Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Ainsley	Human	Ranger level 1	An older gentleman with a groomed moustache and a wooden pipe in his mouth, covered in dark green cloak.
Ambros	Human	Cleric level 7	Follower of Aniu, Lord of Time.
Aurella	Elf	Fighter level 1 / magic-user level 1	Exiled and chased out of her tree commune, she now wanders the Wilderlands.
Balarus	Human	Fighter level 4	An ex-woodsman, quite a crack shot with his bow.
Gerrick	Human	Fighter level 1	A tall hill-man with wicked reflexes and swift movements. Gerda's brother.
Ignaeus	Elf	Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Kenso San	Human	Fighter level 2	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Remus	Hobbit	Thief level 1	Sketchy hobbit looking for better loot.
Wilbalt Abendeurer	Human	Fighter level 3	A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Dewsnap 9th, Fireday

A hoard of chopped up giant centipedes laid strewn about Ignaeus and Balarus. Aurella, Kenso, and Jacob were unscathed.

“Oh, hey there!”

Remus the Thief, and Wilbalt the Burly stepped out of the darkness and joined the party.

They stripped the ancient skeletons of their chain shirts. Then they wrapped them up and left them in a corner of the cave for easier retrieval some time in the future.

Remus and Ignaeus had spent some time playing with the iron coffer held by one of the dead men. All that was for naught because, as it turned out, the coffer was empty! But Ignaeus had recovered a coin purse from the skeleton, and within it were two lapis lazuli gems, two obsidians, and three eye agates.

“Is this our guy? The one we are looking for?”

Fourth skeleton was noticeably different from the rest. For one, it still had hair. It was dressed in commoners' clothing, and it had no weapons nor armour.

“Might be!”

Adventurers took some of its hair. Then they proceeded to explore the west tunnel. After hundred feet or so it broke, perpendicularly, into another tunnel. A strong downdraught could be felt, as well as musty air. The elongated tunnel was quite low, some nine feet high. Numerous stalagmites poked out of the floor. Many of them were broken, being in essence, stumps.

Southwards were three shallow pits. Obviously man-made. They perplexed adventurers to no end. Eventually they gave up on figuring out them and moved further south.

On and on they went, following hundred yards or so of winding tunnels, until they reached a tight sink-hole. Down they went, one by one, following yet another long, long tunnel.

“Look...”

A round cave, with steps chiselled into the limestone, leading down a sharp drop into another cave. A carved boulder was visible. The party descended carefully.

Aurella's torch flickered.

She hesitated.

The torch extinguished.

The air exploded.

Remus and Aurella were no more.

Others were charred but alive.

“Grab the dead and let's get out!”

Exploding cave was right next to one of the caves by the entrance.

It was night outside. Adventurers set up a cold camp and went to sleep, dreaming of barbecue.

Dewsnap 10th, Spiritday

Thunderous roar of a black bear woke everyone up.

Wilbalt, whom had been on watch duty, braced for impact with glaive. He was firmly grounded, with the butt of his pole arm placed on the ground behind him.

Bear rammed him with all its might. Wilbalt held true and impaled the beast. It whimpered and clawed the burly man. He gave it no quarter; he yielded not. Kenso and Balarus hacked the wounded animal.

“Should we chop it up and take it to that insect swarm? Could serve as a bait?”

“Just leave it here. Let's take Aurella and Remus to Ambros so he can raise them...”

They arrived to Old Crus's tower, where Ambros was hiding, by noon.

“Sorry, hobbits cannot be raised.”

Aurella, though, was back and hurting. But she was back.

Adventurers then went to Ironburg to heal up and plan their next step.

Dewsnap 13th, Earthday

“Guys, I need that axe.”

Balarus, Wilbalt, Kenso, Ambros, Ainsley, and a new member Garrick, Gerda's brother, set out for the brigand's abandoned hideout.

“Guys, no really, I need that axe real bad.” Wilbalt kept repeating. At moments he was shaking as if suffering withdrawals.

“We'll get you your axe. Don't you worry.”

The axe in question was weapon sighted by the first party that went into this cave system. They had seen a pristine battle axe at the heart of insect swarm nest. Among thousands and thousands of centipedes, roaches, spiders, and other vermin. A place where Gerda had perished as others fled and left her behind.

“Where is the bear?”

