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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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Character Class Description
Harker Fighter level 1 Top heavy hunk with skinny legs, wielding a massive great-axe with rose-motifs.
Edimus Gorgon Cleric level 1 An elderly looking gentleman—despite his young age—dressed in long cape caked with dirt and grime. Worshipper of Pernatam, God of Sculptures.
Eon Fighter level 3 Silent and imposing tall, wiry ebony man adorned with plate mail, orange scarf, and necklace of skeletal finger.
Hellmuth Mithaft Fighter level 1 A bold mercenary with glorious red beard and pearly facial hair.
Rashomon Elf level 1 A dangerous looking elf.

Thistleburn 13th, Earthday

“How about we visit that spooky house at the north edge of the town?”

“The one by Assassins' Guild?”


“Sure, why not.”

A brisk walk, a bridge toll, and a loud nobleman later, the inquisitive quintet reached the dilapidated two story house that fit the description of various drunkards they've spoken with the previous day.

Most of the windows were caked with dirt and grime. Still, that did not prevent the party to circle it. They split up, and each individually tried to look like a casual local just going for a relaxing walk around supposedly haunted house in the shadiest part of the town. Nothing suspicious about that.

The entrance to the house was in the northwest corner of the building. The doors were broken off the hinges and were simply leaning onto the door frame. Two windows on the north side were caked with mud from the outside—it was impossible to see inside. Other windows revealed that insides are even worse looking than outsides. Dirt, dust, broken furniture, debris... you name it.

Following a brief discussion, the party set in motion their penetration plan. Rashomon and Edimus stood guard, inconspicuously of course, by the southwest corner. Harker, Eon, and Hellmuth subtly stormed the entrance hall of the building. Having found no opposition, they summoned the two guards to join them.

Since haunted houses are best explored individually, the party immediately split up.

Edimus followed the south corridor. He felt uneasiness as he approached the doors midway through. This was the entrance into the room with mud-stained windows...

Hellmuth returned the doors they gently removed from the frame. Eon added few iron spikes—a little trap for anyone trying to follow them from behind. Harker swept the floor, seeking who knows what.

Finally, Eon and Rashomon opened wide creaky double doors to the east. A decayed dinning room with a webbed skeleton in the northeast corner is what greeted them.

Edimus and Harker couldn't resist the call of the forbidden room, so they promptly entered. Alas, they were rewarded with few rotten books, parchments, and some candles. Harker did manage to recover a book of really bad poetry, though.

Hellmuth went further south, peeking into a room that was full of debris: broken bed frame, destroyed chairs, torn mattress and shredded cloths—all piled up by the south wall of the room. He could swear he could see some of the debris sliding on the floor. He moved on.

Eon and Rashomon, experienced adventurers they are, carefully approached the webbing.

“You know what this means?”





The treasure being two large spiders lunging from behind the skeleton, one above it and one beneath it. Both were dispatched in a single round. Both spiders, that is. Scanning the room revealed no other treasure. Adjacent kitchen, in even worse shape, had even less to offer.

As Edimus neared the room with debris that Hellmuth just passed, he felt sick to his stomach once again.

“Something isn't right.”

Flying furniture pieces confirmed that suspicion. Cleric and fighter avoided them all, and quickly alarmed the rest of the party of the invisible danger.

Eon and Rashomon, experienced adventurers they are, quickly brought the dinning table—with Hellmuth's assistance, to block off the passage towards the room that was catapulting debris at them.

“Oh, I had enough! I'll cleanse this evil myself!”

Harker—perhaps trying to appease the Oathkeeper—ran around, through adjacent room, and into the room with levitating furniture.

“I'll turn it myself!” Edimus enthusiastically announced and ran with him.

“This kids will get killed without me!” Rashomon sighed and ran with them as well.

Eon and Hellmuth kept their mouths shut as they tried to keep the doorway shut.

“Begone evil spi–uh, I forgot they stole my holy sy–”

Edimus's forgetfulness was awarded with a flying furniture piece hitting him straight into the forehead. That sent him screaming back whence he came from.

“Reveal yourself, apparition!” Harker demanded.

Rashomon jumped into the center of the room and sprinkled holy water all around.

“Can't you see it, boy? It's right next to your pointy friend.” a stern voice boomed in Harker's head.

And indeed! He could see a vague human shape juggling broken furniture pieces and various debris.

“Begone!” the boy yelled as he cut it down in half. All levitating objects fell down to the ground.

Eon and Hellmuth tackled the screaming cleric. They pinned him and helped him come back to his senses with an array of modern soothing methods.

“Let's move on. We aren't done yet.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hey, we haven't checked these doors yet.”

South-most doors on the west side led into a small room with solid workbench and an assortment of tools for carpentry. A set of stairs around the corner led into a damp cellar.

“We should see what's in the basement.”

“Could you wait until I make myself a wooden holy symbol? I'll saw a small cow.”

Two hours and few cuts latter, Edimus had something resembling a cow. Kind of. Finally, the party descended into the darkness.

The large chamber was damp and smelly. Rotted shelves lined the west wall. Two doors were on the east wall. The first were bloated and nailed shut from the outside. The second were as plain as walls of Hara.


There were a few benches in the alcove underneath the stairs. An orderly pile of firewood was arranged in the southeast corner. Both areas had significantly less dust.

By this time, Eon was getting impatient. He went for the bloated doors.

“That looks like someone tried to keep something inside. Perhaps we should start with other doors?”

So he opened the other doors, only to find what seemed to be a wine storage. Eight large barrels were neatly arranged in the southeast corner of the room. A dozen or so minutes later, the ebony warrior discovered a poorly concealed trapdoor. Iron handle was in a depression on the cover.

Unwilling to risk his fingers, the warrior jammed in an iron spike, and used the leverage to open the doors upwards. Stale air, dark hole, and rusty iron rungs descending into the darkness.

“Pass me the torch.”

Eon inhaled and went down.


Two scythes suddenly sprung and cut deep into his palms. Gritting his teeth, the warrior lost his grip, and fell into the darkness.

Rashomon was quick to react, and quickly scaled the ladder himself. He kept his blade out, just in case there were any other scythes to be triggered.


He picked up on the subtle sound just as he was about to step off the ladder. No scythes came out, but a chunk of debris fell from above. Although he managed to avoid some of it, the elf did not escape completely unscathed.

“Let me bind your wounds and then we'll get you out!”

When Eon fell down, his survival instincts kicked in and he immediately rolled to the side, seeking the safest spot to orient himself.

The ladder led into a dark chamber of hewn stone. A dark corridor was in northeast corner. Reinforced doors were in the northwest corner.

Rashomon tied a rope around Eon's waist, and then they pulled him up. The elf followed.

“Should we retreat, heal, and then return?”

“Whomever set these traps will know someone has been snooping around.”

“Maybe we should lay in ambush here?”

“How about we split? You go rest, while a few of us goes down to see what's there?”

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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.
Hellmuth Mithaft Fighter level 1 A bold mercenary with glorious red beard and pearly facial hair.
Eon Fighter level 3 Silent and imposing tall, wiry ebony man adorned with plate mail, orange scarf, and necklace of skeletal finger.
Edimus Gorgon Cleric level 1 An elderly looking gentleman—despite his young age—dressed in long cape caked with dirt and grime. Worshipper of Pernatam, God of Sculptures.

Thistleburn 10th, Spiritday

Two weeks of toiling everyday on bringing the Elder Temple, as well as Dontrap's small abbey, to their former glory.

Harker spent all his coin, and strained all his muscles, abiding the three voices from a giant two-handed sword he had recovered from the ruins of the Elder Temple.

Although the voices refuse to reveal their name, they did divulge that the sword's name is Oathkeeper.

Young and mighty warrior was now seen as an authority figure in the desolate thorp called Dontrap. Alas, that brought him nothing but more work in form of resolving petty squabbles between few inhabitants still living there.

But one thing became obvious to Harker: there just isn't enough manpower nor resources in Dontrap to restore either of the temples to their former glory.

“Oh mighty Paladins, may I venture into richer lands to find means to restore these amazing temples?”

“You may, as long as you keep your Oath. We will be watching.”

“My Lords, do you have an idea where should I go?”

“The Majestic City-State of Satur lies just several hundred miles south of here.”

“Uh, that's a bit far.”

Pantro, the local “merchant” reminded Harker of Hara, a trade hub just two days of brisk walking from Dontrap.

“Just follow the river Farhills downstream—you can't miss it!”

“Hara it is!”

