting as pillars.

Heading down, they discovered a weird looking skeleton. It was vaguely human-like. It was taller, with weird legs, and canine shaped head.

The corridors were simple packed soil framed with stone slabs and wooden pillars. They were narrow, barely five feet in width. Any dwarf would be insulted with shoddy construction.

Following further down, Basso activated a crude axe trap. Just as he stepped of the last stair, he felt something soft. An axe sprung from the ground, hitting him in the chest. Luckily, he was a stout halfling so it meant nothing to him! Nothing!

Moving on the party decided to explore the t-shaped junction before checking the closed doors. Another set of stairs. East were leading up, to a plinth with a basin. West were leading down, turning into darkness.

This time Derennan took the lead. He went up the stairs, pressing each stair with the polearm. Basso followed behind.

“Seems safe?”

The moment he stepped off the last stair, three openings revealed themselves on the basin. A spray of thick, oily substance covered both the dwarf and halfling.

“Are we dead?”

“No, it doesn't seem so.”

Well lubed duo descended back down, and backtracked to the closed doors. To be honest, it was more of a stone slab blocking a passageway than real doors.

Derennan carefully removed the latch and then prodded the slab open. He felt something was off, hence he quickly jumped to the side. Basso did the same. A big flash was seen; no sound whatsoever.

“Wow, that could've blinded us!”

The chamber was completely empty. Dwarf theorised it might've been a temporary chamber to house excavation tools and similar.

Deeper they went, taking the west stairs. Now they found a corridor with long stone slab with carved figures of warriors fighting.

Another stone doors were to their left, a t-junction in front, and stairs leading north. Checking the doors revealed a room full of upright skeletons holding greatswords.

“Let's close this one, yes?”

The junction split into stairs leading down straight ahead, and leading up to the right. A relief of warrior with wild hair holding a greatsword above his head was just at the bottom of the stairs.

“The stairs leading up surely lead to secret exit!”

Indeed, the long, winding passageway terminated with a round stone slab, very similar to the one they've seen on the north entrance.

“Should we open it now?”

“No, we don't want anything coming in. Let's head back down to that relief.”

At the bottom of those stairs were two stone slabs, each mortared shut. Basso scrapped the mortar off of the east slab. He could feel unnatural cold as he worked. Then he pressed his shoulder, and forced the slab down.

Pushing with great force, he tumbled forward, stepping over the slab, and landing in a simple chamber. A skeleton with flowing red beard, dressed in an expensive looking chainmail, stood in front of the opened stoned sarcophagus.

Basso hit him, but his weapon bounced right back off of it. Then he felt terrible, terrible coldness as the undead grasped him with an iron grip.

“Gwendin! Pass me your silver scimitar!”

Alas, still recoiling from the horror, this time he missed. The roaring undead did not miss. Everyone witnessed Basso shrivelling in front of their eyes. It looked as if the undead sucked the soul right out of him!

Gwendin picked up her holy scimitar and faced the icy doom.

“Derennan! We must flee!” Barad cried as horde of greatsword wielding undead poured out from behind them.

Dwarf and magic-user quickly ran up the stairs, towards what they believed to be a secret exit. They poured some oil and set in aflame.

Gwendin, locked into combat with the undead that wasted Basso, failed to spot incoming horde. By the time she realised there was someone—something—behind her, it was too late.

Skeleton cleaved her in half.

“You stood there bravely, daughter.”

Booming voice echoed.

A powerfully built man with blue skin and long white hair towered over Gwendin.

“Prove yourself worthy or spend an eternity suffering.”

Gwendin stood on top of her corpse; an angel of bright light; holding two burning scimitars.

“Take vengeance. You have thirty seconds.”

That was all the instructions she needed.

Her first attack did not connect—this incorporeal form took time to get used to.

Her second attack turned the skeleton into a pile of bones.

Her third attack beheaded the skeleton with red beard.

“You did well, daughter. You shall spend an eternity in my harem.”

Derennan protected their back while Barad ran up.

“Oh, no! The doors are stuck! Oh no!”

They didn't even budge under the magic-user.

Derennan chucked more burning oil. This was a narrow tunnel; he could fight the skeletons one by one.

First one burned to crisp. Second one was shattered to pieces.

“Switch! Maybe you can force them open!”


They move a bit.


They move a bit again.

“Oh no!”

A skeleton jumped out of fire, swinging at Barad.

The chinless wizard miraculously dodged.

Even more miraculously, he managed to knock off the skeleton's head with the pommel of his dagger.

Accidentally? Deliberately?

Doesn't matter, result was the same.


Derennan flew out as the stone slab tore through overgrowth.

“We must flee now; but we shall return to avenge our friends!”

Barad knew a thing or two about that, having just recently fled a major city in the Barbarian Altanis.

Will he have it any better in Hara?

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Character Class Description
Brent Goose Cleric level 5 An eccentric, but charismatic, cleric seeking the Holy Bird. White robes and black cloak conceal his tall, frail and anemic frame. His eagle-like nose is exposed for all to see.
Llyfed Elf level 1 Thin and balding elf whom also happens to be Rashomon's friend.
Basso Halfling level 1 A stable boy whom got tired of shovelling horse shit.
Gomm Thief level 5 Swarthy, good looking, dark-skinned thief. Sweet opium-like aroma is his fragrance of choice.
Derennan Dwarf level 1 A dwarf hailing from Western Wastes.

Blackmoon 13th, Earthday

“Something's off...”

Rashomon and Lyffed found Hara's reception colder than usual.

At the Fighters' Guild they find out that Hawkwerth and his party have been trash-talking two elves and their adventuring band for weeks.

Now everybody knows them as cowards, slave-boys, and incompetent folk that needs saving. Reputation they spent weeks building, now in tatters.

“Well, we know what and who we are.”

Rashomon took to the taverns and inns, buying people rounds, telling tales of his great adventures and reminding people that Hawkwerth is a nobody:

“Hawkwerth wet his pants in our last encounter. He is nothing more than a back alley thug.”

Llyfed spent two weeks studying Read Magic, dreaming of understanding two scrolls they've recovered in the last two months of adventuring.

Whilst looking for the best deal for his gold necklace, Rashomon runs into a sickly looking man. Alas, the man accidentally sneezed at the elf, and then vomited on his boots while trying to apologise.

Rashomon's immune system wasn't up to the task of dealing with a filthy human, so he fell ill few days after the unlucky encounter.

Basso spent his days gathering any and all interesting rumours and leads. He learned the following:

  • Klekless Racoba, a rogue wizard in hiding, still hasn't been captured. Imrael family is is now offering 3 000 gp bounty for his head. Namelin family is offering 3 000 pp to anyone whom brings Klekless alive.
  • Attacks on caravans have started happening again. Sometimes they are hit deep within Hara territory.
  • Gnomes of Ractuan are unhappy that two of their barges sent to Hara went missing.
  • Demons, devils, and other wicked monstrosities have been spotted at Midnight Goddess Hills.

Gomm has been laying low in Hara ever since he fled Antil. Him, as well as few other from Hydra Company members escaped the Windgod's Capital by bribing a ship captain to take them just as their former base was being run down by enraged clerics of Shang-Ta.

Either way, Gomm registered at the local Thieves' Guild, and did his best not to stand out. Sneaky little fellow he is, one day he overheard an interesting conversation:

“Are you sure about the veracity of this map?”

“Fingar himself checked it.”

“And it leads to the Necromancer's former study?”


“This is big. You have my blessing.”

He couldn't hear the rest of the discussion, nor see the map. But Gomm know the man who rolled it up and took it with him. It was Philo Gaunter, the proprietor of the Night House inn.

Willowind 3rd, Earthday

“I think it is time to go back. That cylindrical coffer ought to hold great treasure! I mean it was behind two locked doors and two trap rooms!”

“You speak sense, halfling.”

“Let's assemble a party and head back there!”

Basso gathered the following folk: Brent Goose, and his three students Toucan, Daisy, and Della; Llyfed; Gomm, his old friend from Antil; and Derennan, a stout dwarf from desolate desert.

They loaded on the rations, water, and means of limited destruction. And off they went, dreaming riches.

Willowind 4th, Fireday

“I'd like us to go straight to that chamber and see what's inside the coffer.”

“Maybe we should explore other routes? If there is treasure there, I'm pretty sure it's safe. We have the key and there is a mean trap.”

“Wasn't there a long corridor to south? Maybe it'd be interesting...”

Half an hour later the party concluded that yes, they will go to check out Basso's siren.

The party, led by Llyfed headed to the room which they exited into following a secret passage way from the treasure room.

But no one could find the secret opening!

Derennan the Dwarf studied the walls attentively. A master craftsman must've made them, for the joints were nearly invisible.

“We have to go the long way around...”

On they went, making sure to avoid busty statue.

The room with water stains was now even dirtier and damper. Wise cleric shot a pebble at the water. Nothing came out to eat them.

“It's safe guys.”

The secret passageway leading into Golding's former lair was still wide open. Smell was off. There were no corpses.

“Cool, a self-cleaning dungeon!” one of them chirped.

Finally, the party had reached the locked doors leading into the room with three supersonic scythes. A long, long discussion ensued about how to proceed. Llyfed was the only one who could see gossamer string running at shin height. Attempts to burn it were for naught. Then Basso had a brilliant idea of chucking an oil flask right at the ground.


The flask exploded just few inches off the ground, splashing a ten foot wide area. It immediately caught fire due the the burning torch that was resting within the splash area.


Brent and Derennan turned around just to see Toucan and Daisy overpowered by four long, large, eel-like muscular tubes of gray flesh. They coiled around Brent's followers and then brought them down with their bulk. From there they bored into the flesh with great ease.

“Master, save us! Please! Master!”

Brent took a few steps back, to safe distance, and with wall behind his back. And then he took out his sling, and started shooting.

Toucan perished in front of his eyes. Daisy followed as well, despite Derennan cleaving one of the monsters in half with his polearm. Della and Llyfed took down another one.

“Master, call on Kadrim to save us, please, Master!”

Della cried as two muscular tentacles constrained her.

“It hurts, it hurts!”

She screamed; snot, spittle and blood dripping out of her as three hellish worms minced her soft flesh.