“Its bones are there.”

This time the party did not take the long route via the northern tunnel, nor the route via the watery cave. No, they opted to backtrack through narrow tunnels some of them had discovered days prior.

Balarus shot few flaming arrows into the exploding cave.

Nothing exploded.

Feeling safe enough, they moved in, and through a series of narrow tunnels, until they reached the cave with skeletons. Then northwards into the insect cavern.

“Let me speak with them.”

Ambros announced.

He cast Speak with Animals.

His head nearly exploded as he heard an uproarious cacophony of voices yelling and screaming for food. Dazed and confused, it took him some time to compose himself.

As he spoke of food, the swarm grew quite and face him. Thousands tiny life forms listened attentively. They understood food was to be offered. They understood nothing else, especially all the elaborate instructions provided by Ambros.

Food was mentioned. Food was promised. Food was not delivered.

Wrong.

Food was right in front of them. Food was always right in front of them.

The swarm rushed forwards; towards the food that promised food.

Total bedlam ensued, with adventurers running in all directions.

Wilbalt and Gerrick went right and then south towards the watery tunnel. The rest fell back whence they cometh from.

“Follow two humans! Those two, yes!” Ambros yelled.

“What the fuck!!!” Wilbalt thought.

“Follow me!” Gerrick flashed his lantern at the swarm.

“Yes, follow them!”

The swarm moved slowly.

The plan was working, as the insect mass gradually moved from the cave into the tunnels.

“Quick, grab the axe while I cast Create Food!”

Ainsley sprinted for the skeletal remains. He grabbed the pristine looking battle axe.

“Let's get out!”

At the same time, Wilbalt and Garrick have been slowly retreating downwards. As the swarm advanced, they retreated. Step by step.

“Remember, there is something in the water!”

They hugged the cave wall and stepped into the shallow portion of rank, stagnant water.

And then it came; from the darkness.

A rotting carcass; jumping out, with gaping mouth and crooked fingers.

It was hacked from undeath to death, once and for all.

And then the duo fled too.

“So... about that axe...” Wilbalt panted.

“Yes, what about it?” Ainsley held it.

“I really need it. I seriously need it. I need it so bad.” Wilbalt spoke.

“Here, you can have it.”

Wilbalt smiled. Finally he got an axe too! Finally he can feel like a man, between Balarus and Thorinda each wielding a mighty axe of their own!

“Wait, one more thing!”

Party returned to the exploding cave to inspect the carved boulder. One of the adventurers remembered that boulder was jammed into some sort of crevice.

Four of them grabbed the boulder and rolled it backwards.

A hit!

Cave filled with twenty-two sacks holding over thirty thousands coins! Copper pieces galore!

Adventurers spent some hours packing all the goods, and planning their weight distribution. They also discovered a wooden chest underneath all the sacks. They decided to take it whole, instead of opening it here.

Since the night fell, they camped again. No bear this time.

Adventurers and their hoard of thirty thousand, six hundred, and eight copper pieces, plus nine hundred and sixty-six silver pieces, arrived at Ironburg on noon of Dewsnap the 14th, Fireday.

“Told you we will be rich.” Aurella quipped painfully.

Days were becoming longer. Flowerbloom, and Spring, are merely a week away, and the nature was showing it.

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Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Aurella	Elf	Fighter level 1 / magic-user level 1	Exiled and chased out of her tree commune, she now wanders the Wilderlands.
Balarus	Human	Fighter level 4	An ex-woodsman, quite a crack shot with his bow.
Ignaeus	Elf	Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Jacob Vin	Human	Assassin level 4	Slick black hair, inconspicuous dress, youthful for his age, and of keen instincts.
Kenso San	Human	Fighter level 2	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Leticia	Human	Cleric level 1	Extremely righteous, borderline zealot, devout follower of Rasthri, Goddess of Strength in Revenge.

Dewsnap 7, Waterday

Six chosen ones set out for tumulus once more. Alaric, the paladin of Tyr, has vowed to serve and protect Ironburg. Baron Sig asked him a couple of weeks ago to investigate freshly broken in mound. They exterminated goblins and undead on their first expedition, but had to return after Ignaeus went berserk and nearly killed everyone. This now, was the second party, set on finishing what the first one had begun.