And so did Harker recruit Rashomon, a drunk elf; Edimus, a brooding man of faith; Eon, an ebony slab of granite; and Hellmuth, an opportunistic mercenary.

The party of five set out from Dontrap with the first light of Thistleburn 10th, Spiritday.

Springing from the white peaks of the Madcat Mountain and Bludgeon Peak, river Farhills lazily rolls through the Midnight Goddess Hills, and spills into the bay south of Vigil Sound. Wide and calm, the party easily found it.


It was-mid day during Thistleburn, the hottest month of the year, with very little shade in sight.

“Up ahead...”

Around hundred or so yards up ahead a group of forearm-sized naked humans were frolicking at the river bank. They were of various different colours, and were having a jolly good time.

“Let's hide and observe.”

Voyeurism paid off, for the party got to count the number of creatures: two dozens. Most looked female or feminine, and were making little crowns of flowers and lilies by the river.

“Let's avoid them. In a wide berth.”

They avoided in the really wide berth.

And then they camped for the night.

Thistleburn 11th, Airday

“Get up, footsteps in the night!”

Eon kicked Hellmuth awake.

Rashomon, Edimus, and Harker were soon awake as well.

Just in time to hear a shout from the darkness:

“You are surrounded! Who are you and what is your business here!”

Opting for non-violent resolution methods, the party discovered they were travelling through territory safeguarded by Hara's forces. This specific patrol was headed Evert, whom was happy to escort the party to Hara for 60 gold coins.

All of the guards had the same shield: polished white body with cloudberry bordure. Bull sigil dominated the center.

The party spent the day trying to learn as much as possible about the region from Evert. Apparently he doesn't reside in Hara but castle just north-east from it. Tagoler is the commander, and is in charge of securing everything between the river, Midnight Goddess Hills and the bay. Their resources are strained, and they haven't had enough people to explore recent freaky reports from the hills.

Hara is ruled by the Omniscient Red Queen, Earani Cor. Haermond II serves as both Hara's castellan and general of the forces. Tagoler reports to him. In fact, he approves all expeditions as well, including those from mercenaries and adventuring parties.

Once again the party resorted to non-violent persuasion methods with great success. For a small bribe of one tiny agate Evert agreed to introduce the quintet to the Haermond II. Little did he know how much was he risking.

The party arrived to Hara by river barges by nightfall.

They were housed in the citadel barracks.

Two corpses were hanging in front of the citadel, stinking up the market square.

“Scoundrel of the worst kind. They came into our wonderful city, insulted our people, and then slit the throats of four guards. Good boys they were! Rest assured, we know how to deal with criminals.”

Thistleburn 12th, Waterday

“Lord of The Castle will meet you now.”

All five members were summoned in a spartan war room. Large table dominated the space, whilst regional and city map dominated the west wall.

Haermond II behaved and spoke as a person who has too much to get done to bother with cordiality for too long. He was dressed in simple but functional clothes. If it were not for an amazing ring with bulls signet and sword with lavishly decorated sword pommel, he could've been easily mistaken for a commoner.

“Hara thrives on trade. We have established a center of civilisation in the very heart of Barbarian Altanis. Everyone is envious of us and is working tirelessly to bring us ruin.”

“In the past few months we have had a sharp increase of caravan raids—both on the land and the sea. I'm sure we have a spy ring operating in the city!”

“Here is why I believe so. First, the raiders are always at the right place, even when we vary the route. Second, the raiders somehow seem to know which caravans are less guarded than the others. And third, they have avoided all the traps we have set up for them.”

“The situation is getting to a boiling point. Affluent families are accusing each other, myself, the Queen... I need a group of capable outsiders to get to the bottom of this. Somebody who is unknown to local figures of power, new and old.”

“Are you the right people?”

“Of course! Can you tell us a bit more... About... Uh... Payment?”

“As much gold coin as you can carry.”

“We are your people.”

“You have two weeks to solve this. Here are the rings with my personal sigil on them—show them to any guard or local business to be granted access and service. Break the law and your necks will be broken too. You have two weeks to sort this out.”

Haermond II spent a few more minutes answering the newly hired detectives' barrage of questions, until he had enough:

“You are smart guys. I'm sure you'll figure it out.” and with those parting words he left off to deal with even more important matters.

The party learned about three most affluent merchant families: Imraell, the oldest and wealthiest; Namelin, the ruthless; and Pilter; the young upstarts focused on entertainment. In castellan's opinion none of the families haven anything to gain by sabotaging each other, but hey, everything is possible these days.

“How should we tackle this?”

“Let's split and visit different places to ask around.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

Daddy Rashomon dolled out coins to poorer party members so they have enough to grease the locals. And off they went.

Harker went to the Black Eagle tavern, Hellmuth to the notorious Partihouse tavern, Eon to the Fighter's Guild, while Rashomon and Edimus visited Forsetti's temple.

Too much has transpired on these individual adventures for one scribe to capture, but we know that the party learned the following. An increase in raids led to mercenary prices sky-rocketing; each family has been accusing each other; Namelin family is quite litigious and has been suing everyone, including the castellan and Queen; there is a “spooky house” at the edge of the northern district; and the frequency of raids has been steadily increasing.

After a full day of intelligence gathering, the party had agreed to head to different inns, to hopefully overhear some rumours there as well.

Harker went for the luxurious Circled Star inn managed by a family of four dwarves. He was promptly kicked out after attempting to bargain. So he went to The Castle inn, and spent the night with Rashomon. Helmuth and Eon went to the Dragonslayer's inn, and had good time there.

Finally, Edimus went to the Night House, just to the right after you cross the bridge into the Northern district. He woke up without his holy symbol anywhere in sight. And then he had to pay the toll to cross the bridge. But he managed to meet up with the party at the market square just in time.

“We have nine days left. What shall we do?”

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Character Class Description
Ad'wi the Round Thief level 1 A genial dark skinned man, with a large round belly poking out from his blue waistcoat.
Salvatore Glowworm Magic-user level 1 Long black hair combed over a balding spot accentuates his thin moustache, both in service of his dreams of uncovering secrets of long lost kingdoms.
Boots Febalem Magic-user level 1 Shabby looking man of mystery. His tattered clothes reveal many scars.
Ripos Wildcheeks Halfling level 3 A halfling of style as attested by his loose fitting white blouse, silky cravat, and red cap.
Norwell Thief level 1 A finely dressed slim fellow of few words. Carries the scar of betrayal.

One summer day in Altanis

“Finally! Here it is!”

Hara, The Stronghold City of Alyrian Merchants. That's how those who live off of it call it in proud banter.

Hara, The Seat of Red Bitch. That's how those subjugated by it call it in whispering cowardice.

Hara, The Palace of Traitor Baroness. That's how the Altanians call it in roaring rage.

The party of five unlikely allies stood in front of the walled oasis of civilisation in the heart of Barbarian Altanis.

Ad'wi the Round, an agile bundle of charm with sticky fingers; Salvatore, a wizard in search of secrets; Boots, a magician accompanied by a hound he calls Flip; Ripos Wildcheeks, a halfling knight riding a mule; and Norwell, a master thief exiled from Antil for his antics.

The party queued to be granted passage into the walled city. Their names, as well as one gold coin per person, were collected. Or so some people say. Others, who don't like heroic tales but prefer gritty realism instead, claim that the party grovelled and begged because they were too poor to buy their entrance. One of them even pulled out a rotting finger of supposedly famous “Rhovar” and tried to use it as a bargaining currency! Whatever might be true, one thing is certain—the unsuspecting guards let the party in.

“Where shall we go to?”

“Maybe explore the city a bit? Follow the walls to the south and see what we discover?”

“We should find some work to do.”

“There is a money changer up ahead. How about we pop in and ask some questions.”

Obese Blob, protected by iron bars and two guards with halberds, politely explained that all coin entering into Hara must be reported to him. After he counts the coins, he will provide them a letter authorising their use in Hara. Of course, he will take 5% for tax—brilliant system designed to keep the city clean and safe!—and additional 5% for his service—brilliant system to keep his house clean and safe!

“Perhaps we could offer our assistance with... collecting?” Ad'wi offered with a grind and a wink.

“Ha ha ha!” Blob replied with a belly lough so loud even Ripos's mule recoiled. “I like your thinking boy! But tell me, do you have a licence for that? You need a licence for everything in Hara!”

“And where would I get such a licence?”

“Thieves' or Fighters' Professional Association, of course!”

“Of course!”