Brent stood at safe distance, holding his sling, while Della, his last follower, was being sucked dry.

She too perished in front of him.

Now one of the worms latched onto Brent, while other went for Derennan. Llyfed found out the creatures' weakness—fire. He tickled the worm hanging off Brent with a little bit of torchlight.

Success! The monster immediately dropped.

Derennan turned to Basso and politely asked him to burn the monster, despite the latter being attached to his armpit.

As it usually goes, this was merely the beginning of the problem.

During the fight Gomm heard sounds similar to frog-like croaking. Except it sounded much deeper and voluminous.

And now he spotted a dozen or so floating gold orbs looking at him from pitch black darkness. Some of them would disappear and then reappear in split second.

“I think we should get into the trap room and lock the doors behind us!”

“I think so too!”

The party scrambled in, making sure to stay clear of the grooves which indicate where the scythes fly. Gomm the Wiser had shredded parts of his rope in order to have some fine particles they can breath into the air to detect the fine strings. And it worked!

The adventurers worked their way through the trap room, into the room where they crushed a bunch of centipedes coming out of a smart-ass-box with “Curiosity killed the cat” inscription. On they went into the room Basso has been dreaming of for the last few weeks.

After a little bit of investigation, the party decided to open the stone coffer. Lid functioned the same way as in the previous chamber, meaning it had a thin groove running around the top. The widening was just enough one can put in their fingers and grab it.

Brent stood to the side as Basso, Llyfed, Derennan, and Gomm opened the coffer.

They chucked lid to the side.


Nine perfectly polished balls.

Nine large, 30 inch circumference balls.

Nine shiny, silvery balls.

Nine damn heavy balls.

The party loaded them up, bending under the weight, and set off for Hara.

It took them twice the usual time to get back.

Willowind 7th, Waterday

“Yes, these seem like globes of pure silver. You could probably get between 500 and 2000 gold coins for each.”

It was difficult to say which balls were bigger: the adventurers' eyes, or the orbs resting on the jeweller's workbench.

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Character Class Description
Rashomon Elf level 2 A dangerous looking elf.
Lyffed Elf level 1 Thin and balding elf whom also happens to be Rashomon's friend.
Basso Halfling level 1 A stable boy whom got tired of shovelling horse shit.
Gwendin Cleric level 1 A follower of Bondor, god of swords, carrying a sacred silver scimitar.


Character Class Description
Hagar the Hewer Dwarf level 1 Imagine Conan as dwarf.
Rangar the Bull Fighter level 1 Titanic, dark-skinned figure wearing bull-headed helmet and a harness with countless weapons strapped to it.

Blackmoon 4th, Fireday

Two weeks.

That's how long it took Rashomon to recover from his ordeal.




He barely escaped being sold into slavery—much due to Lyffed's quick thinking and silver tongue.

Also due to Lyffed's clumsy walking, which landed him in pit trap just in time to avoid Rashomon's captors.

“We ought to head back and pick up the rest of Golding's treasure.”

Alas, they couldn't find any of the men they adventured with in the last few months they've been in Hara.

So they resorted to recruiting Basso, a halfling whom had arrived to Hara from Antil couple of days ago, and Gwendin, a plain looking heavy-set lady wielding a silver scimitar.

The quarter reached the ruined tower by noon.

They immediately dove right back in, moving with great speed.

“Stop. This isn't as it was.”

Surprised that things in dungeons change, especially if there has been two weeks since they visited it, the party stopped to observe weird footprint sized puddles.

They were in the room with the secret passage leading into Golding's lair. The wet footprints were between north-east doors, the one with the pit trap, and open secret passageway. Calling them footprints isn't really correct, for they were more like a chaotic arrangement of small, foul smelling puddles.

“Stop. I can hear something.”

The party flanked the secret tunnel and listened.

“Bah, give me the leg, the leg, the juicy leg!”

“No, it should be fermented first!”

Gwendin could understand the primitive grunts.


“Pssst. How many can you hear?”

“Three to five voices...”

“Cover that torch. We shall surprise them.”

The elves led the charge, with halfling and cleric immediately behind them.

Three goblins were crouching around rotting corpses of thugs Rashomon and Lyffed left behind on the previous visit.

The quartet immediately downed one.

“No, I don' wanna dieeeeeeeee!” cried the other whilst running against the wall.

“Augh! Ouch!” yelled the third as he pretended to die slowly. He threw himself dramatically to the ground, and smeared some offal on his face.

Alas, the count was wrong.

A number of arrows and javelins came at the party from the darkness. Even worse, the elves could hear ritualistic chanting from afar.

“Let me take the front!” Basso moved in, switching with one of the elves just in time to get hit with a vial of acid. From the goblin pretending to be dead, nonetheless.

“No, I wanna liveeeeee!” the wall-huger cried as Gwendin killed him with pebbles.

A cone of flame illuminated the chamber, burning Lyffed. The source was goblin with wild eyes and necklace made of bones. He wielded a primitive staff topped with humanoid skull, and sported an unfashionable satchel fashioned of human skin.

Despite their overwhelming numbers, the goblin party was quickly subdued with a combination of arcane trickery—Sleep, twice—and indiscriminate violence. Two fled for their lives, crying like snivelling buffoons.

Frisking the corpses yielded impressive 49 copper pieces, a parchment of human skin with pseudo-arcane scribbles, and a leather satchel.

The elves noticed something that would cause lesser man much more cause for concern. Many of the corpses were missing. And those that were still here were badly mangled, defaced, and gnawed. By something that had much bigger jaws than these pathetic goblins.

“We should retreat back to Hara. We are too injured to continue.”

And so they did.

Blackmoon 10th, Spiritday

Judging they lack the “proper” muscle, party resorted to hiring two hulks: Hagar the Hewer, Conan-like dwarf they knew from before, and Rangar the Bull, a mountain of a man strapped with ridiculous amount of weapons.

They arrived back to the dungeon around noon, and like before, dove right back in.

The puddles were larger than before! Human corpses were now completely gone, and there were only a few goblin corpses left. Ignoring that, the party pressed on through the secret chamber and into the corridor where Rashomon and Lyffed tricked the thugs guarding the sleeping chamber.

There was no one there. No guards, no nothing.

Party moved south, going into the chamber where Golding and his retinue slept. The chamber where they killed Belak the Dwarf.

Improvised desk in south-east corner was demolished. Two chests it rested lied broken open, devoid of any valuables. “Hawk waz hir” was gauged in the wood panel that served as the tabletop.


Belak was decaying. His face, eyes, tongue, and jaw were missing.

“Check the south doors, maybe?”


“Let me try.” Rashomon pushed forward, sporting an iron key he had recovered from Golding's corpse.

“It fits!”

And empty chamber, thirty by thirty feet.

Completely plain.

Not even decorations like in all the other chambers.

Closed doors were visible on the other side of the room.

“Uh-huh, this is a trap.”

Hagar grabbed Belak's corpse and threw it ten feet into the room.


The corpse fell down in two chunks.

Something flew out eastwards from the south wall; too fast to be observed by human eye.

“See, the groove, very thin, but groove all the same!”

Even elves had to squint to observe the subtle groove running full circumference of the room.



The sound interrupted the party's discussion on what to do next.

“Allow me.”

Rangar the Bull stepped forward and smacked the floor with his greatsword.

Ultrasonic scythe, or whatever that thing was, broke Rangar's sword before he even managed to hit the ground. It sent the tip flying until it bounced right off the smooth wall and fell down to the ground with a clang.

“I'm quite sure we have some time before the trap resets. Come!”

“Stop, another groove!”

This one was running from north to south wall, splitting the room in half.


Hagar picked up Belak's half and threw it on the groove. The half got halved.

“Quickly, move!”

“Damn, another groove...”

This time it ran from east to west wall, similarly to the one they encounter when entering the room.

“I'll take care of it...”

Alas, a quarter of Belak was not enough to trigger the trap.

“What now?”

“We have to get out, we are standing in the middle of a death trap!”

The party discussed for so long they forgot some of them were standing dangerously close to the groove. Basso nearly paid for that mistake with his life.

“Here! Can't you see it?!”

Rashomon and Lyffed spotted a nearly invisible gossamer thread running over the groove at roughly shin height.

“That must be the trigger!”

No matter how they tried, neither humans, nor halfling, nor dwarf could see it.

“Well, are you willing to put your theory to test?”

The elves jumped over.

Nothing happened.

“You see? Come on!”

Soon everyone jumped over and moved into the room beyond the easily openable doors.

There a wide chamber prostrated itself to the adventurers.

A round dais stood in the center, atop which a stone cube rested. They were surrounded with columns that were decorated with shapes of straight, sharp lines. Think rectangles, squares, triangles, and similar.

“Gwendin, you have gift for languages. There is something on top of this stone cube.”

“I'll take a look.”

She approached gingerly, avoiding touching anything.

Rest of the party spread out, searching for traps, secret doors and passageways.

Despite her amazing gift of languages, the cleric struggled to decipher the text.

“Eleven... shiny... gifts...”

Judging ambush to be unlikely, due to the trap room behind them, the party gave Gwendin plenty of time to work on the text.

“Eleven shiny gifts for the curious. Or something like that. That is all I can make of it.”

Hagar, being a dwarf, could appreciate how masterfully the stone cube was made. Joints were invisible, surfaces nearly perfect, and lid almost invisible. In fact, the lid was flush with the top. A depression barely an inch wide ran the whole circumference of the lid. It looked few inches deep. Just enough to push your fingers in.

The dwarf ran an iron spike around it. Nothing ill came to life. In doing so he found that each side of the cube had two more depression, on the inner side of the groove. If one were to push in the hands, then these horizontal holes would be perfect for fingers. Perfect to get a good grip and lift the lid. Too perfect.

The lid seemed impressively heavy.

“Come bull boy, help me out.”

Hagar took the north-east corner of the cuber, and Rangar took the south-west corner. Hagar pushed his right hand into the north groove, and left hand into the east groove. Rangar pushed his left hand into west groove, and right hand into south groove.

They nodded to each other, tensed their grips, and begun lifting the lid.

Oh the power!

Oh how their muscles bulged!