To their delight, or disappointment, depending on whom you ask, they found the tumulus bereft of life. The chamber with rotten foodstuffs had been ransacked by a black bear, which then died from poisoning.

In one chamber they found a skeleton sitting on a large oaken throne. It was entwined with numerous vines and branches, and it reeked of decaying vegetation. A crown of thorns sat upon its head. The skeleton crumbled to dust, and all nature withered and decayed, after Balarus had poked it with his spear.

“You killed Jesus!” Kenso wept.

A room adjoining the large chamber stuffed with goblin corpses was picked clean. Few spent candles, discarded piece of parchment with a list of mining equipment, and greasy ration wrappings were all that was left. Secret chamber to the south-east contained two chests; both open, both empty.

Adventurers picked up discarded sledgehammers and pickaxes, and went to work on stone portal adorned with muscular men. Their very noisy endeavour attracted no attention. Beyond the portal was a domed semicircular chamber. At the far end was a statue of a muscular giant, sitting cross-legged. Before him was a grand stone bowl, held by dozens of muscular men. Clear spring-water filled its volume.

Of six chosen ones, only one was brave enough to take a gulp.

That was Ignaeus, the Elf of Elves. He took a sip, and then a sucked in a big gulp. The water tasted better than any of the Seven Virgin Springs known only to elves. His muscles swole and tensed, as he became muscular as well. Adventurers left the chamber and closed the portal behind them.

The final stop were secret corridors beyond the carved skeletal figure. Exploring the earthen tunnels led them to a cave-in connecting to the tree above. Nothing of value, nothing of interest.

Five chosen ones were apathetic to Aurella's desire to skin the dead bear. They helped her drag it out of the tumulus, but then made a cold camp several hundred yards away while she worked on it. Aurella was of strong spirit, and even stronger conviction.

Dewsnap 8th, Earthday

Aurella worked until the Sun set, and then until the Sun rose. Caked with gore and viscera, she stood triumphant with a “bearskin rug.” Nobody in Ironburg was interested in buying it—fur was greasy and bloody, chunks of flesh were still attached, and skin was shredded at places.

“Fine, then it will be a rug in our home!”

Adventurers spent the day resting before setting out for the abandoned brigand hideout.

Dewsnap 9th, Fireday

With Leticia opting to stay in Ironburg, the Chosen Six became Chosen Five. Minako acted as their guide, since she was the only one available that knew where the hideout is. They set out in the morning and reached the caves by noon. Out of four entrances they choose the north-east one.

Traversing the long tunnels and caves, they found the source of barking and yelping described by Minako—a pack of jackals. Kenso, Ignaeus, and Balarus slaughtered the adults, while Jacob took care of the puppies. Pushing deeper, the adventurers encountered what seemed like a dead end.

But Ignaeus and Aurella spotted a crevice on the west side. The former took off his backpack, and then shimmied sideways along it. Nearly half an hour later and he was in another cave, with sightly acrid smell. Others soon joined him. Balarus was forced to doff his armour in order to fit through, but nothing ill happened to him.

Once on the other side the party soon found themselves in the cavernous space filled with thousands of centipedes, spiders, and other vermin, crawling all about. Minako had told them all about the grisly fate Gerda had suffered, for no fault of her own besides wanting to help, and thus they give the swarm a wide berth.

Out of four tunnels leading into this cave, they chose south-west one. They moved slowly and carefully, avoiding a sporadic jagged stalagmite.

“Look!”

A cave, some thirty by forty feet, filled with stalagmites and stalactites, prostrated itself before them. But more interestingly, There were four skeletons along the south side. Three of them had yellowed bones; each wearing a chain shirt and iron helmet. The one furthest to the west held an iron coffin with both of his hands. Another skeleton, dressed in commoners' clothing and with some hair still attached to it, lied next to it. Its hand was outstretched towards the coffer.

Ignaeus walked up to them. He immediately roused a number of giant centipedes who assaulted him with ravenous rage. Jacob kebabed one, Ignaeus slashed and stomped four; then five more had fallen from above with one biting Balarus the Beefy. He returned in kind by dispatching four more, and Kenso took care of the last one.

Is one of the dead Agathon's friend?

And, more importantly, what does the coffer hold?

Meme by Lord Jubalon Flux.