South the party went, scanning the buildings and peering through peoples' windows and doors like creeps. While standing at one T-shaped junction, a group of rowdy dwarves passing by noticed the halfling. One of the dwarves started pointing at Ripos, grabbing the attention of his dwarven friends.

“What?!” Ripos just flipped him a bird, while mounted on his majestic mule.

The dwarf in question burst into tears, bawling. Other dwarves tried to console him, whilst giving Ripos a mean look.

Salvatore and Boots noticed a symbol of silver flask on a large two-story dwelling. “That looks like the mark of Dyrantil, patron of alchemy. Shall we go in?”

Norwell joined them. Ad'wi stayed outside to polish the boots of passerbys. Ripos remained seated on his mule.

“Welcome. How may I help you?” an old woman greeted the trio in raspy voice. The place indeed looked like an alchemical workshop. After some back and forth the party had learned that the alchemist works for the queen, that she used to be an adventurer, and that she thinks very, very little of the local Wizard's Trade Association.

“Do you have any hooks for us?”

“I'm sure you can buy them at the market square.”

Being curious about the wizard tower, and having nothing but alchemist's description that it looks like “a stiff cock just like the stone-heads inside,” the party decided to ask around about it.

“Oh yes, it does look a bit like that. Although, I wouldn't dare to comment on the people inside! Go north until you run into a river. Then you should be able to see it.”

“And what is this large building of white marble next to us?”

“That's our Temple of Justice! All matters, big and small, get resolved here.”

“Let's check it out.”

Although morning, the temple was already bustling with activity. Many people were queuing, most likely to air their grievances or face trial. One trembling individual caught Ad'wi's attention.

“What troubles you young man?”

“I've been framed. Framed. How could I know? I was just protecting myself! The house is haunted! He just jumped on my blade! It is not my fault!”

“A haunted house? Tell us more about it... Maybe we could help you out!”

The man's eyes lit up and he jumped off the bench with elan.

“Cleric! Cleric!” he started yelling like a mad man, waving at one of the acolytes organising the crowd.

“What's happening here?!”

“He has proof that I am not mad! He will save me!”

“First, stop yelling or everybody goes on trial. Second, is that true?”

“No, this man is truly insane. You should, I don't know, hang him right now.”

“We have abandoned such barbaric ways long ago. First we have a trial. Then we quarter them.”

The party promptly left. Then they worked their way north, seeking the phallus of erudition. On their way the passed the Fighter's Guild, a bunch of residential dwellings, several craftsmen, the Dragon's Lair inn, and a Partihous.

Loud music and rowdy yelling could be heard from the Partihous, despite not even being noon. Ad'wi took a look behind the establishment, hoping to find some unconscious patrons. Alas, dried vomit and rancid pools was all that was.

A finely dressed woman ran into the party. She stopped the moment she saw this weird looking bunch. She covered her mouth. Her scowling faces of disapproval said more than any words she could've chosen. Few select words from Ad'wi did not land well with her at all, and she fled in terror.

“Good man, we are looking for a phallic tower that houses some wizards. Could you please point us in the right direction?”

The bearded man just had to point across the river. The tower looked just like the alchemist described it. The party approached it with speed.

“Here we are.”

“That's them! The barbarians!”

The party could hear a screeching voice behind them. A woman, whom Ad'wi immediately recognised, was marching with eight armoured and armed men towards them. The round thief winked to her, to the party, and disappeared into the alleyways.

Boots slipped into another alleyway, pretending to care for Flip. Rips dismounted his mule and hid behind it. Standing still. Norwell was overcome with deja-vu. Salvatore tried to talk to the guards.

“He is with them! He is with them!” the woman screamed.

“We'll take care of it now.” two guards tried to calm her. “You have to pay twelve gold coins for disturbing peace.”

“I have nothing to do with that man!”

Alas, the guards could not be persuaded. Again, depending on whose story you might be hearing, Salvatore was either misunderstood or very rebellious. The guards would say how he insulted them, Hara, their queen, their civilised ways. They had no other options but to apprehend him. The other guy, whose name they've already forgotten, was quite and collaborative. He was probably just an innocent passerby whom they picked up by accident. But the loud guy? They regret for not silencing him on time.

Either way, the guards escorted Salvatore and Norwell to the citadel by the great river Fairhills. Boots and Ripos followed them, looking for an opening to save their friends. And Ad'wi? He found some loose clothes and disguised himself into a large woman with a burqa.

Bustling market square, full of booths, stalls, merchants and locals sprawled in front of the citadel. Large double gates were open, and portcullis locked in upright position.

“Ripos, listen, I have a plan. If you can cause commotion, I can hide to the side and put some of the guards to sleep. Are you up for it?”

Heck, Boots didn't even have time to finish sharing his plan. Ripos already put a small sack with two little holes on his head, mounted the mule, and started causing wild ruckus in the middle of the square. The mule thrashed and thrashed, kicking stalls and people over.

Ad'wi charged round the citadel, as close to the river bank he could. There he realised that the prisoners were guided to a rowboat. A small island stood in the middle of the river. There was the main citadel, the palace, and one more large building.

“Not so loud now, eh?” one of the guards provoked Salvatore as they were rowing the boat. That was enough to get the magician ranting again. Norwell was quiet all the time, just sighing heavily.

A dozen or so guard came out of the citadel to check on the pandemonium taking place at the market square. Wildcheeks kicked over a baker's stall, so there were several flour clouds out and about, making the whole scene even more chaotic than it was. Boots performed the arcane ritual in as much secrecy as he could. Most of the guards dropped to the ground—sans two of them.

Simultaneously, Salvatore used the guards' ignorance to his advantage. They left him untied and unmuffled. He quickly switched from ranting to uttering words of power. All four guards on the rowboat fell into deep slumber.

“Grab the oars! I'll slit their throats once we are outside of the archers' range.”

Ad'wi unleashed a single arrow. It landed straight into the heart of a guard waiting for the rowboat's arrival at the island. He fell face first into the river.

Norwell sighed heavily.

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Following records of Fra Nevjest were recovered after his untimely death.

Written by Fra Nevjest's player.

Episode 1

Session 47

Fra Nevjest is a cleric of Kodeus, God of Dexterity, Thieves and other minor bits and bobs. Actually, he’s a wanna-be cleric. In as much as the young fellow is intelligent (15) and wise (16), his dexterity is lacking (5) after his uncle, seeking to enhance the family gene, experimented on him in infancy: praying to Kodeus for a stronger bloodline. Kodeus, ever a humorous god, gifted Fra with a Bump of Direction, which is imbedded between his ears… but in exchange left the babe with a rather low level of dexterity (minus 6 to what it was). The uncle, feeling guilty for his experimentation on a family member that would never be condoned by the Clerical Society of the Astral Planes, grandfathered him into the service of Kodeus (or maybe uncle was just getting his own revenge on the deity?).

Fra is a willing servant, lively and healthy, but rather unable to tie his caligulae without making a knot or three. Being no fool, and realising that only Kodeus can reverse his condition, Fra seeks to ingratiate himself in the lawful side of the brotherhood and wishes to catch Kodeus’ eye, preferably favourably...

In his first foray away from the abbey, he has agreed to help 3 brothers: Fitzedward (a veteran fighter), Doud and Hobart (less than bright peasants) in looking for their sister and her husband, kidnapped by some miscreant evil elders. In the process of seeking the decrepit burial temple where the elders have holed up, he makes the acquaintance of Orda, a lawful Mongolic fighter, who seems to enjoy battle cries that sound more like a mammoth in labour and Orion, a chaotic thief, who embarrassingly shares the same deity and is as weaselly as … as… well… a weasel.

A walk from the village pub brings the party into marvellous fields and forests that eventually give way to a large hill, atop which are ruins of the elder’s temple. There seem to be three entrances, two are lower down and barrow like, while the third, the grand entrance is a set of huge iron doors with a carved symbol of law, now circled with drawings of chaos. In better times it was a resting place for great templars and clerics. Concerned the doors could slam behind of us, we sought the SW barrow, a simple access carved in lawful runes.

As they entered the tunnel, a large blue apparition rose out of the ground. They engaged it with respect and learned with relief it was lawful. The figure lamented the condition of the temple and sought their help to cleanse it of the evil elders who had desecrated and occupied the place. Fra and Orda jumped at the opportunity and even offered to help reconsecrate it. They were offered tools to complete the quest on condition these were returned at the end. While this conversation went on, Orion avoided the lawful exchange and scurried off to explore.