Oh how their foreheads rained sweat!

Oh how countless giant insects crawled out, following their muscular arms!

Oh how they bit them!

Oh how they injected their venoms!

Oh how Rangar fell to the ground!

Oh how he got to suffer each and every bite without being able to scream!

Oh how Hagar crushed all the giant vermin on him!

Oh how Gwendin fell victim to the insects!

Oh how Rashomon saved the day once again by casting Sleep!

Rangar and Gwendin were still alive, but too weak to move. They could only—barely—breathe.

“I still want to see what is inside...”

The party move two immobile members against the east wall.

Hagar again manned two sides, while Basso and Lyffed each had to take one side. Rashomon stood, ready to crush any more vermin coming out.

A giant centipede tried to poke out. It was cleaved in half.


The disappointment was audible.

“There is some text on the bottom.”

“Gwendin isn't in shape to study it...”

“Why don't you cast your Read Languages, so it is useful at least once?”

Lyffed proceeded to do so.

“Just as I feared. Whomever made this is mocking us.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” read the text on the bottom of the stone coffer.

“Close it.”

“How do we exit? We can't carry them over the trap?”

“Why don't we check the south-east doors?”


“Try the key?”

“It fits!”

“Oh no...”

Smaller room, dominated with an elevated round dais in the center, atop which a stone cylinder was resting. It was flanked with four columns, each decorated with curvy lines.

They entered, locked the doors behind them, placed two downed member in the corner, and decided to rest. It's difficult to track time underground, but dwarf knew they rest for approximately half an hour.

“Something is here!”

“Look, it's the same mechanism as the secret passageway we found under the staircase.”

“Let's open it and see where it goes!”

“I recognise this room! Ahead will be another room, and then the room with swinging pendulums. From there we can quickly reach the exit!”

“Let's go!”

The mobile quartet split in two duos, each carrying one immobile member. They moved out with great speed.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?”

They heard just as they exited the broken dome leading into the dungeon under the ruined tower.

The man speaking was of respectable stature; dressed in chain mail, with shield and hand-axe. A crude drawing of hawk adorned his shield.

Alas, the party was surprised.

“Adventurers, by the look of it!” another man in chain shirt chimed in, mockery dripping from his foul mouth.

“What?! In MY dungeon? Surely that isn't possible!”

“Cheeky, yes, cheeky.”

“And look at them, all beat up. Look, these two can't even stand on their own.”

“Even worse, look, what a freak show. Elves, dwarves, halflings...”


“Now, since this is your first infringement, we will let you go easy. First you will hand over anything you have found in our dungeon. Second, you will pay... you will pay... erm...”


“Yes! You will pay ONE HUNDRED GOLD COINS!”

There were three more men with them, one in chain, two in leather.

Basso put down Gwendin gently, and then put his arms in a friendly gesture “Ah you must be the great Hawk. We have heard much of you. We already have left you tribute my friend you see we left two wooden chests for you after killing the owner of them.”

Rashomon and Lyffed recognised the two talkers: the bigger one is Hawkwerth, and the older one is Oldham; both late Gildree's former retainers.

“You-you did that?!” Oldham stammered.

“Calm your tits!” Hawkwerth whispered to him, and then blurted out “We would've killed them ourselves! But we have big brains so we let evil adventurers kill each other!

Once we were down and there was a group of adventurers so stupid they ran into the pendulum trap! Ha! And they had to flee from some bugs! But not us. We nicely positioned ourselves and led the bugs to their deaths.

“So you better don't mess with us!”

“Actually, we do know you.” said Rashomon calmly. “If you really insist on a fight, we can do to you worse than we did to Gildree. You're better off going down and scavenging what we left after killing Golden and his gang. We're done here.”

Hagar cracked his knuckles, bringing out the pythons.

Hawk and his gang just stood there, dumbly.

Basso put up his hands calmly “Everyone here calm down. Just think for a moment here. If we fight you might get one of our injured fellas but after that we outnumber and kill ye. The simple thing here is we just both go our own way and mind our business.”

“Why, you little–”

“Calm down Hawk, calm down.”

Oldham stopped Hawkwerth from coming at Basso, pulling him away.

“You freaks will hear more of us! Travelling circus!”

“Step out of our way if you know what's good for you. We can each go on our way or we can have our fight. I assure you that our four healthy colleagues can do more to you five than you can begin to imagine.” Lyffed spoke menacingly.

Hawk kept throwing insults while Oldham pushed him away. There was enough room for party to exit the dome. Basso and picked up Gwendin and slowly walked by the agitators. Hagar helped Rangar, while Rashomon and Lyffed watched the thugs with unfriendly smiles on their faces. They pushed past them, ready for a fight.

“Yeah, just you flee! I better not see you in Hara! Clowns!” Hawk yelled, choking on his own spit.

Rashomon smiled right back at him.

Hawk flipped them off and then led his party into the dungeon.

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

#Wilderlands #SessionReport

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Character Class Description
Rashomon Elf level 2 A dangerous looking elf.
Lyffed Elf level 1 Thin and balding elf whom also happens to be Rashomon's friend.
Brent Goose Cleric level 4 An eccentric, but charismatic, cleric seeking the Holy Bird. White robes and black cloak conceal his tall, frail and anemic frame. His eagle-like nose is exposed for all to see.
Hedwig Hogwarts Elf level 2 An always alert owl masquerading as an elf.

Goodgrove 10th, Spiritday

“The quicker you move, the likelier it is your friends live.” Lanithdir quipped to Lyffed with a stone face.

Having been defeated by a band of men under the ruined tower, the latter was stripped of his armour and weapons. He arranged to ransom himself and his friends in exchange for four gold chains.

The proverbial clock was ticking.

Unknown time

Brent Goose witnessed the group that just vanquished his party lift his colleagues that have been put to sleep.

The dwarven duo looked as if they were ready to stomp Rashomon to death, but were stopped by Golding.

“He is worth more alive. Just like that one over there. Arantal, do your thing.”

“Yes, Master.”

Arantal was the man in plate mail, the one who subdued Marston with a single strike. He motioned and other men take Brent's retainers. Surprisingly, Brent, on the other hand, was allowed to walk free by his side.

“Now, Cleric, tell me more about your God.”

“Kadrim is Everywhere but no where. He is many and also one. He is the calm , he is chaos, He holds dominion over the smallest and gentlest creatures on this earth. He brings abundance to all and will take abundance from all. Anger him and a lone bird will turn into two, then many. His sword will cover the sky and block the sun. In a swoop of his sword he cover the world in white.”

Brent gingerly pulled out a statuette of small bird and then cast Light on, as he was reciting.

“He is also merciful and brings hope and salvation when one is at their lowest. He flies on the wings of Fear and Hope. That is Kadrim.”

He was thank for his lecture, and then asked to heal some of them. The cleric diagnosed them with ailments and made “cures” from various plants, vegetables, and fruits. He claimed that their bodies were creating toxins and that they need a juice cleanse. He would cast Cure Light Wounds only after they take their supplements.

Rancid smell of urine and body odours violently awakes Rashomon. He was seated on the floor, with both of his arms manacled to the wall behind him.

The manacles have obviously been forcefully pinned to the walls, because they do not match them in any way. A piece of cloth was tied around his mouth.

Six more persons were in the same predicament around the elf: Marston's and Brent's retainers, as well as Hedwiga. There was no sight of Lyffed, Marston, or Brent.

The prison was roughly 30 by 10 feet. Voices could be heard from an archway to Rashomon's left.

Giving himself some time to come back to his senses before proceeding was a good choice. Once fully aware of his surroundings, Rashomon broke his manacles with little effort. He took his time to make sure he was as quiet as possible.

Once free, he moved to awake and free Hedwiga. Then they freed the rest. The manacles were indeed too weak to hold back these two elven specimen.

Finally, Rashomon crawled to the archway, and listened attentively. He was surprised to recognise one of the voices!

It must've been Brent's, for there was talk of birds and what not.

Rashomon gripped a rusty iron piton, bidding his time, waiting for a chance to charge out.

Marston slowly opened his eyes.

It was so cold it hurt his skin...

Then he realised he was completely naked...

And that his hands were chained to the ground.

There were two candles, each few inches away from his palms.

A man dressed in golden robes appeared from the darkness.

“You are now prisoner of Golding.”

“Tell me three things I did not know before.”

“First time you tell me something I knew, I will tear apart your spell book. Which is by the way, horribly thin.”

“Second time you tell me something I knew, I will have both of your palms removed.”

“Third time you tell me something I knew, I will have your tongue removed.”

Another man, dressed in chain shirt, appeared with a small, golden bell.

He placed it between Marston's knees.

“Ring the bell when you have my answers.”

Marston did his best to keep his cool. He spoke as confidently as he could.

“Is there any topic in particular you desire? I’m quite a knowledgeable fellow so something to keep me focused will do me well. I can do anything from the nature of our universe to mere riddles, though I know some good riddles.”

“Oh, I'm so glad you ask so politely. I'm very curious to learn about new treasures, artifacts of great power, and political intrigue. A good riddle is always welcome, as well. But be warned, if I answer correctly you will suffer the consequences.”

Marston sits still in thought for a minute before his eyes light up like he thought of something.

“Very well, if it’s all the same to you I will start with a riddle of my own devise if you think you are prepared!”

He cleared his throat and spoke in a smug tone.

“What am I?”

“I keep you alive and yet I’m despised.”

“Men are renowned for disregarding me, but secretly everyone has me.”

“I could keep going, but that would be an insult to a man of your great intellect, though if you need a hint let know.”

Golding smiled and giggled sinisterly.

“Ha! An easy one! It is fear that keeps men alive; only fools and dead men disregard it; and even the stoutest of heroes carry it in their hearts!”

Marston looked absolutely shocked for a solid few seconds. Once he regained his composure, he blurted out “DOUBLE OR NOTHING!!!”

He continued stammering “Uhhh, if I win win it counts as one and you don’t burn my book if you win then you burn my book and I give you a piece of valuable info that doesn’t count towards my 3 things!”

Golding laughs as Marston bumbled and mumbled. Then he motioned to the armored man next to him. The man produced the captive's spell book from a sack.