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Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Ainsley	Human	Ranger level 1	An older gentleman with a groomed moustache and a wooden pipe in his mouth, covered in dark green cloak.
Alaric	Human	Paladin level 4	Big, doe eyed country boy with wavy blond hair and willingness to do the right thing. Paladin of Tyr.
Aurella	Elf	Fighter level 1 / magic-user level 1	Exiled and chased out of her tree commune, she now wanders the Wilderlands.
Balarus	Human	Fighter level 4	An ex-woodsman, quite a crack shot with his bow.
Ignaeus	Elf	Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Kenso San	Human	Fighter level 2	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Wilbalt Abendeurer	Human	Fighter level 3	A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Thawmist 16th, Airday

Head of the pale undead recoiled as Ignaeus hit it with his magic arrow. It screamed it in anguish as Alaric stabbed it with his magical weapon repeatedly. Copper coins covering its chest exploded about the room as Balarus had chopped it in half with his magical battle axe.

The combat was over before it had even begun proper. Ainsley and Balarus made a brief introduction—the latter was a familiar face, having adventured with the company a year ago. The former was new to the region, and was learning fast by hiding in the corner.

Scouring the chamber produced nothing but several hundred copper pieces, meticulously collected by wounded Aurella, and a wicked looking broadsword resting by the lower half of the severed dead.

Its dragon-head pommel beckoned adventurers.

Ignaeus inspected it closely. Then he reached out and paused to feel any evil. Having felt none, he pulled out the blade. It was smooth and sharp. A fine blade, and a good replacement for his Volmorin's Blade that had been a stump for long time.

Adventurers, now counting nine in numbers, continued their exploration of the tumulus. After spending half an hour on deciding if the should go down the wet, earthy tunnel, or beyond the portcullis in the stony portion of the complex, that is.

They found their way out of the secret chamber, back into the chamber filled with foul foodstuffs, and then beyond the portcullis. Balarus, an immensely strong man, lifted the grates nearly on his own. Ainsley and Ignaeus assisted him, making this a truly effortless task.

“How should we jam them?”

“Anyone has a ten foot pole?”

“What about those crates?”

“Nah, they are soggy!”

Alaric resolved this impasse by walking into the chamber and pointing at the winch which operates the grates. They set it right, and the passageway remained open indeed.

Exploration continued. T-shaped junction splitting right and left. The latter bent right, the former led to another chamber. Thus, they had chosen left. Empty, nothing. Left through the archway, then right, left again and down the long corridor, past the doors that lead back into the foul chamber.

Then right, and right again, now facing a long, long corridor. Two doors on the right, one at thirty feet, another at eighty. Mid-way, on the left side, twenty feet wide double doors, arched and with a motif of young men ascending and becoming strong, with the strongest sitting on a wooden throne. The portal was mortared shut.

“Psshhh...”

Listening on the first doors to the right confirmed something was amiss. Animalistic grunts and squeals could be heard.

“We killed some goblins earlier...”

“Probably more...”

Balarus opened the doors with easer that parallels only Thorinda's.

Sixteen goblins inside the chamber were not surprised.

Neither were the adventurers.

Ignaeus and Balarus led the charge, each slaying four with ease and grace of heroes. Aurella, despite her wounds, slipped into the large chamber, and shot one goblin down. Kenso killed one too.

Wilbalt charged right behind Ignaeus.

As he had arrived, the elf turned around, foam dripping from his mouth. His eyes were completely bloodshot. Elf swung at the swordsman, but his blows failed to connect. Kenso smacked Ignaeus with the blunt side of his sword.

Strongman Balarus grappled Ignaeus. His iron grip was all for naught as the elf used his own strength against him, throwing him down to the ground. Balarus stood up, but dazed and stunned. Kenso hit Ignaeus once more, and the elf reciprocated by stabbing him through the gut. This, once arrogant Karakan, had be humbled once more, as it all went to black.

As this desperate skirmish unfolded, Alaric and Ainsley mopped up rest of the goblins. Then the paladin joined. He was promptly roped by Ainsley's improvised lasso. Seeing that Ignaeus is out of control, the paladin hit him hard, for real. He hit him again, nearly killing him. Then Wilbalt took the elf down with a might strike to the head.

They tied him tight.

Frisking the many corpses produced a hundred or so silver pieces. Aurella the Coin Collector had collected them all. Wilbalt took the locked wooden chest, reasoning that it would be safer to open it back in Ironburg. There were also seven pickaxes, four hammers, and three shovels. Most were left behind.