Fra and Orda each entered sarcophagi rooms occupied by dead clerics and paladins respectively. Fra found a brooch that would protect him from evil, while Orda got a sword. They thanked the dead and prayed for them. Entering a 3rd room, they found desecrated sarcophagi, collected the bones and tried to put them in the right place, praying again. Meanwhile 2 giant rats assailed Orion and the brothers, the rats were slain with minor difficulty.

They continued exploring, entering a large pillared room. To the south was a corridor with two guardian stone cats, which Fra went up to admire and pat. Orion, fearing a trap wormed past them on his belly. They entered a brightly decorated room with a 3-panel sarcophagus in an offshoot. Orion rushed to a huge gem set therein. Fra warned him off taking it, but was distracted by a scream far behind. As they rushed back to the main corridor, Fra saw the little thief palm the gem out of the corner of his eye … he ground his teeth in disgust.

The horrible sound came from Doud, dying under the claws of a tusked being, covered in wrinkled decaying skin. Fitzedward and Orda slew it.

The party continued through more passages. At one point Fra went on a ways, to guard the passage, while Orda and Orion checked another painted room, bright yellow with patterns and dice painted on the ceiling. A very narrow passage led off to an alcove and Orion squeezed into it, encountering 4 waist height stone balls in shallow depressions, one at each corner of the limited space. Hoping for treasure, he struggled to move the balls and 4 centipedes eventually came out from under one to assail him viciously. Three died under his struggles but the fourth climbed up his pantaloons and bit his privates, putting paid to one of the pair… Orda reached in and dragged him forth, punching him in the groin and crushing the interloper… Orion was greatly diminished (sic) and ill from the poison and pain, but he dragged himself after us rather than return alone to the surface.

Orda and Fra chanced onto a series of rooms, again beautifully decorated. Fitzedward followed, prepared for combat while Hobart carried a torch and Orion hobbled in the rear. The last room dedicated to Aeblos, also contained an ugly statue. Fra approached and the statue hissed and came to life in reaction to the brooch. The group fought it and brought it down. As it fell, shouts for help were heard and a narrow passageway was found leading to a small prison room where the missing couple were shackled to the wall. The heroes released them and the family (what remained of it) was gratefully reunited.

The group left the temple, but not without assuring the blue apparition that they would return to keep their promise.

Episode 2

Session 48

After two weeks resting in Dontrap, a desolate hamlet on the far reaches of the Borderlands, the adventurers sallied forth to return to the temple. Fra, Orda, Orion were again joined by the brothers Fitzedward and Hobart as well as a new colleague, Tamren, a well accoutred Paladin of Coriptis, God of war.

The Fra strode bravely forth, confidence growing from having survived his first delve into the depth of chaos. The party marched across the meadows and fields leading to their destination. Suddenly there came a loud beating of wings as a monstrous eagle swooped on Orda and injured him. The party lagged in its surprise. The eagle had time to lunge for another prey and this time hooked its talons into the Fra’s chainmail, pinning him to the ground. Shaken with surprise, the Fra did not react, hoping his colleagues would strike the fowl fiend and rescue him. They indeed struck the eagle but did not get it to relax its hold. With little effort, the bird lifted the Fra into the air, 160 feet or more… Arrows thudded into it and with a squawk, the bird of prey dropped the Fra… Fra’s last thoughts were “why am I so clumsy?” as he plummeted earthwards and died (16 x d6 damage…).

The Fra’s eyes fluttered open, his head and body ached as if he had been dropped from a great height. How was he alive? He looked around the little temple and saw the old priest who resided there. “Your colleagues thought you were worth the effort of one of the Revive Dead scrolls I had in our meagre treasury. You are fortunate, firstly that the scroll still worked and secondly that you weren’t your colleague Orion, who your colleague’s opted not to save”.

Muttering a prayer of thanks to Kodeus, the Fra re-joined his friends. After his death, the party had been attacked by Altarian barbarians, as the party returned to Dontrap. They were all slain, but at the cost of Orion and Hobart. The party had now been joined by Bright Goose, who looked a little like Orion, with his flaming hair and his odd predilection for all things avian.

The group walked back to the temple, with the Fra nervously scanning the heavens. It was decided to re-engage in the original passage in the hopes of meeting the Guardian again. But there was consternation and disappointment as the apparition was gone and the sarcophagi in all the rooms they had visited were now desecrated and smeared with blood. The entered the skeleton room that had held skeletons – all were shattered. One of the cat statues was broken, as if it had received one or more blows. A little further in was the passage to the sarcophagi that Orion had stolen the gem from. A cat blocked the access and it would appear that it was indeed a guardian and had fought off whatever evil had entered. The Fra immediately went to pat the statue and passed around it into the sarcophagi room. Opening a panel, he found therein two bags. One contained a huge bright green sphere, the other held gold coins and a mace. The Fra called back to his colleagues for advice. Take it all they said, we’ll need everything we can to cleanse this nest of evil. As he withdrew the sacks, the sphere and the gold disappeared, leaving him with light, well balanced mace.

The party returned to the main corridor and explored a dead end or two before finding a narrow passage to the east. Tamren and the Fra followed it into a small room. Two wrinkled creatures shied back from the torch the Fra held. Tamren charged in striking at one of the mole men, while Fra courageously rushed at the other. While Tamren dismembered his adversary, the Fra repeatedly lived up to his lack of dexterity missing his opponent 4-5 time. Ultimately the mole man won through, gouging the Fra badly and claiming his left eye. The Fra was healed in combat but continued missing the mole man who hit him again. Tamren clove the creature, to the Fra’s relief and exhaustion. Tamren found a ring and 11 gp from the rotting remains.

The Fra wondered if he would have been better off dead after all… was Kodeus laughing at him?

Episode 3

Session 49

Bright Goose healed Fra to the best of his abilities, but the damage was serious. Resigning himself to the fickle humour of Lord Kodel, Fra vowed to carry on. In the main corridor, the party encountered a solitary fighter, Harkir, who was welcomed into the party.

A cursory revisit to the narrow corridor revealed nothing but another empty room. Re-engaging in the main passageway, the party came to a forking passageway with strong soot marks on the ground and smell in the air. Heading north they followed a spiralling path which narrowed and forked again. Taking the left-hand fork and following the heavier soot trail, the adventurers came upon a larger room, another dead end. It contained a large, broken, white statue with thousands of coins at its feet, around it were three black statues, abominations similar to the one encountered when Fitzedward’s sister was rescued. The statues charged the party as did a sudden apparition, a dense cloud of soot with a pair of burning eyes pulsing form it. The combat was fierce. Fra’s attempts to dispel the soot creature and to use the brooch failed – perhaps not undead? Fra was hit and fell back. Harker and Oda did their best but could not destroy the adversaries – the soot creature was strangling Orda in a cloud of… soot. Fitzedward leapt in and with amazing skill overcame all 4 horrors. The soot demon exploded in a massive cloud depositing a very thick coat of soot across the room.

As the party caught its breath Fra went to the statue and prayed. He noted a large sword inside, which he sought to extract, to no avail. The weapon carried medallions of a feathered bird, a horse and a resting dragon on its hilt. Fra also recovered his brooch, with extraordinary good fortune.

While this was going, Harker retraced his steps to bring Tamren and Bright Goose to join the party. He discovered them fighting a group of naked maniacs whipped forth by two molemen. Thinking quickly, Harker told Tamren and Bright to withdraw, while he threw oil at the fiends. Thrice he smote them and each time burned one to death. The survivors fled momentarily, allowing Harker to fall back. As he looked over his shoulder, a vast collection of maniacs was rushing towards him and flowing up the corridor that led to where the white statue was.

The monstrous wave hit Orda, Fitz and Fra, who were almost caught unawares. The trio fought furiously, killing the first four, but all succumbed. Fra’s last vision was a filthy hand gouging out his surviving eye. With a sigh Fra fell to the ground, dead. In his mind’s eye he saw Kodel laughing insanely at him, but he also had a strange vision of an elf in in some odd and unrecognisable armour surrounded in light. Then, he was no more.

As Orda died, he sank his Phoenix Sword into the floor and a great gout of flame erupted and incinerated the attackers like a gust of volcanic wind.