The robed man took it, and begun tearing out pages, one by one. He crumpled each and threw it at Marston.

“Oh, don't despair. If your spells are as good as your riddles, then nothing of value has been lost.”

Marston slumped, deflated. He observed Golding for a moment, seeking any info that would be useful. The man wore gold robes embroidered with unfamiliar teal symbols. A golden pendant hung around his neck, and three rings (two on right, one on left) adorned his fingers.

Barely breaking the silence, Marston asked “What God do you worship?”

“Whichever serves my purpose at the moment.”

“So you are godless? How am I supposed to know you will honor your word if I succeed if you haven’t sworn to anyone?”

“You can't.” Golding answered with a big, shit-eating grin.

“Ha, I guess what did I expect... OK another riddle then.”

“What is sweeter than honey and worth more than gold But can never be captured or so I’ve been told? For to do so would kill it, that’s what they say All those who live it, in their own way.”

“Are you mocking my intellect, young man?!”

“Freedom is the answer; although as your chains attest, it can be captured very much.”

“Further, its worth can be very well appraised in gold. As a matter of fact, your elven friend is dashing to Hara to fetch gold chains to buy your freedom!”

“Such a helpful fellow he is, completely unaware I'll profit on you twice.”

“If you plan on making any profit off me I can’t recommend slicing my palms. A damaged merchandise is less valuable, especially slaves that can’t use their hands.”

“What kind of a man would I be if I don't uphold my threat? Have I not made the terms clear enough?”

“The kind of man that loses out on money for an arbitrary reason!”

Golding rubbed his rings, thinking.

Marston leaned in a bit and spoke in whisper.

“You know if you want to make some real money it would be in your interest to keep me alive and unharmed as I still have one thing to tell you.”

“I'm listening.”

“I have gathered over my many travels near 2000 gold coins as well as a magic sword that I would value as being worth several times that. If you were to sneak me out of here and take me to Hara you could have it all to yourself.”

“Well, how about we wait for your elf friend to return and then we can send him back to Hara to fetch those as well?”

“Ha to split that with your friends would be to turn a small fortune into mere change! You will never get anywhere with that attitude. And besides you would have to bring me since only I can unseal the Wizard Lock I have placed.”

Goodgrove 11th, Airday

“Tell me, fellow Elf, why do you follow orders of these evil men?”


“If it is just that, couldn't we make you a better deal?”

“Do you think you are in position to do so?”

“Well, do you want to spend more time camping underground, in a dungeon? It doesn't look like you are too happy about it.”

“Thirty gold coins per day and full share of treasure.”

“You have my word as an elf of Law.”

“What now?”

“First tell me more about Golding and others, and then we can figure it out.”

Lanithdir the Cheap, divulged the following:

“Golding is the leader of Chaotic party of adventurers. They've laired here for the last two weeks because he is convinced there is some sort of unholy artefact deeper underground.”

“Belak and Thur, two dwarves, act as his bodyguards. They are competent warriors. Ashburton, the Thief, is a leader of a dozen of bandits. They've been subjugated by us, and forced to obey. They aren't happy about it, but are too afraid of Golding to act.”

“Arantal, Forester, and Gerrard are clerics of Harmakhis, some barbarian death deity. They joined a few weeks ago, also seeking something here.”

“No one really trusts anyone, but everyone fears Golding.”

“How about you take me in, pretending I'm your prisoner, and we free the rest.”

“Yes. Follow me.”

The conspiring duo passed the secret doors from whence Lyffed and his party were surprised from the last time.

They entered into a rectangular chamber, some fifty by thirty feet. Five figures squatted around a bucket in the center of the room. A lantern illuminated their sour faces. They were throwing dice in silence.

Lanithdir yanked Lyffed, and walked past them men, hugging the north wall.

“Where to?” a man suddenly grabbed Lanithdir's biceps.

“Mind your own business, knave.” the elf retorted, setting himself free.

The man scowled, but otherwise remained quiet.

Lyffed could see there was an archway leading south, into a dark chamber. He followed Lanithdir through doors in north-west corner, then through turning corridors—passing another doors and group of men—until reaching reinforced doors.

“This is where most of us sleeps, including Golding.” Lanithdir whispered to Lyffed in elven.

Opening the doors revealed yet another spacious chamber, although with a strong musk of body odours. Eight or so bedrolls were in the central area of the room.

A dwarf stood by one, untying his armour. A spear and a shield lay next to him.

Lanithdir suddenly pivoted and slapped Lyffed as hard as he could. The latter had read the former's intentions so he sold the slap hard, cusping his face and dropping down.

“Follow me, cur!”

Lanithdir grabbed the slapped elf and pushed him westwards, towards doors. The dwarf was quiet, but started at both intensely.

Once they passed the doors, they slammed them shut behind. This was another rectangular room, of similar proportions to previous chambers. The men sitting by the east wall barely acknowledged the elves, focusing instead on a man telling them facts about small birds.

Lyffed recognised Brent.

The cleric sat with his backs against the wall. Across him sat Arantal, weapon by his hip and shield on the ground. To his left and right were Forester and Gerrard, each with their weapon and shield on the ground. All were armoured.

“Let's jump the closest one.” Lyffed whispered in elven.

Walking straight, maintaining their “prisoner” act, the duo marched behind Arantal.

“You treacherous mutt!” the cleric of death roared as Lanithdir pummelled him. Lyffed stepped on Gerrard's weapon and yelled at Brent to do something.

“Hold in the name of Kadrim!”

Forester and Gerrard froze in place, unable to even wink.

“You shall die a thousand deaths!” Arantal overpowered Lanithdir, throwing him down to the ground like he was nothing but a child's toy. Then he stomped on his knee, breaking it. Finally, he crushed his head into a bloody pulp with a war hammer.

“Death, death will come to all of you!” he bellowed as Rashomon and other prisoners charged from around the corner, wielding rusty pitons as their improvised weapons of choice.

He fought them all off—except Lyffed, whom had picked up Gerrard's mace. A backhand swing to the back of Arantal's neck plate was the killing blow.

“Quick, all our equipment is in these barrels. Get your stuff and get out!”

“Where is Marston?!”

“I don't know, I haven't seen him!”

“We have to keep the momentum. Let's charge in and overpower the dwarf.”

Unsurprised, the dwarf jumped out of his bed roll, grabbed the spear and shield, and charged the assailants. He spat as he spoke in unfamiliar language. Despite deflecting most of the blows, he too soon succumbed. It was Lyffed once again, but this time with a sword. He delivered a straight jab into the throat, followed by a tear to the right, ripping right through the neck.

Backtracking, the party went into the corridor where there were guards in the norther portion.

“Who goes there?”

“No one. You are sleepy. Go back to your post.” Brent replied.

“Oh, OK...” and the guard left.

“Stop messing around, we have to get out.”

“But what about Marston? We have to find him...”

“Wait, I'll go talk to those guards...”

Lyffed approached the guard post with confidence.

“What's this! Is this how you keep watch? By squatting in a dead-end corridor?!”

Three poorly dressed thugs jumped up.

“Well, no one passed by us, so I'd say we are doing a good job!”

“Where is the last prisoner bought in here?”

“How the hell do we know who is the last prisoner?! It's not like we count them? As far as I know everyone is kept in your chamber!”

“And what is beyond these doors you guard?”

“Our resting place... Why are you asking all these questions–”

“Silence! Have you seen a young man, a wizard, maybe?”

“Listen, I don't know what sick game you are playing, but the only other place I know would be Golding's play room. But I ain't going there!”

“Fine. Keep watch.”

Lyffed returned to the party and briefed them on new developments.

“There was a door we passed by in the room with the dwarf. There was also an archway that I passed by when entering...”

“We should go straight out, maybe we encounter Marston on the way?”

Brent Goose walked straight into the room where five thugs were playing dice. They all looked at him. He turned around and closed the doors.

“What was that for?”

Rashomon, Hedwiga, Lyffed, and Brent charged back in, only to be peppered with burning oil flasks. Luckily, none of the lobbed ones broke on impact.

Lyffed delivered an overhand slash through the bone to their leader, killing him with a single blow. Rashomon took down another one with a point blank shot. Toucan, Brent's follower, shot down yet another one. Hedwiga brutally decapitated the fourth one, followed by cleaving headless corpse in half. The fifth bandit fled through the south archway, yelling.

The party followed.

A naked Marston stood in the center of the room, illuminated with few candles. He was manhandled by a dwarf, whom had him basically restrained.

“Stop if you want your friend to live!”

“We heard that before!”

Hedwiga, Rashomon, and Lyffed moved into the dark chamber, but alas, they were to slow. The dwarf lifted Marston, whom did his best to resist, and threw him forward.

Marston landed on a perfectly carved feminine bottom. He extended forward his arms, to soften the landing. As soon as his palms landed on the stone cold, majestic butt-cheeks, a click could be heard.

Young wizard's screams filled the room, as he staggered back, both of his hands cleanly cut off. He collapsed to the ground in fetal position, crying and screaming for help.

Goose stepped forward, loosing his footing and stunning himself in the process. Hedwiga and Lyffed charged the dwarf. Rashomon concentrated. He could hear Golding chanting arcane words in the darkness. He calmed his breathing. He tensed the bow. He made his choice. He released the tension.

“Augh!” could be heard from the south-west corner.

The dwarf was swinging an iron staff with great proficiency. He bonked Hedwiga on multiple occasions.

“Catch him!”

Golding ran right past the party, and into the chamber where five thugs used to watch guard. Rashomon and Lyffed pursued him, as well as Brent's followers. The fleeing bastard was taken down with arrows and sling stones. He soiled his robes, making them more golden in the process.

Hedwiga and dwarf duked it out, exchanging many blows. Brent, having regained his composure, walked in like a boss, and then smacked the dwarf dead, just like he was playing whack-a-mole.

“Marston, are you OK?”

Marston lied there, pale, having been ignored by the party for the last minute and a half. The boy had bled to death.

“Oh no!”

“Let's frisk the corpses.”

“Should we go back to their sleeping chamber? There was a desk with two chests there?”

“We can return after we've healed. Come on, let's get out!”

Everyone but Marston reached Hara by the end of Goodgrove 12th.