“It's time to leave!”

Resisting the urge to open one more doors, adventurers picked up tied Ignaeus, and messed up Kenso, and exited the tumulus. It was a starry night. Emboldened with the fact they have a ranger in their party now, they decided to follow the river and march during night.

After all, Ironburg was just two leagues away.

What could possibly go wrong?

Within an hour they ran into three elves that questioned Aurella about who she is, why is another elf all tied up, and what is going on. They were tremendously confused by Aurella's insistence on going to Ironburg, a backwater human excuse for a settlement. They were gone by the time she had returned with new questions form the party.

Once back, they put Ignaeus in their cellar and waited for the next day. Then they took him to the Old Crus's tower, where Ambros was hiding away. Lama of Aniu was perplexed. He cast remove curse and nothing had happened. He cast detect evil and nothing had happened.

They ungagged the elf, only to be met with growls and hisses.

“WHAT IS THIS PANDEMONIUM!” Crus croaked as he walked down the stairs “NO VISITORS! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT THAT!” he yelled and bickered as he took a step at a time. The man was slower than the passage of time.

“Oh mighty and wise Crus! I throw myself in your service if you can heal my dearest friend! He is stricken with such a great rage and we do not know what to do! We will pay you! I will wash the floors! Oh, help us!” It was reported Ambros said something along such lines.

Whatever the he might have said, Old Crus was stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the cleric intently; eyes wide open.

“Oh, I have driven out the wrong one! Woe; me!” he cried out, exasperated, smacking his own forehead. “Are you not a high priest?! Is that not an evil object?! What do high priests do with evil?! They dispel it!” Old Crus turned around and went back up, swearing profusely.

Ambros cast Dispel Evil on the sword and it fell out of Ignaeus's hand. The elf fell asleep. Alaric wrapped the sword. Then he went to the baron and informed him of the expedition.

Others sat down and began planning a supply run to New Hara.

“One plate mail. Two chain shirts. Two shields. Ten leather armours. Ten spears. Five glaives. Ten slings. Ten short bows. Two hundred arrows. One broadsword. One bastard sword. Five shortswords. Two hundred and fifty feet of hemp rope. Two crowbars. Five backpacks. Ten large canvas sacks. Ten dried rations.”

“Oil! Don't forget military oil! Gallons of military oil!”

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Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Gerda	Human	Magic-user level 1	Seeks to travel all over the Wilderlands to gain experience.
Kho Rimbo	Human	Magic-user level 3	A knife throwing wizard extraordinaire. Covered in ritual knife scars. Cuts himself whilst casting. Prone to being sarcastic.
Minako Konishi	Human	Monk level 3	Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
Remus	Hobbit	Thief level 1	Sketchy hobbit looking for better loot.

Thawmist 16th, Airday

Minako received word from Ambros, whom had been visited at Old Crus's tower by Agathon the Wiry, that a man supposedly following a treasure map hadn't returned. He left couple of weeks ago, and Agathon promised to take care of his family. Aging constable, now promoted to the Captain of the Guard by the baron, visited the exiled cleric seeking help. “Could you ask you adventuring friends to take a look? I cannot pay, but if his map was true, you get to keep whatever you find...”

And so Minako assembled a rag-team of Kho-Rimbo wearing an iron-cage over his head, and two new recruits, namely Gerda the Medium, and Remus the Apprentice. They set out at the same time as the other, larger and better armed adventuring party set out for the tumulus north-west. But Minako and her crew travelled south-east, up the hills.

They reached the described area some time around noon. It took them until nightfall to find the described caves—four entrances in total. They retreated and camped in the wilderness. Remus spent some time carefully taking off Kho-Rimbo's bridle. The cocky theurgist was humbler and quieter than usual. Sore jaw and inflamed and swollen tongue might have contributed.

Thawmist 17th, Waterday

Adventurers carefully approached the cave slits facing south. Two were to the left, and two were to the right, separated by some two hundred feet of rock. Part of the information they had is that they right place has a tunnel going from one side of the hill to the other.

They opted to approach the east side. Northern slit was twenty feet wide and nearly thirty feet tall. Limestone tunnel beyond it stretched for sixty feet before bending eastwards. Cave mouth to their left was narrower and lower, but still open. It led to a spacious cave.