Harker, Bright and Tamren cautiously scouted back to the statue room, seeking survivors. There were only charred remains and even the coins had all melted and fused together. Harker noticed that the lawful statue remained, as did the sword. He reached in and withdrew it, a fine two-handed weapon. Suddenly voices boomed out in his head. “This sword will help you, but you will be unable to release it or leave this temple before you have cleansed it, reconsecrated it and returned it to its former glory”. The spirits revealed the lay-out of the temple and directed the survivors to a room nearby, with a fountain of holy water flowing into a pool – a place of sanctuary.

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Character Class Description
Orda Fighter level 3 Very lawful and very goodly Karakan warrior from far east with bushy red mane and beard.
Fra Nevjest Cleric level 1 A rather clumsy devotee of Kodeus, the gnarly God of Dexterity and Patron Deity of Thieves.
Harker Fighter level 1 Top heavy hunk with skinny legs, wielding a massive great-axe with rose-motifs.


Character Class Description
Rashomon Elf level 1 A dangerous looking elf.
Haleth Elf level 2 An albino elf with bright red eyes.

Sunstrong 19th, Fireday


Fra Nevjest was cupping his bleeding wound. Mere moments ago a disgusting mole-like humanoid create had gouged out his eye.

“Stay calm.” Tamren healed the wound, but alas, from now on Fra Nevjest will be an one-eyed cleric.

The party briefly explored other narrow corridors, finding nothing but empty, dusty chambers. They returned to the main corridor...

“Who goes there?”


“I'm Orda, a great warrior! We are here to purge this temple of all evil! Do you want to join us!”


And so the party grew by adding another great warrior. They traversed the wide corridor, deeper into the desecrated temple.

Soon they encountered a T-shaped junction. The path to the left was much rougher hewn-stone tunnel. The ground was covered in ash and soot, with many footprints leading in and out.

“Tamren, Brent Goose, could you stand guard here while we explore the dark tunnel?”


Orda took the front, Fra Nevjest with torch right behind him, Harker watching the one-eyed cleric's back, and Fitzedward watching his back.

The quarter carefully advanced. The tunnel was winding and twisting. The deeper they went, the more did ash and soot cover every surface visible. Ground, walls, ceiling. Everything.

“Might it be something explosive?”

Another split. Ash and soot to the left, nothing up ahead. A clean tunnel—not even a single sooty footstep.

“Let's keep following the ash trail.”

And so they went deeper, following the twisting pathway. It was getting narrower and narrower by each step, forcing the party to advance in a single file formation with little space to navigate.


Orda could see the tunnel turning sharply to left. The turn was almost at the right angle.

“Pass me the torch, and I'll take a peek.”

Leaning around the corner, Orda could see the following:

An irregular chamber, approximately fifteen by fifteen feet, dominated by a tall white marble statue in north-west corner. Thousands of coins laid at its feet.

Several ash clouds ash floating around a human-shaped creature. It had only one leg, black skin, burning red eyes, and was levitating just by the broken statue.

Three black stone statues similar to the one that had attacked Fra Nevjest earlier.

One of the statues lunged at peeking Orda.


The quartet forced their way into the small chamber, each facing one opponent. Karakan warrior went for the red-eyed demon, while the others focused on stone statues.

It was a brief, but brutal skirmish.

Ash demon was navigating clouds of ash, using them to attack Orda. The warrior managed to cut off the monster's arm, only to be rewarded by a huge cloud of ash and soot.

Black mass was alive, crawling up his skin and forcing itself into his mouth, nostrils, eyes, and all other orifices. Orda endured it heroically, although none of his subsequent attacks connected.

Fra Nevjest's turning attempt were as impotent as his melee attacks.

Harker's attacks often landed, but failed to do much.

Fitzedward was the true star of this battle, for he felled stone statue one by one. This in turn made the ash demon focus on him. Remembering his dead brother Doud, Fitzedward took a swing and beheaded the demonic creature.

The monster imploded into a black ball, inhaled all the ash and soot, and then billowed it out in great explosion. When everything settled, the party found themselves knee deep in ash.

“This was for you brother. Rest in peace.” Fitzedward shook his sword and cleaned it of remaining soot.

“Wow, look at this statue.”

A tall, bearded man holding a sphere, made of white marble. Gaping hole in his chest revealed a pommel of a large sword. A medallion was resting on the hilt. Three creatures were engraved on it: a horse, a phoenix, and a dragon.

More than six thousand coins were resting at the foot of the statue; now covered in ash and soot.

Orda and Fra Nevjest started sorting through it, Fitzedward wasn't too interested but was helping out anyway, and Harker went back to report to the guarding party of Tamren and Brent Goose.

“Oh my!”

Tamren stood at the centre of T-junction, a pile of bones and skeletal remains under his feet. Brent Goose was just behind him, brandishing his weapon and holy symbol.

“What's happening?”

Harker ran up to them. And then he found his answer before any of the two had the chance to speak.

A tunnel to his left was full of deformed humans, each covered in dried blood, excrement, and other filth. Their claws suggested these creatures might be less human than they appear.

“Fall back! Fall back!”

The trio ran down the wide corridor they had entered through. Harker yelled insults at the monsters, hoping to attract some of them.

Alas, they all ignored him and went into the ash covered tunnel.

Orda, Fra Nevjest, and Fitzedward were woefully unaware of any of this.

“Ignore this!”

Harker ran back and chucked a burning oil flask straight into one of the monstrous human. It fell down to the ground, a mix of crispy and charred. Other horrors immediately begun feasting on its warm corpse.

“Here's more!”

Downing a second one was enough to get the attention of those that still hadn't gone into the ash-laden tunnel. They went for Harker instead.


The sole warrior took care of them.

Orda dropped a sack filled with coins. He heard their footsteps before he could see or smell them. He took out his Phoenix blade just in time for one of the deformed humans to run straight into it.

Fra Nevjest smashed the head of yet another one. Orda cleaved another one in half.

“Go for the leader!” Orda roared, seeing how a squat, monstrous mole-man seemingly pushing other deformed humans right in front of it.

But his words fell on deaf ears.

Cannibals swarmed the chamber. Two wrestled Fitzedward, while the third ripped out his throat. Another jumped on Fra Nevjest and gouged out his other eye. Screaming, the cleric was forced to the ground. His suffering was ended by blunt force trauma.

Orda, tired and injured from previous encounter with ash demon, took his last stand in the centre of the chamber. His red mane swung as wildly as his sword. Blood gushed wherever the blade went.

Alas. Alas. The sea of hateful flesh surrounding him was too much. Squat mole-man delivered a blow which forced the Karakan warrior to his knees. He could feel the sword trembling in his hand. It wasn't his dying body abandoning him. No. The sword was actually trembling more and more by the second. The phoenix on it started to get bright red.

Orda turned the sword around and stabbed it straight into the ground.

“I must go back!”

A huge explosion threw Harker down to the ground. The whole dungeon shook with great intensity, and a ball of flame roared out of the ash-laden tunnel.

“Orda! Fra! Fitz!”

Harker ran into the tunnel, despite the explosions moments ago. He ignored all the charred corpses and pulverized remains. Dozens of them.

“No! No...”

Marble statue still stood.

Melted Karakan splint mail covered charred remains of kneeling warrior.

Everything else was unrecognisable.



Harker heard a trio of voices. But there was no one present?


The hole in the statue was bigger than before—surely a side effect of the explosion. The giant two-handed sword was now truly visible in all its glory.

Amazed, Harker approached it. He put his rose-covered great battle axe on his back, and took out the sword.

“You will purge this temple.” a masculine voice boomed.

“You will cleanse it of evil.” a deep voice commanded.

“You will restore it to its former glory.” a stern voice ordered.

“I will.” Harker answered.

And he did.

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


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

Sunstrong 9th, Fireday

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing shall crawl up my pantaloons no more!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so the party set out.

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

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

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

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


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

Then he released an arrow.

And the eagle fell too.

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

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

“Here, looks perfect.”

Finally, they sought the corpse of giant eagle.

“Does it have any treasure?”


“I want to chop it up for food.”

“I want its head as a trophy.”

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

Alas, trouble breeds trouble.

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

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

“These must be the Altanian barbarians...”

“We should try to parley.”

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

Stare down did not last long.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunstrong 19th, Fireday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Orda engaged in some sorrowful Mongolian throat singing.

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

“Where are the stone cats?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you Guardian Spirit.”

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

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

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

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

Tamren went in first, followed by Fra Nevjest.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

“What are these creatures?”

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Character Class Description
Orda Fighter level 3 Very lawful and very goodly Karakan warrior from far east with bushy red mane and beard.
Fra Nevjest Cleric level 1 A rather clumsy devotee of Kodeus, the gnarly God of Dexterity and Patron Deity of Thieves.
Orion Thief level 3 Very chaotic and very desperate for money. His bright red pony-tail is so long he could sweep the floor with it.