They were exhausted.

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Character Class Description
Marston Dangon Magic-User level 1 A tall man engulfed by large cloak with broad, stuffed shoulder pads. Hundreds of sewn fireflies make his cloak look alive.
Darrad Cleric level 1 A cleric of Pernatem, God of Sculptures, is a well sculpted man himself with long brow beard, slicked dark hair, and imposing frame.
Rashomon Elf level 2 A dangerous looking elf.
Lyffed Elf level 1 Thin and balding elf whom also happens to be Rashomon's friend.
Brent Goose Cleric level 4 An eccentric, but charismatic, cleric seeking the Holy Bird. White robes and black cloak conceal his tall, frail and anemic frame. His eagle-like nose is exposed for all to see.
Hedwig Hogwarts Elf level 2 An always alert owl masquerading as an elf.

Goodgrove 10th, Airday

“We should go back to that tower.”

“Yeah, it was full of treasure.”

No, this is not a déjà vu. The adventurers decided to repeat what they did a week or so ago—and so they did.

Marston Dangon, and his two new starry-eyed students Rhys and Starisa; Darrad; Rashomon and Lyffed; Hedwiga; and Brent Goose with his three acolytes, Tou Cansam, Daisy, and Della.

The party set out the day before. With the days now being shorter due to change in seasons, it took them slightly longer to get to the ruined tower.

Adventuring entrepreneurs entered the tower around noon.

“Where to?”

“How about we check the trapped doors?”

Hitting the pressure plate next to east doors hadn't activated the arrows that stuck elves in the back during one of the previous expeditions.

Opening the doors had proven to be a trivial matter. A new chamber laid before them, fifty by thirty feet. Empty, devoid of any valuables! But wait, there were another doors in the south-west corner.

Failing to find any traps, one brave member swung them open. Lo and behold! Another fifty by thirty room, but this time with a spectacular sight.

Thirty feet long and twenty feet high frame holding a shiny golden sheet stared straight back at the salivating entrepreneurs.

“Wait. This might be a trap.”

Darrad tensed his sling and unleashed a stone at the sheet.



Golden sheet violently erupted, spewing forth unimaginable amount of gold-yellow dust, consuming the room.


Peeking around the corner only revealed that the cloud penetrated the chamber. One would have to enter it in order to close the room.


“Huh, where to now?”

“How about we go through the secret passageway and check out that place where we ran into our former retainers?”

“Oh yeah, those bastards need to pay.”

A few moments later...

“Bah, there is nothing here except urine and some leftovers. They also defaced some of the walls.”


“Let's head further north.”

Bypassing the pendulum traps with ease, the party moved into the chamber with three doors. Last time they fled through west doors, but this time they went through the northern ones.

Another thirty by thirty foot chamber, barren, with nothing but an archway leading east. There, another perplexing barren chamber, with doors in the north-west corner and heavy, steel portcullis in the north-east corner.

Not even the combined strength of Hedwiga, Darrad, and Rashomon could budge it.

“What do you see beyond the grates?”

“Nothing, just a corridor...”

“Let's try the doors.”

They opened with surprising ease, revealing a sharp turn to the right. Just a few feet on, the corridor twisted left. Peeking around the corner, the adventurers could see an impressive bust poking out of the west wall.

The elves edged closer to it. It was a statue of a veiled woman, covering her lips with both palms The statue was from hips and up; the lower portion wasn't present—as if the woman was reaching out from the wall.

Darrad studied the statue with great interest. He marvelled at the quality of its makes, especially all the life-like details. Lyffed observed letter-like marking on the statue's forearms. Since he inferred they must be in some unfamiliar language, he decided to cast Read Languages.

“KISS ME” said the left forearm.

“GENTLY” said the right forearm.

Lyffed fixed himself, stood straight in front of the statue, and leaned in for the kiss. Mere moments before he delivered the goods, he noticed smaller lettering on the statue's collarbone.


He quickly jumped off and abandoned his plans.

The statue was at a T-shaped junction splitting north and east. The latter led into the corridor with the previously encountered portcullis—but it was raised! The north led them to another archway adorned with raised portcullis.

Pressing on, the party ventured into yet another rectangular chamber with little but doors in the north-east corner. Brent Goose and his followers hugged the south wall; the rest dispersed throughout chamber, scanning it for secret doors, valuables, or any other hints.

Darrad listened at doors but heard nothing. Lyffed came to his aid.

As soon as the elf joined him by the doors, the floor gave in, and they both disappeared. Marston witnessed them falling through the rotating panel, which immediately closed after the duo.

A loud clang echoed.

Lyffed heard yet another sound; a loud crunch.

Darrad lied lifelessly right next to the elf.

“Quick, we need to get the rope!”

“Where are they?!”

“They were right by the doors! It must've been a pit trap!”

“Quick, tie a rope around my waste and I'll try to activate it with my weight!”

Just as the party was discussing their rescue plan, Marston felt a subtle change in the air. Then he picked up a slight breeze as well as sound of scrapping stone coming from behind.


But it was no rolling stone.

It was them.

Two dwarves and two humans right behind them.

“How dare you disturb Golding the Impatient's lair!”

“Well, how dare you disturb us!”

Rashomon did his magic, casting magical Sleep on the would-be surprisers. The humans fell, but dwarves still stood.

“How dare you cast spells at us!”

Two sleeping humans were dragged into the darkness, while the dwarven duo counter-charged Hedwiga.

In the ensuing skirmish two more humans charged out of the dark corridor, one reinforcing the dwarves against ferocious Hedwiga, the other going for Marston.

The latter one was dressed in plate, had a magnificently looking shield, as well as appropriately matching mace. He grabbed Marston and manhandled him like a ragdoll.

“Drop your weapons or I'll smash his head into a bloody pulp!” he roared.

“No!” Brent retorted, and orders his goslings to shoot him with their slings. Alas! All missed, and Della even managed to drop her sling!

Rashomon cast another Sleep spell—for he was wise enough to prepare it twice for this expedition—this time solely targeting the dwarves.

“Friends, let's stop this violence.”

An elf walked out of the dark corridor, speaking in elvish to Rashomon and Hedwiga.

“I suggest you drop your weapons.”

“And if we don't?”

“We will kill you!”

“Forget the dwarves, kill those that are still standing!”

Hedwiga, ignoring a single man still attacking her, cast Charm on the man whom has pinned Marston to the ground. Just as she did so, she herself was overcome with great need to lay down. And so she did.

Just like Rashomon.

And Rhys.

And Starisa.

Five more men came out of the dark corridor. They quickly woke the dwarven duo.

“Drop your weapons, or we will kill all your friends.”

Brent turned to his followers and ordered them to comply.

“Drop them. Yes, you heard me right, drop them.”


Not even a minute passed since Lyffed fell into that damn hole. He could hear clang again, and then light blinded him as the ceiling rotated open.

It was not Rashomon or Marston or Brent whom came to save him.

It was them.

Two unknown dwarves and one unknown elf. The former had really sour faces. The latter was as featureless as the chambers they've traversed. They threw him the rope with a word.

Lyffed climbed up.

Oh, what a sight greeted him.

All of his colleagues, except Brent and his followers, laid on the floor, sleeping like babies. Their hands were tied and their mouths gagged. Brent's “acolytes” were similarly treated.

Brent, on the other hand, was untied and ungagged. Heavily armoured man stood next to him, observing intently.

“I'm Golding the Impatient. You have intruded into my territory.” a tall man in gold robes politely, but firmly, introduced himself to Lyffed.

“As I can see, you have obviously bested my friends. Listen, is there a way we could ransom ourselves?”

“I'm a business man first and foremost. I'm listening.”

“I could offer you a gold chain for our lives. It is worth at least 1400 gold coins!”

“Don't mock me elf. I can get more for you and that cleric over there by selling you into slavery. You'll have to offer more.”

“How about four gold chains?”

“Hmmm. Tell me more.” Golding encouraged the elf whilst stroking his chin.

“We have four large gold chains, just stashed in Hara. I can fetch them and bring them back for our lives.”

“You have five days. For each day you are late, I'll slit one your friends' throat.” then he turned to the stony faced elf “Lanithdir, escort him to Hara and back.”

“I will see to it, Master.”

Lyffed was stripped off his armour, weapons, and all other valuables.

“Walk.” the elf prodded another elf.

Lyffed and Lanithdir exited the tower.

It was still noon.

And by the looks of it, it was going to be a long, long day.

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Character Class Description
Marston Dangon Magic-User level 1 A tall man engulfed by large cloak with broad, stuffed shoulder pads. Hundreds of sewn fireflies make his cloak look alive.
Darrad Cleric level 1 A cleric of Pernatem, God of Sculptures, is a well sculpted man himself with long brow beard, slicked dark hair, and imposing frame.
Brent Goose Cleric level 4 An eccentric, but charismatic, cleric seeking the Holy Bird. White robes and black cloak conceal his tall, frail and anemic frame. His eagle-like nose is exposed for all to see.
Hedwig Hogwarts Elf level 2 An always alert owl masquerading as an elf.

Goodgrove 1st, Airday

“We should go back to that tower.”

“Yeah, it was full of treasure.”

Having rested for a week, some of the adventurers were itching for a new adventure.

Brent Goose spent his time proselytising, telling stories about great heroes and great cities and how Kadrim aided them with small birds. The God of Small Birds is very well known for granting boons in form of small gestures that made great impacts.

Gestures such as going silent to warn travelers/hunters of dangers and spreading food and abundance through the winds along with spirits of the wind. The cleric leveraged his affinity towards birds, as well as Speak with Animals spell to have them gather around him and chirp in unison as he built small birds nests.

Not by accident, Brent preached in the most well off parts of Hara. Oh, and has it paid off handsomely.

His sermons attracted more and more people. Whomever disturbed was shooed away by the guards—they too were captivated with Brent's displays of piety and good nature.

On the fourth day of his procession, a young woman came to him and kisses his hand. She was utterly bedazzled with the cleric's divinity. Her name was Sara Pilter, fourth daughter of Mihajlo Pilter, the head of Pilter family.

“Pick a spot preacher, pick it, and we shall build a grand fountain there! With bird nests, and benches, so people can gather around you and hear the wise words of Kadrim!”

Edimus Gorgon spent his week gathering rumours at the Partihouse, the palace of vile debauchery. This is what he learned: “We heard yo mamma is so ugly you worship Pernatem just so you could sculpt something that doesn't look like a mix of a boar and a whale!” What happened next is best left unwritten.

Marston the Humble sought an apprentice, that'd ideally work for free. He picked the most trafficked spot—after all, he deserves the grandest audience—the main market square. Of course, we will gloss over the fact they are captive audience, since most of them are there to do work.

The wizard told fantastic stories of his great arcane exploits and powers. Once he judged he gathered a group of respectable size, he finished his story by throwing a stone into the air and blasting it with a Magic Missile.

At least that's the story he tells. The locals will tell you of a guy in oversized robe throwing pebble at people and then hitting the Temple of Forsetti with a glowing orb. He was promptly chased away by the clerics and angry crowd.

Now, Marston's display wasn't for naught. A young man with the constitution of an adult brick approached the wizard, seeking to teach him “magik.” His name was Rockhill. Marston bought him a sword and plate mail, scrapped arcane-looking symbols on them, and convinced his new apprentice they are enchanted.

“Master, this does not look like a Wizard's staff?”

“My young apprentice, you must be able to swing a sword before you may sling a spell. Besides that is the blade of Resolute Fortune, a very powerful enchanted blade I created myself.”

“You may keep your excellent wand and use it when I deem you worthy of learning sorcery but for now please stick to the sword.” The wand being a club owned by Rockhill.

Tangay Of The Seven Stars, the new headmasters of Hara's wizard guild, grudgingly allowed Rashomon and Lyffed access to the Guild's arcane library and workshop. Using obscene amounts of gold, a well known lubricant, Rashomon also convinced the man to teach him the Sleep spell.

The female owlelf Hedwig spent her week mapping and exploring Hara. She created a detailed map and marked all the locales. It's important to say that she hasn't seen all of them in person, in fact, most were based on what people had told her.

Either way, a decision had been made to revisit the ruined tower to extract more of its treasure. The adventuring party consisted of:

  • Marston Dangon, his wardog Danny, and his apprentice Rockhill.
  • Darrad, a newly recruited cleric of Pernatem. Nearly as brickish as Rockhill.
  • Brent Goose, and a hand-picked follower he had named Scuttle Dinglehopper.
  • Hedwig Hogwarts, eager to return to the tower once more.

The party had reached the tower by the end of the day. They made camp, shared some stories, and slept firmly.

Goodgrove 2nd, Waterday

Down they went with the first rays of sun.

“Let's explore that secret passageway.”

Following it led into a large chamber, fifty by fifty feet. Hedwig hugged the walls as she moved around.

“Hey, I've seen what happened to that other guys last week!”

There was nothing of interest in this room, besides an arched exit on the north side. Now that passage opened up in a more interesting chamber. This one was a rectangular room fifty feet wide and thirty feet deep.

Two lines of fluted columns ran along the full width of the chamber. Two huge iron pendulums were slowly swinging from side to side. There were three doors: in south-west corner, north-west corner, and north-east corner. Brent and Scuttle watched guard by the archway while others examined the chamber with pendulums.

Although big and obviously heavy, the swinging weights were easy to avoid with proper timing. Darrad heard human-like voices coming from the south-west doors. Naturally, the party lined up by the doors and went it.

Except they didn't.

The doors didn't budge.

The voices stopped.

“We come in peace.”

“What do you want?”

“Who are you?”

“We are resting here.”

“Please don't hurt us.”

“We won't if you don't hurt us.”



At that moment Scuttle turned to his master, point at three gigantic boring beetles rolling out of the darkness. Marston sent in Danny and fired of a magic missile. He also sent forth Rockhill, “to cast a Magic Missile up close.” Other warriors formed a line.

One of the beetles bit Danny in half. The dog's whelps were brief. Aforementioned line of warriors dissolved with great haste as they all retreated into the pendulum swinging room.

“Go for the north doors! Go!”

Iron balls might've been too slow for the adventurers, but they sure weren't for the beetles. Alas, they seemed to simply bounce off of each hit. Rockhill tripped, and one of the giant insects penetrated his lower regions.

“Ouch! Master, it hurts! Master, please save me with your great magik! Master!”

The last thing he witnessed in his troubled life was his Master fleeing through the north doors, shutting them behind him.

Party found themselves in a thirty by thirty chamber. Closest doors were to their left. Behind them a corridor turning into a T-shaped junction. A chest on an plinth to their right, another twisting corridor to their left.

“Na-uh, that's trapped.”

“I know.”

Marston and Darrad left behind to play with the chest. The rest moved on, exploring the labyrinthine corridors for several hundred feet.

“Cast Knock on it.”

“Like this?”

Darrad hit the lock with his trusted weapon. Several times. That did the trick. Then he grabbed a maroon- and emerald-coloured silk pouches. The duo rushed to reconnect with others.


Scuttle Dinglehopper just got speared into the stomach by a blue goblinoid creature with oversized head and ridiculous unibrow.

“Will... will the birds carry my soul to the Great After?” the boy uttered with his last breath. The answer was drowned out by sounds of battle as the adventurers massacred four cobalt-blue creatures.

Hedwig decapitated one with her two-handed sword, two were burned to death by Marston, and last one was caught in the Hedwig & Brent murder combo.

“We should head back.”

Brent Goose gingerly picked up the corpse of his follower, and carried it for the remainder of his time in the dungeon. Good followers deserve proper burial rites; not to be left to rot in a long abandoned place.

The party followed another corridor, taking an educated guess it might loop back into the camber with pendulums. And they were right!

What they did not expect to see are Hawkwerth and Oldham the Stormy, and two other unfamiliar men.

Three giant beetle corpses were now in the room, two of them obviously crushed to death by pendulums. The remaining one was full of arrows. Yes, the men they just ran into were sporting short-bows, and were standing just by the south-west doors.

“What are you doing here?”

“What?! Cleaning up your mess!”

“Uh, this wasn't us.”

“No?! How many people do you exactly think pass though here?!”

“OK, it might've been us.”

“Now, look what happened! They interrupted our rest!”

“Hey, how about this coin for your troubles...”

The party had exited the dungeon uninterrupted.

Brent found a solemn place to bury Scuttle. Little birds sung a beautiful, melancholic melody.

“Would you like me to say a few words for Rockhill, as well?”

“Who? OOOH! I forgot about him!”

“Never mind then.”

The party reached Hara by mid-day of Goodgrove 3rd, Earthday.

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Character Class Description
Gildree Elf level 1 Expat from far away land with a permanent scowl. Attempts to integrate with locals by carrying halberd and blood-red plate mail adorned with little skull motifs.
Rashomon Elf level 1 A dangerous looking elf.
Lyffed Elf level 1 Thin and balding elf whom also happens to be Rashomon's friend.
Brent Goose Cleric level 3 An eccentric, but charismatic, cleric seeking the Holy Bird. White robes and black cloak conceal his tall, frail and anemic frame. His eagle-like nose is exposed for all to see.
Hedwig Hogwarts Elf level 2 An always alert owl masquerading as an elf.

Harvestime 10th, Spiritday

Another gorgeous, sunny day in the Barbarian Altanis. Our group of merry adventurers, now reinforced with Hedwig Hogwarts, an elf with huge, owl-like eyes, and equally owl-like, messy hair.

The party had been staying at the Circled Star inn, the best and most luxurious place that welcomes wary travellers in Hara. Full of coin, they could afford the exuberant price of five gold pieces per day.

Either way, few of the members laid low—no, they were enterprising, undertaking various downtime activities whilst preparing their next expedition.

Brent Goose built a small shrine to Kadrim and continued his public sermons. He was rewarded with the following vision:

Four small robbed creatures dance in a circle. One wears white robe, the other wear brown robes. They dance faster and faster and faster until they suddenly stop. The white one open his robe—revealing to be some unholy mix of standing dog, rat, and reptile—and takes out a crumpled roll of parchment. Others gather around it and marvel at the drawing of wings made from wood and metal. The white robed creature points to lines next to it and points further up the mountain. Then it looks you straight into the eyes and hisses! You wake up, surrounded by your followers, all eager to hear what vision Kadrim sent to you.

Eon joined the Fighter's Guild, and invested 77% of all his money into an amazing investment opportunity. Now all he has to do is wait two weeks to get three times his investment back. No risk!

Marston went seeking for new war dog to buy, but lo and behold, he ran into Danny, his old war dog. Yes, he was a bit scruffy and without leather harness, but healthy otherwise. Gildree sought work, and found work. Questionable disposal of two bodies in a house in a dark alleyway. There he found a bruised and cut corpse of half-naked dwarf as well female halfling. Gildree chopped them up and then dissolved their remains using the liquid given to him by his patron. Work is work, and 500 gold pieces is one heavy sack. He did the job, no questions asked, and was paid, no questions asked.

Two elven buddies, Rashomon and Lyffed, hit the regular taverns, listening attentively. Lyffed did most of the heavy work, since Rashomon's comments mostly either landed flat or outright insulting.

Whilst at the Dancing Wolf tavern, they over-heard six tough-looking men boasting of their recent success plundering “a dangerous dungeon underneath a ruined tower.”

Luckily, they were “too tough and too smart” to fall for all the traps laid within. With few well delivered compliments, several rounds of drinks, and open-ended questions, the elves weaselled out that this ruined tower should be ten miles south-west of Hara.

On the morning of this very day, the party consisting of Gildree—with his two retainers, Hawkwerth and Oldham—Rashomon, Lyffed, Brent Goose, and Hedwig Hogwarts set out to find that tower. And all the riches that lurk underneath it.

Harvestime 12th, Waterday

Finally! By the second daylight watch of the third day, the party had found an eighty feet tall ruined tower. What once was an impressive cylinder of white marble was now nothing but a dilapidated tower full of gaping wounds. Large, ornate door frames stood there, door-less, exposing the tower's insides.

Closer inspection of the tower from the outside revealed two curiosities. First, the damage seemed to be cause by siege engines or something of similar power. Second, the damage seemed to be primarily caused from the inside.