Warmshade 19th, Fireday

“This is the Elder Temple. Or what was left of it at least.”

Fitzedward, a veteran warrior from a nearby hamlet Dontrap, announced as the party approached the foot of wood covered hill. Several opening carved into the hill were visible, as was the broad base where once the temple stood. Now it was nothing but rubble and few decrepit pillars.

Few days ago he recruited brave adventurers to help him and his two younger brothers, Doud and Hobart, find their missing sister. His research led him to suspect the long abandoned temple of long forgotten Deity of Law.

Fitzedward was grateful—and lucky—to have secured the help of following three brave souls.

  • Orda, a mysterious and fierce looking warrior from far east. He wielded his scimitar with awe-inspiring speed. His glittering scale mail was completely alien to Fitzedward.
  • Fra Nevjest, a smart and wise acolyte of Kodeus. Despite his wit, Fitzedward couldn't help to notice how gawky the cleric was.
  • Orion, a smarmy opportunistic rogue willing to help as long as he get a “fair share” of the treasure. Fitzedward was amazed by Orion's bright red pony-tail and wondered if he might be hiding a dagger or some other sharp weapon at the end of it.

“You are experienced adventurers. How should we approach the ruin?”

“Indeed we are. We shall begin by inspecting the opening closest to us. Then we shall scale all the way up to the temple ruins. Once there we shall scout the surroundings from our vantage point. Finally, we shall investigate other openings.”

And so they went.

The first opening was a simple affair. A carved tunnel framed with simple stone blocks. It led some twenty or thirty feet inside, terminating in a junction splitting to left and right.

Large carved face was just visible at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately there wasn't enough daylight to make out its features.

Having finished scouting this entrance, the party continued on with their plan.

Scaling the temple ruins revealed that yes, this temple has indeed been ruined. There were broken stone columns and chunks of wall strew all about the plateau. No threat was in sight.

“This is a symbol of Chaos.”

Fra Nevjest spent some time studying the large iron gates at the foot of the former temple. The doors were marked with a large circle. Eight arrows, each crossing the circle, have been gouged into the doors in a star-shaped pattern.

“What do you think Orion? Are these gates safe to open?”

Master Thief's investigation led him to conclude that no, there are no discernible traps on these massive iron doors. They seeming opened inwards, but without any notable handlebars they might require a lot of force to open.

“Let's check the last entrance, just below us.”

This entrance was also carved from the rock. And like the previous one, this opening was also framed with stone blocks. But these blocks were not as plain as the ones they've previously encountered.

Skull and skeletons and unknown runes were carved in all the blocks, with majority of the runes being just above the opening.

“Form ranks.”

Orda and Fitzedward took the front rank. Orion and Fra Nevjest followed. Doud and Hobart took the back, with the latter delegated to the torch-boy status.

The tunnel was simple. The air was stale. The atmosphere was unnerving. Two narrower tunnels were to their right, and a four-way junction just up ahead. Exercising prudence, the party decided to check each narrow tunnel before proceeding forward.

Now, this is where most of the people disagree and think the following has been dreamed up by the adventurers to justify their plunder of the sacred artefacts. I leave it up to you to decide for yourself.

Orda and Fra Nevjest were the only ones brave enough to go down the narrow tunnel. There they found five stone coffers. Orda recited words for the resting as he entered, whilst Fra Nevjest was following closely.

A cloud of light blue mist engulfed both, and transparent human figured materialised between them. Apparently it was a “guardian spirit” whom was in a great distress because the temple and catacombs have been desecrated by a necromancer.

“I have failed my task as the Guardian.” the ghost lamented.

Orda and Fra Nevjest offered their services, stating they are here on a noble quest to rescue the sister of Fitzedward.

“We'd be honoured to purge this place of evil and sanctify the altar.”

“Oh, you remind me of our strongest paladins! The evil that lurks here is strong. Cleric, head to the fourth sarcophagus from the left—there you will find a brooch that will protect you from evil.”

“Warrior, go into the adjacent crypt. There you will find the resting place of three paladins: The Phoenix, The Horse, and The Dragon. Open the first one—and none other!—there you will find a sword that never rusts.”

“Take nothing else and respect the resting. Return the artefacts once you've purged the evil.”

“We shall do so, oh mighty Guardian!”

Orion made sure to be as far way as he could from all this goody-two-shoes talk. The Guardian indicated that the main tunnel will take them deeper into the temple, where they will be able to find the source of evil.

The thief went on to scout it a bit. Two giant rats surprised him from underneath one of the loose stones. Orion wrestled one and promptly stabbed it to death. Orda severed the other in half. Then he splashed blood all over Orion.

Naturally, the party went back and spent an hour checking the crypts, “just to make sure nothing comes at us from behind.” Unbeknownst to others, Orion managed to nick a large gem that was atop a large stone chest in one of the chambers.


Fitzedward's roar echoed down the tunnels. He and his two brothers were left to guard the junction. Orion and Fra rushed to him as quickly as they could.

A grisly sight welcomed them. Doud was lying dead on the floor, a gaping wound on his neck and chest. Fitzedward was wrestling with a stout, naked human-like abomination.

The monsters had pale-pink skin, with many folds. It was hairless. The “head” looked as if someone dragged a skin over human head and then slapped a snout and rodent-like mouth. Its hands were clawed atrocity, and a set of jagged, yellow teeth protruded out of what could arguably be called its mouth.

Fitzedward was red with rage, while Hobart desperately tried to pull Doud from underneath the creature.

Orda was first to reach them, Fra soon joined the fray as well. But it was Fitzedward who decapitated the creature with a blow full of anger and sorrow.

“Brother!” he cried as he dropped to his knees.

“There will be time for sadness. But now we must find your sister. Let us go deeper.”

The tunnel went on and on, turning every thirty feet or so. Eventually they reached a t-shaped junction splitting up ahead and hard right.

Orion and Orda went to check the far right while the others took guard at the junction.

The duo found entered in a curious chamber. All the walls were painted with trees and flower, while the ceiling was painted pitch black and dotted with countless little white spots. Orion went on to explore an adjacent room while Orda was gazing at the ceiling.

Thief entered into a significantly smaller chamber. This was had all the surface painted in vibrant yellow. A blue stone sphere rested on the ground in each corner of the room. A curious man he is, Orion started playing with them.

He slapped one a few times. Then he jumped on it. Yes, it was made of stone. And yes, now he had a sore butt. Finally, he decided to roll one.

Lo and behold, it rolled in place! Next, he pushed it. Yes, it popped out of small floor depression it was in and rolled to the center of the room.

Fascinated by this, Orion went on to next sphere. This one was easy to push out of its depression as well. Only that it was a black hole that the thief failed to notice. Just like he failed to notice four giant centipedes scuttling out.

One of them found its way through Orion's pants, crawled up his thighs to his nether region. Sensing soft flesh, the creature took a powerful bit with its mandibles.

Orion yelped lough enough to draw Orda's attention. Karakan warrior refused to enter the chamber with centipedes munching on helpless thief.

“Here, hold onto this rope!”

He dragged him out of the chamber. As he did so, three giant centipedes scuttled back into the dark hole they came out of.

“My balls! It's eating my balls!” Orion cried in panic.

Orda's eyebrows and anus tensed as he did what he had to do.

He stomped Orion's affected area with all his might.

A stomach turning crunch could be heard as Orion was left breathless.

Orda carried him back to the junction.

“What happened?”

Everybody winced as Orda shared his account.

“I'm sorry this has happened to you, but we must keep on looking for our sister. Let's move on.”

Everyone agreed with Fitzedward's reminder, and the party pressed on. Even crippled Orion followed, refusing to leave the dungeon.

Another long tunnel, another T-shaped junction. This time the party went left, finding yet another junction. One path led to a green painted chamber. Birds were drawn on all the walls. A hug, majestic avian creature was painted on the south-west wall.

“Aelbos” was written on the plaque underneath it. Fra Nevjest spent some time contemplating and praying in the room for guidance.

Following the other path led them into a most disturbing chamber. This one had a number of faces painted on the walls. Faces themselves were various human expressions, but each one of them was gouged or otherwise defaced.

A demon-like stone statue which stood in the north-east corner of the room made everyone uneasy.

“Ha, I have a good idea!” Fra Nevjest announced as he took out brooch given to him by the Guardian. He held it with both hands and approached the statue.