“Let's go in.”

Insides again pointed at tower's once glorious shape. The floor was perfectly smooth stone. Were it not for the rubble from the smashed ceiling, it would be a wonder to marvel at. The insides were completely illuminated by the sunlight coming in through the non-existent roof.

A dome of smooth, gray stone dominated the inside of the tower. Circling it, the party had found large stone doors. Closed, of course. Two strong members got to it, and soon they were opened doors. Just like the tower, this dome also had a broken top. There was little of interest there besides staircase leading into the darkness.

Rashomon took the lead.

The spiral staircase went on, and on, and on. The stairs, like walls, were of exceptional quality. They were incredibly smooth, with well-hidden joints. Finally, after half-an hour of descent, the party entered a round chamber with fifty foot diameter. Four fluted columns spanned the whole height of the chamber. There were doors to the north and west. Both were framed with ornamental decorations. Writing in unknown language adorned the top of both doors.

“Finally a use for Read Languages spell!” Rashomon and Lyffed approached the west door. Once the latter had cast his spell, the symbols and letters started moving around like earthworms, until they made sense.

“Door” the text said.


The duo stepped forward to listen. First then felt elevation change, then they felt arrows lodging in their backs. Luckily for them, only one manage to penetrate the armour and do some damage.

Gildree quickly compared the text above the north doors to the one just deciphered by Lyffed. They were identical.

“Very helpful!”

Hedwig the Owl notices something was off with the mural at the base of radial staircase down which they came. There was a large decorative section that looked like a frame—but nothing was framed! And it didn't look like something was moved...

“I press it with the tip of my sword.” Hedwig announced.


“Ha-ha, I press it with my palm then.” Hedwig followed.

The framed area depressed, and then gave in under Hedwig's relentless push. A dark, narrow passageway opened up before them.

“I go in!” Hedwig shared.

Like the surroundings, the passage was well made as well. But it had no decorations, no embellishments, nothing. Well, not nothing.

Few steps in the owl-elf's eyes widened as a silver urn, a golden urn, and four skeletal heads, each wearing a chunky gold necklace, entered his sight.

Hedwig gingerly touched one of the necklaces with the tip of his sword. Nothing happened. Rashomon joined in behind him. Hedwig took one necklace. Nothing happened. Then Rashomon took one. Nothing happened. Then Hedwig took the other two necklaces, as well as two urns. Then he heard a sound of stone scrapping against stone, followed by child-like giggle. And then both him and Rashomon nearly perished from a repeated volley of darts and stones flying at them from the darkness to their left.

“Out, get out!”

Some tried to shoot into the darkness, but with little success. Rashomon summoned an orb of purple light and hurled it down the corridor. Magic missile illuminated the secret passageway as it flew forward, revealing a horde of shin-sized humanoids. Its landing was announces with one of the small human's violent explosion. Blood and gore covered its allies, and their child-like giggles were replaced with high-pitched growls.

“Step aside!”

An burning oil flask was lobbed where the magic missile just landed. A hit! Screams of terror and cries of desperation supplanted high-pitched growls. The party was victorious. Hedwig and Rashomon were nearly dead.

“Should we head out? Look at all this treasure—that's pure profit, right there!”

“No, let's check one more room.”

“Where to, then?”

“Not the trapped doors, that's sure.”

“How about we go down the secret passage?”

“No, they might wait for us in ambush.”

“North door, then?”

“Sure. When I listened at them I haven't heard anything.”

“Let's go.”

Hedwig and Brent Goose staid behind, watching the passageway which they've just plundered. Rest of the party forced the doors open and entered a fifty by fifty foot chamber.

Twelve fluted columns formed a square pattern, essentially splitting the chamber into outer and inner square. Gildree marched on, flanked by Hawkwerth, and followed by Lyffed. Wounded Rashomon was the last, keeping an eye for any would-be ambushers.

Alas, that did not help him notice the floor giving in under the weight of four of them. The last thing Gildree witnessed in his life was perfectly polished stone floor. Hawkwerth and Lyffed suffered minor injuries. Rashomon, on the other hand, had a near death experience. He survived, but was now so badly injured— several broken bones and ribs at bare minimum—he required assistance even to move.

“Has anyone brought rope?”


In a flash of brilliance, Oldham came up with a simple plan. The pit the four adventurers fell in was merely ten feet deep. If they pass him Gildree's polearm, then he could extend it as far as possible and hold it tight, while others climb out one by one. And indeed, that's what the victims agreed to.

But there was one little complication. Rashomon couldn't really move on his own. Nothing to worry about, though! Hawkwerth and Lyffed properly manhandled him until the elf was out of the pit. Not before Lyffed noticed a bunch of small hands coming out of the walls! The hands tapped over all the adventurers, stealing gold coins wherever they could find them! And then they vanished.

Unlike Gildree's corpse, which was left to rot in the pit.

“Voices from above!”

“Quick, hide around the corner!”

“Extinguish those torches!”

Brent Goose heard a number of masculine voices descending from above, down the same staircase they cometh from. The party retreated into the room with the pit. They pressed against the south wall, and patiently waited.

The voices got louder. They were definitely in the round chamber. No one understood the language they spoke. Based on the volume, there could be anywhere between five or twelve of them. Finally, Lyffed took a big breath, stepped around the corner, and introduced himself.

Four well armed and armoured dwarves immediately turned to him.

“Who goes there?!” one of them asked in Lawful, waving his battleaxe at the elf.

“A party of adventurers. We are on our way out. Be careful, there are many traps here!”

Pleasantries were briefly exchanged. The dwarves came down here to investigate the construction, for they were really curious after seeing the tower. They were all quite impressed with the build quality, and might even spend some time mapping the place. They also managed to lob few poorly concealed jabs at the party.

“Who would expect a place like this to be unguarded and untrapped! Inconceivable!”

The party retreated out of the ruined tower, and marched straight back to Hara. Since they were hauling treasure, as well as badly injured elf, it took them three days to return.

Their first stops were money changers—all coin entering Hara must be reported, else it is confiscated—and then the jeweller. Gold urn held 200 gold pieces, while silver urn held 200 silver pieces. Four gold chains were each worth 1400 gold pieces. The party held onto significant wealth even after paying the tax and service fees.

It was a good expedition. For everybody except Gildree.

What next?

Will they return to the ruined tower?

Or seek fortune elsewhere?

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Character Class Description
Gildree Elf level 1 Expat from far away land with a permanent scowl. Attempts to integrate with locals by carrying halberd and blood-red plate mail adorned with little skull motifs.
Marston Dangon Magic-user level 1 A tall man engulfed by large cloak with broad, stuffed shoulder pads. Hundreds of sewn fireflies make his cloak look alive.
Rashomon Elf level 1 A dangerous looking elf.
Lyffed Elf level 1 Thin and balding elf whom also happens to be Rashomon's friend.
Ripos Wildcheeks Halfling level 3 A halfling of style as attested by his loose fitting white blouse, silky cravat, and red cap.
Brent Goose Cleric level 3 An eccentric, but charismatic, cleric seeking the Holy Bird. White robes and black cloak conceal his tall, frail and anemic frame. His eagle-like nose is exposed for all to see.

Thistleburn 14th, Fireday

“Drop your weapons now, scum!”

Four armed man stared down Lyffed, whom had just scaled the rungs out of the underground tunnels leading into the cellar of the haunted house.

The elf politely declined, grabbed the rope, and rappelled back down. Just in time to witness a magnificently fashionable halfling emerge from a cloud of flour. That and six armed men fighting Rashomon, Gildree, and Marston.

A brutal skirmish ensued.

Rashomon the Death Dealer killed three of the armed thugs, and forced one to commit suicide. Gildree cleaved one in half. Wildcheeks perished within first ten seconds; he went down after being stabbed twice by a gluten intolerant thug.

Another unexpected ally appeared in a cloud of goose feathers! It was a cleric of Kadrim, The God of Small birds. He chirped and cheered in the background, as the party hacked their opposition to pieces.

Lyffed wasn't very successful with his attack. Heck, he couldn't even hack a dazed opponent. In fact, the man in question managed to defend himself. Upon coming back to his senses, he judged he'd be better off by fleeing into the dark tunnels. So he did.

Two more thugs descended down the rungs, only to be cornered by the superior might of these adventurers. To make it even worse, their “friends” above locked the trapdoor, getting them stuck with these murder-inclined people. Hence, they dropped their weapons and pleaded for mercy.

“Who do you serve and what are you looking for here?”

Rashomon went straight for the business. Marston took the stage and begun a loud monologue how he is the absolutely best mage. In the Wilderlands. Brent Goose cheered him on. Gildree frisked the corpses.

After a little bit of encouragement, the captive revealed they are mere swords-for-hire in the service of Klekless Racoba. The latter has been paying “small men the size of grown male's shin” to spy on all the merchant families, as well as queen's residence. He'd use that information to plunder the richest caravans.

Satisfied with the information, as well as the map they had recovered, the party decided to head back and report everything to the castellan.

Only one small issue.

Their only way out was locked. And what if more of these men were just waiting for them?

Well, Gildree The Brave and Strong scaled the rungs, and started bashing the jammed trapdoor. It took him a mere hour to get through. Much to the delight of elves below who threw casual insults like jabs.


No one greeted them upstairs. The party huddled, quickly navigated the streets of Hara to rejoin with members who took a day of rest—Eon, Helmuth, and Edimus—and then went straight to the citadel.

“The castellan will see you when he has time.”

Naturally, they had to wait until sundown.

“The name you mentioned. Are you sure that's the person whom you want to accuse as the main perpetrator?”

“Yes, Klekless Racoba. Our prisoners can corroborate our story.”

Two tied men nodded.

“Klekless is the headmaster of the Mage's Guild. And these are serious accusations. I'll ask you to stay in Hara until we confirm your findings.”

The ask was, of course, and euphemism for command in this case.

“Now, if you will return me the signet rings. Yes, good, yes, all five of them. You will be rewarded as promised—your full weight in gold coins.”

Thistleburn 20th, Spiritday

Adventurers had to wait six days to hear the final verdict. Brent Goose spent his time proselytising, feeding birds, and earning himself a moniker of “bird lady.”