It hissed and jumped at the cleric. The party quickly surrounded it and started hacking it down quicker than it could do the same to Fra Nevjest.

“Help us! Save us!” a female voice yelled from behind the corridor that the statue was blocking.

“That's Etarra, our sister! Begone demon!”

And with a battle cry, Fitzedward cleaved the black statue in half. It crumbled to pieces, black ichor oozing from its wounds, and then it turned gray and turned to dust.

“Quickly, follow me!” Fitzedward rushed in, Hobart besides him, Orda and Fra Nevjest right behind them.

A small, dirty room was just at the end of this narrow corridor. Etarra and Albraita, her husband, were manacled and chained to the wall. The party quickly broke their chains and rushed outside.

“Sacred Guardian, we wow to return and cleanse this place of evil as soon as we return this two good people to safety!”

The ghost nodded at brave adventurers as they left the complex underneath the ruined Elder Temple.

“Thank you for helping us. I have some unfinished business with the evil that lurks there. I promise to return with you.”

“We shall help you avenge your brother.”

Fitzedward gripped his sword and hugged Etarra.

Wilderlands might be tough, but so are its people.

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Character Class Description
Rhovar Fighter level 3 A generic Nordic guy.
Kuqhir of the Wastes Magic-User level 2 A thin, tall, dark skinned man with a magnificent beard that tickles his bellybutton. Dresses in silk robes and tightly folded turban embroidered with names of all known angels.
Rad Thief level 3 A young, short and malnourished rogue.

Thistleburn 5th, Spiritday

“Come on, we have to keep moving!”

“Go on, go on!” Rhovar waved at others in front of him.

“It is time to do the right thing. Pass me the oil flasks! And promise you'll find a wizard to revive me!”

Rad, Kuqhir, Pipluk, and Amanka ran into a dark tunnel and turned right at the junction.

Rhovar on the other hand opted to create as much noise as possible. He wanted the black mass of devouring to follow him instead of his friends. It had already consumed Kallahan and Neremyn.

Skandik warrior could feel his lungs fill with liquid. He found it increasingly difficult to breathe. His sight was getting murkier with every step he took.

“Surely a side effect of that damn yellow cloud I've inhaled...”

He stumbled and turned left at the junction. There he continued onward into yet another junction. The floor there was gummy and rubbery. Rhovar felt as if he was sinking with every step.

Was it a figment of his imagination, his brain deprived of oxygen playing tricks on him, or something else? Little does it matter, for Rhovar found himself engulfed in purple fog. Rhovar's chin hit his chest as he slumped down on his knees and entered eternal slumber.

“Keep moving, just move, move, move!”

Survivors worked their way through meandering tunnels.

“Shit, the other way!”

Seeing a familiar sickly pale light at the end of one tunnel was enough to change their course.

“Uh, another junction...”

“Let's check forward first, it might loop backwards?”

“Good idea!”

Alas, it was another dead end... Until one of the survivors spotted a narrow passageway. It was barely traversable, but Rad managed to fit through—sideways! He quickly backtracked after sniffing that burning acidic smell.

Following the south tunnel the party entered into yet another unfamiliar dark chamber.

“What is that?”

A large floating sphere entered their sight. It was silently levitating in the center of the large cave. The sphere's surface seemed leathery with warty patches. A number of floppy fleshy tubes perturbing from the upper portion of the sphere were hanging to its sides. Some had ball-shaped endings.

“Quiet... be very quiet...”

Amanka remained at the junction, while Kuqhir, Rad, and Pipluk sneaked around the sphere. They wanted to check if there is a passageway at the other side of the cave.

There wasn't.

Turning around they could see that fleshy sphere had a single massive eye on this side. It was closed. Wide mouth with innumerable shark-like teeth dominated the bottom portion of the sphere.

“Pssst—let's get out of here!”

“Ivaar, is that you?”

Pale light approached Amanka just as the others have rejoined her.

“No, my friend. I'm sorry to say, but Ivaar and others from your party are long dead. In fact so are you.” Kuqhir stepped forward to answer.

“What? How? What do you mean?”

“Your name is Grond. We have already encountered you once. Unfortunately, it looked like you've taken your own life away and your gods have cursed you to roam these caves forevermore.”

Having learned their lesson in the previous encounter with Grond, the party went to great extremes to be polite and courteous with him.

At this point Amanka offered the possibility of consecrating his remains. Perhaps that would appease the gods and allow Grond to move on.

“Watch out!”

A large black blob of boiling mass emerged from darkness. It was “merely” ten feet wide and tall—a baby compared to the one that's already consumed some of them.

Grond turned to the mass and then flew straight through it and back. The party marvelled as the blob solidified and then crumbled, until it was nothing but gray dust.

“We know where your body lies! But this horrible thing stands in our way. We will give you funeral rites if we manage to get there!”

“I will escort you there. And I will protect you. Lead the way.”

At this moment Amanka took off her chainmail so she can move as fast as others.

The party went the long way around, backtracking past the cave with wooden sarcophagus, to the illusory cave wall, then through narrow tunnels, all the way to the junction with murder stalactites, until the finally reached the skeleton.

“Allow me to show you how you were...”

Kuqhir demonstrated how they found Grond's skeleton with sword driven through his ribs and his palms resting on the pommel.

“I remember... I wish I found a different way out...”

Amanka, a cleric of of fallen warriors and unsung heroes, spoke funeral rites befitting a warrior fallen in the pits. Rad, Kuqhir, and Pipluk stood in solemn silence.

“Thank you.” Grond said with a smile.

“No, what was it you wished help with?” he asked whilst getting less and less visible with every second.

“Escape! Escape! Escape!” Rad yelled before others even registered Grond's question.

“So be it.”

And they vanished with him.

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Character Class Description
Rhovar Fighter level 3 A generic Nordic guy.
Kuqhir of the Wastes Magic-User level 2 A thin, tall, dark skinned man with a magnificent beard that tickles his bellybutton. Dresses in silk robes and tightly folded turban embroidered with names of all known angels.
Brother Kallahan Cleric level 2 Crooked, broken nose; big bags under eyes; long hair, bald spot hidden under old pilgrim's hat; and emaciated figure. Mosquitoes and the smell of dampness always accompanies him.
BuddyPuddingBottom Elf level 2 Peppermint scented elf followed by jingles, on a quest for the perfect gift.
Neremyn Elf level 1 A tall, pale, and lean scholar of languages with silver hair and a somewhat distant attitude.

Thistleburn 5th, Spiritday

“You have some explaining to do!”


As soon as Kallahan opened his eyes, he found himself being shouted at by Rhovar and slapped by BuddyPuddingBottom.

He was bruised, naked, and had a splitting headache. He couldn't remember much except being beaten unconscious in one of the Shang Ta temples.

The party—Amanka, Rad, Rhovar, Kuqhir, Kallahan, BuddyPuddingBottom, Neremyn and Pipluk—have been thrown into The Pit on the accounts of heresy against the Windgod, the Lawful Deity of Antil. In fact, the whole Hydra Company has been condemned, but only the preceding were brave enough to walk straight into the great Windgod Temple.

Rhovar and Kallahan were completely naked. BuddyPuddingBottom was naked except pants and face painting. The rest were in their adventuring garbs, since they had already learned it never goes planned with the Hydra Company.

“There is a skeleton over there. It's dressed in chain shirt and hold a short sword.”

“Can I take the armour?” Kallahan asked sheepishly.

“Will you take the front rank then?” Rhovar asked impatiently.

“Uh, but I am sooo weak and beaten...”

“I have a big ass flail with which I can hit from the second rank. Neremy, would you like to go up front?”

“I almost died to a piece of rock and just came back to my senses. Could I not?”

“I will be the big man! Give me the armour! I'll protect you! I'll stand at the front—alone!” BuddyPuddingBottom the Hero stepped forward and resolved the adventurers' dilemma.

Unbeknownst to the party, three hours have already passed since they were thrown into The Pit. And nothing did they know of it, nor its nature or inhabitants. All they knew was that they have to get out. Fast.

Most of the tunnels were thirty feet wide, with damp walls and stale air. They'd wind and turn and circle and widen and narrow. Most led nowhere, some led into expansive caves which then led on... It was a sprawling Pit, that's what it was.

A rattling urn scared the party into running away in one of the tunnels. In yet another one the party had found an illusory wall which took them into a large cave.

“Look! An upwards slope!”

Alas, even after climbing for several hundred feet, the party had found nothing but another dead end. This one was different though.

A broad wooden chest was standing just against the cave wall. It was so large two men could sit on it comfortably.

Kallahan approached it from the side. Yes, it was a large wooden chest. Then he checked it from the front. Yes, it was still a large wooden chest. Then he came closer to touch it.

Just as he did so a ghoulish creature jumped on the chest from behind. It crouched, with face to face with Kallahan. The naked cleric could smell the stench emanating from the creature.

“This is mine. Mine!” the creature hissed whilst banging on the chest.

Kallahan slowly backed away while speaking to it calmly.

“You should leave. Now!” the monster screamed.

“I think we should kill it and check the chest. I mean, what's it going to do? It is naked!” Kallahan “whispered” to his friends.

By now the creature had enough, and it jumped straight at the party. Heroic BuddyPuddingBottom stepped in front of Kallahan. He took the full brunt of the assault, successfully deflecting all claws and bites. Rhovar then crushed the monster's head.

“See? Easy.”

“There is a large padlock on the chest. Maybe we should check the creature for keys?”

Indeed, there was a large iron key hidden between the buttocks.

BuddyPuddingBottom approached the chest and unlocked the padlock. Then he grabbed the lid and opened it. He felt a prick on the ring finger. His body went limp and he fell face first into the open chest.

“Buddy no!”

“Quick, pull him out!”

Alas BuddyPuddingBottom had sung his last jingle.

While many were mourning their fallen jolly-maker, Kallahan checked the chest. Inside were five torches, a tinderbox, and a rusty knife. All had dried blood on them. He took them all.

Rhovar gently took off the chainmail from BuddyPuddingBottom and then donned it himself. Leaving the dead elf behind, party backtracked and continued their search for the exit.

They found a cave with an upright wooden coffer in the centre of the chamber. Naturally they set it on fire and fled as soon as something large scuttled out of it.

An hour or so later they found themselves in a remotely familiar large cave.

“This looks like the chamber where we were lowered. But where is the platform?”

“Look out!”

There was a wisp of pale light at the end of the long tunnel they just came out of. It was approaching the party rapidly.

“Form ranks!”

“Who goes there? Identify yourself!” Rhovar yelled.

“Ivaar, is that you?” the figure spoke back.

“Shit, a ghost...” Rhovar whispered to others.

“No, it is Rhovar! We have been thrown into the pit and are looking for a way out. Who are you?”

“I am Grond. I too am lost...”

Now that the figure was just a few steps away, the party could see it much better. It was in fact a man dressed in simple tunic tightened with a leather belt. Grime covered his long braided hair, and his beard braids were scruffy looking. He held a lantern in his left hand. The party couldn't help but notice that they could see through him. Kallahan elbowed Rhovar.

“Have you seen Ivaar? I've been looking for him...”

“Friend, I believe you might be dead. You have to pass on! To Valhalla!”

Grond looked around, his face a cauldron of emotions ranging from confused to scared. Then he suddenly zoned in on Rhovar.

“That armour! Where did you get it?! That is my armour!”

“We found it on a skeleton that looked long dead. Would you like us to take you there?”

“Oh. Oh. OH!”

“Yes. Please do.”

“What a polite ghost this is!” someone whispered.

Grond recounted what he could remember to Rhovar. He was a Skandik mercenary that arrived to Altanis on a paid assignment. Thabrians paid them to fight against various Altanian tribes. He even fought alongside Windriders. Most of his company perished when they demanded a fair share of plunder. Survivors were cast into this pit.

“Here we are. Let me put everything back as we found it...”

Rhovar placed the skeleton in the sitting position, including the sword that was stuck in its ribs with arms resting on the pommel.

Grond went pale(er).

“Oh no.”

He started rubbing his face nervously.

“No no no no no no no”

He mumbled incoherently.

“I remember now. I was here for days? Weeks? I couldn't take it anymore. So I ended it myself. Oh no.”

“Well my friend, Valhalla isn't for everyone.” Rhovar tapped the skeleton.

“I'm sure there are some other afterlives that accept people like you?” Kallahan added in his infinite wisdom.

None of the above landed well with Grond. He lit up like a supernova, his rage boomed through endless tunnels of The Pit,

“You dare lecture me, cur! I roamed the Romilion sea before your grandfathers! I plundered Altanis and stomped nobles into dust! I was the Scourge of Zothay, hated and feared! And you dare mock me!”

The party was absolutely consumed by fear. It was unlike anything they ever felt in their lives. Everybody ran as fast as they could, tripping over each other. They ran in blind panic without any conception or care of what might lie in the darkness ahead. For everything was better than the sickly, ever consuming light that was pursuing them.




Echoed down the tunnels.

The party fled for hours before they settled in some dead end to catch some breath.

“Rad, you don't look like a kid anymore?”

“You look older yourself mate.”

Indeed, all the party members looked ten or more years older.

“What a bad deal this was.” Pipluk lamented to Neremyn.

“We have to move on. We have to.”

By now everyone could feel their bodies slowly failing them. It's been over ten hours in this pit. Adrenaline can only take them so far.

Exploring various tunnels led them to more dead ends: both proverbial and literal. One tunnel terminated with a pit so deep they could barely hear echos of the rocks they threw down. Another led into a large chamber with gold yellow patches on the ground. A tunnel that reeked of rotten flesh, burnt wood, and something acidic was deemed to dangerous to explore. A chamber with many skeletons was also evaluated as too risky to explore.

“I feel a draft!”

Indeed, one of the chambers they were exploring had a whiff of fresh air.

“Everybody stop, we have to find the source!”


After about half and hour of searching, both Amanka and Rad found a spot where they could feel the air stream.

“Give me some rope, and I'll check it out.”

Rad scaled the rough cave wall with ease. It was mostly vertical climb, but after some fifty feet he had to continue whilst hanging from the ceiling since it slopped inwards. Although it was tough, and he was tired, formerly young thief managed to find a narrow opening in the cave ceiling. It was pitch black, but so was everything else.

“It is narrow. Very narrow. I don't think people with armour could fit. And I don't think backpacks could fit either.”

“Do we have enough rope to hang from the hole?”

“I have 50 feet of rope.” Amanka shared.

“I found some 30 feet of rope in one of the caves.” Rhovar added.

“How about we explore a bit more? I'm afraid of what might be lurking above.”

And so the party tried their best to mark the location, and moved on through one of the tunnels.

Eventually they found themselves in yet another expansive dark cave.

“Look ahead. Something doesn't look right.”

Indeed, the darkness up ahead looked like a shimmering sea. A roiling, boiling, glistening, impossibly black sea. It was inching closer by the moment.

“Uh, I think we should leave.”

As the party turned around to flee, so did the black mass pursue. As it came closer and closer, so did the air fill with smell so intense it burned the nostrils of anyone inhaling it.

Tired and bruised, Kallahan tripped on the uneven cavernous floor.

“No, I'm not ready for the great swamps of the afterlife!”

He screamed after the others as black mass enveloped him. He could feel his skin simultaneously burning and shredded to pieces.

Romphlothicus, the Frog Lord of Swamps and Swamp Dwellers, licked its lips. The torture Kallahan endured at the hands of the Shang Ta clerics was nothing compared to the suffering that awaited him.

“Keep moving! Don't stop!”

“Watch out!”

Neremyn could feel the burden of his wounds, despite having guzzled several healing potions. He tried to take a shortcut between several stalagmites. Alas, they were too dense and he had to backtrack. But there was no time to do so.

He pushed, and he slashed, and he cursed as the black mass consumed him, bit by bit. All his efforts were in vain.

“You are faster, move on without us!” Rhovar yelled.

Indeed, Amanka and Rhovar were the only ones in heavy armour. Rad, Kuqhir, and Pipluk could outpace them.

“Head to the cave with yellow patches! Let's get the creature to consume them! Maybe it dies!”

Unwilling to agitate the said patches, Rad, Kuqhir, and Pipluk tiptoed through that cave. Unfortunately, Rhovar and Amanka couldn't afford to move slowly so they did their best not to step on anything.

“Well that didn't go so bad!” Amanka said as she turned back to Rhovar. She could see him standing in a cloud of yellow, coughing violently.

“Take cover!”

Huge stone-coloured grasshoppers suddenly begun jumping across the cave, some of them hitting the walls. Wherever one looked, they could see a yellow cloud rising.

Hydra's heads are getting chopped off one by one.

Will it survive to see another day?

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

#Wilderlands #SessionReport

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