Gildree took a very low profile, spent his time in the citadel barracks, and being cautious of everything. Marston did the opposite. He went carousing, telling everyone what a great mage he is.

Rashomon and Lyffed retreated into Poseidon's temple to train and meditate. They also spent time in deep conversations with acolytes and clerics.

On the sixth day since their report, a man charged them in the street, yelling profanities. The man was tackled by the guards. “Another one of the scum taken! You–” the captain of the guards pointed at Rashomon “Yes, you! The castellan demands your presence at the citadel. Now.”

This time the party did not have to wait to be admitted. In fact, the castellan barely gave them any time whatsoever.

“You were correct. We have sealed the tunnels. Unfortunately, Klekless Racoba has fled the city. I'm sure you made a very powerful enemy. Either way, thank you for your services. You are most welcome to stay in Hara and spend your earned coin here.”

The man left before they had much to ask—and seemingly ignored whatever else might've been pointed at him.

“What now?”

“Let's hit the streets and taverns!”

Harvestime 5th, Spiritday

Brent Goose continued his sermons in the streets of Hara. Lo and behold! He attracted ten followers! The worshipping circle of Kadrim grows! True holy leader he is, he crashed at his worshipper's place and consumed their food and drinks.

Rashomon, Lyffed, and Gildree spent their days at the Fighter's guild. Little interesting work was offered. Their efforts to recruit new members resulted in Gildree picking up a fistfight with wannabe-tough guy. The elf knocked out some of his teeth just for a good measure.

And how about Marston. Well, he continued boasting about his importance and success in busting this “spy ring that troubled the castellan for years!” The result? The Grand Wizard was kidnapped after one of his escapades, dragged into a windowless room, and interrogated about his true involvement with the spy ring.

How he got out of their grip alive is a bit unclear. Marston, of course, would tell you how he blasted them with his amazing powers.

“They melted before my very eyes, not even a one percent of my true power!”

The sun was up. People were in good mood. And our adventurers were getting bored.

That's never a good sign for the locals.

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

#Wilderlands #SessionReport

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Character Class Description
Harker Fighter level 1 Top heavy hunk with skinny legs, wielding a massive great-axe with rose-motifs.
Rashomon Elf level 1 A dangerous looking elf.


Character Class Description
Gildree Elf level 1 Expat from far away land with a permanent scowl. Attempts to integrate with locals by carrying halberd and blood-red plate mail adorned with little skull motifs.
Hagar the Hewer Dwarf level 1 Imagine Conan as dwarf.

A bit later...

Character Class Description
Marston Dangon Magic-user level 1 A tall man engulfed by large cloak with broad, stuffed shoulder pads. Hundreds of sewn fireflies make his cloak look alive.
Lyffed Elf level 1 Thin and balding elf whom also happens to be Rashomon's friend.

Thistleburn 13th, Earthday

“Let's get the wounded out, recruit some more muscle and return.”

Rashomon proposed.


Harker replied.

Having left Eon, Edimus, and Helmut in the care of talented acolytes of Poseidon, the enterprising duo ran into two equally enterprising adventurers.

One was Hagar, a savage, extremely muscled dwarf. Heck, the former ironsmith couldn't hide all the bulging muscles even if his life depended on it.

Another man, or rather elf, was a real eye sore on the streets of Hara. He had the face of a person who disapproves of everything and everyone around him. His blood-red armour covered with little skulls did not make him any more approachable. Gildree was all he said.

Both Hagar and Gildree were delighted at the prospect of earning some coin by exploring a cellar of haunted house.

“Then come and follow us!”

And so the new quartet was ready to descend down the ladders that hurt Eon so badly. The party improvised an anchor for the rope. Newcomers weren't really informed of the dangers, but were generously encouraged to rappel down first, nonetheless.

Luckily for all involved, no new traps were triggered.

The party found themselves in a simple thirty by forty feet chamber. Solid-looking wooden doors were to the west, and dark passageway to north-east. The latter led into a long, dark corridor stretching to the left.

“Hmmm, I could hear a yawning sound behind the doors.”

“Let's ignore and move on.”

“But what if it is a monster and we get ambushed from behind?”

“Let's ambush it first!”

And so the party arranged themselves around the door, prepared to cut down whatever might lurk behind.



A large, mean-looking mastiff starred down the wanna-be-ambushers, looking very unsurprised. The attackers rushed forward, finding themselves surrounded by four large canines.

One jumped on Harker, clawing and biting relentlessly. The young man fell down to the ground. The mastiff mauled him unconscious. At the same time, other two dogs took down Hagar, despite the dwarf's bulging muscles. In fact, he might've even lost some in the process...

“Uh, it looks a bit grim!”

Gildree unleashed his violence, leaping over the bodies of his fallen allies. He speared one of the dogs straight through the heart. Rashomon disemboweled the dog that dared charge him.

“You did your best, kid.” was the last thing Harker heard as the mastiff bit off his throat.

The two remaining elves fought for their lives, mopping up the surviving dogs.

“Hmmm... Let's get the wounded out, recruit some more muscle and return.”

Rashomon said.


Gildree asked, pointing at stiff Harker with gaping wound on his throat, and Hagar's tattered remains.

“The dwarf is still breathing.”

“For now.”

“Won't we look suspicious dragging two corpses through the streets?”

“Hmmm... You are right. Let's make it look like we are distressed and they need healing.”

“Grand plan.”

And so the two elves dragged two mangled bodies to the Temple of Poseidon.

“My good elf, you were here merely an hour ago. Who are these new people that require our assistance? And I'm sorry to say, but that young man looks like beyond saving.”

It didn't matter what the acolytes had to say, for Rashomon flashed the ring given to him by Hara's castellan, and the acolytes had to obey.

“Done. Now let's recruit few more talents like yourself Gildree.”

Lo and behold! Rashomon just happened to run into Lyfeed, an elven warrior priest from the same land as himself. It didn't take a lot of persuading to get him to join. Some details might have been omitted.

Like attract like. A tall man dressed in ominous looking cloak adorned with hundreds of fireflies approached the party. He was flanked by a stacked rottweiler responding to “Danny.”

“Marston Dangon, wizard looking for adventure.”

“Well, you found it!”

The new quarter returned to the cellar of the haunted house just as sun started to set.

“What happened here?”

“Nothing much. Few dogs lying in ambush. We easily dispatched them.”


“Well, myself and the previous party.”

“Ahh, I see.”

The canine corpses were the only interesting thing in this, otherwise bare, chamber.

Moving down the dark corridor, the party encountered another sharp turn as well as closed doors. Peeking through revealed another small chamber—this time devoid of large mastiffs.

A simple table and four chairs were by the west wall. Four empty cups and small casket of wine rested on the table. A large lever on the south wall was set in the “up” position. The party carefully pushed it into “down” position using a pole.

Nothing happened.

Following the corridor they reached yet another hard turn. And then another. This time there were bloated doors opposite the corridor. One of the member gently broke through, sending them flying into a chamber full of debris. Offensive smell of rot and dampness assailed their nostrils.

“Screw this, let's move on.”

After half an hour or so of walking down the corridor the party encountered yet another hard turn. The corridors were mostly ten feet wide and some seven feet high. They were simple hewed affairs. Sometimes they'd run into pools of stale water. Some wall portions were damp.

Lighting torch after torch, the party moved down the corridors without rest. They ignored all the narrow passageways, opting to stick with the broader ones.

Unbeknownst to them, hours and hours passed.


Indeed, they finally ran into something that wasn't a long, wet corridor.

“Can't hear anything...”


“Open gently!”


Another successful gentle opening, as attested by broken doors lying flat on the ground.

The party entered into a large fifty by thirty foot room. Another doors were on in the middle of north wall, two smaller doors were in the south-west and south-east corners respectively, and an open archway in the middle of south wall.

A long table dominated the room. It was surrounded by nineteen chairs. A large, fifteen by ten foot map dominated the west wall. Rashomon recognised what it was a map of—Hara.

Many buildings had weird symbols on them: circles, crosses, check marks, dots, and similar.

“Let's pack the map and get out. I'm sure castellan will appreciate this.”

All other doors didn't budge as well. Forcing the north doors open revealed yet another long corridors. Smaller door in the south-east corner on the other hand led revealed a small chamber.

A crude bed in the southeast corner, a shelf holding an unlit candle on the south wall, and a small closed chest on the floor in the northeast corner were all there is to it. It was the most lavish room they have encountered so far!

The party poured in, dreaming of treasure. Gildree opened the chest with a pole. A cloud of purple gas filled the room, dropping Rashomon and Marston.

“Oh, nice!”

Gildree recovered fifteen obsidian gems and seven rock crystals from the chest. Lyffed poked the prone bodies. They did not react. Listening closely, he could hear both were still breathing.

The duo closed the doors of the small chamber, and holed there until Rashomon and Marston awoke from their magical slumber.

Thistleburn 14th, Fireday

“I think now is really the time to go back!”


“But which way? We passed miles and miles of these twisting corridors...”

“Don't worry, for I have been mapping as we went!”

And thanks to Rashomon's fine notes, the party managed to find their way back to the chamber with ladders leading into the haunted house.

Lyffed scaled the rungs. No traps were activated in the process.

The elf was greeted by a number of sharp tips and scowling faces.

“Drop your weapons and slowly come out.”

Rashomon, Marston, and Gildree were engaged in banter, not paying close attention to what's happening above.

Suddenly the doors behind their back flung open, and six figures poured out.

“Drop your weapons, scum!”

“Do you know who I am!” Marston demanded “The mightiest mage you have ever met!”

“Are you mightier than Klekless Racoba?!” one of the armed men yelled back, unfazed.


“Drop your weapons now, scum!”

“Look how they butchered mu puppies! Let me gut them all!” a cracked voice could be heard in the background.

Lyffed prepared to grab the rope and rappel down in the chamber, unaware of the fact his friends have just been surprised.

Rashomon prepared his Magic Missile, Gildree tensed his halberd, and Marston still wondered who the hell is Klekless Racoba.

Will Rashomon have to recruit new adventurers after this encounter?

Or will this encounter spell the end of his worries?

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

#Wilderlands #SessionReport

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