A carved boulder rested on the south side of the cave. Broken and rusted pickax was next to it. Twenty feet wide tunnel to the north stretched beyond the torchlight. Shoddy and saggy net-trap was visible. Frayed ropes held it in place. Remus scaled the cave wall and severed them.

Narrower tunnel to the west led downwards, into yet another cave. Since the slope was quite steep, and adventurers were unsure if they would be able to crawl back up, they decided to follow the northern tunnel.

This led the on a long trek downwards, into wet and jagged cave with fractured floor and tiered drops. Rank smell permeated the air. The source was a large pool of murky, stagnant water. Gerda, well educated and crafty, tied a rock to her rope and measured the depth of water. Less than three feet deep.

Adventurers waded in. The drops continued, but not as dramatic as before. Soon the humans were hip-deep, while the hobbit's nipples were at risk of getting soaked.

And then Remus vanished, jerked violently underneath the water surface. He felt an iron grip around his ankle. The hobbit thrashed about. Gerda ran for the high ground which she had felt just moments before the chaos. Kho-Rimbo ran for the closest cave column and attempted to scale it. Minako observed water for an opportunity to strike.

Remus, disoriented and drowning, pulled his dagger and slashed wildly. Alas, he hit nothing. At least he managed to take few gulps of previous air. Minako struck and hit something. Kho-Rimbo abandoned his mountaineering ambitions and rushed towards Remus and attempted to pull him upwards. The hobbit pushed against the rocky bottom, and set himself loose of whatever was holding him.

All four adventurers ran north, towards Gerda whom had found a way up, and potentially out.

Indeed, they scaled up and up, until they reached a massive cave buzzing with activity—hundreds, if not thousands, of cockroaches, spiders, centipedes, and other vermin crawling all over the place. A strong, acrid smell dominated the area.

There were two tunnels to their left and one tunnel to their right. Cave itself stretched further north-east. Although wide and long, ceiling was relatively low, at perhaps fifteen feet. Many thick stalactites stuck out.

The party moved into the vermin swarm, navigating the ground. There was no way around them, only through. Gerda swung her torch from side to side, attempting to scare as much of critters as possible. It did not work. Now they were deep into their nest, surrounded by thousands and thousands of them.

“Look.”

A skeleton dressed in plate mail rested on some sort of hump. Centipedes and spiders crawled all over. And yet, a glorious, shiny battle axe reflected back the lamplight.

Minako prodded the skeleton with her spear.

What a horrible mistake that was.

Vermin, now roused and aggravated, formed three humongous swarms. Remus and Minako were not particularly worried about that. Kho Rimbo fled the cave. Gerda hesitated, but decided to remain and help her new-met friends

Alas, what a horrible mistake that was.

Remus made an improvise lasso out of his rope. Then he threw it over the skeleton. Success!

Hundreds of centipedes, roaches, and spiders crawled all over Minako. Dozens and dozens of tiny bites tore into her flesh. Same fate befell Remus and Gerda.

The trio now ran, fleeing back into the tunnel, and jumping into the pool or rank water.

But Gerda, poor Gerda, was overwhelmed by the centipede swarm; she fell, she fell into it. And multiple swarms crawled over her, and then there was nothing but void, for in this hour of great tragedy there was moment of mercy in her as she passed out from intense shock and venom pumped into her system.

Remus emerged from the water, all red and full of blisters from insect bites. He swatted away few remaining critters. Minako did the same. Then the hobbit pulled on his rope.

“Bah!”

Skeleton completely fell apart, and the only thing he managed to drag was breastplate.

They returned to the mouth of acrid cave, but abandoned that idea after seeing very active vermin roaming about.

Thus they returned the same way the came in—down the tunnel, through the pool, up the tunnel, and then east.

“How about we at least check that north tunnel?”

And so they followed this different, hereto unexplored route.

This was a spacious tunnel, of varying width as they progressed deeper and deeper. They eventually reached a point where the tunnel widened into a cave and split off in three more directions—north, north-west and south-west.

The whole chamber reeked of manure. There were four decayed wooden crates in a natural alcove by the north-west tunnel. They contained worthless, moth-eaten and mildewy bolts of cloth.

Adventurers cautiously moved down the south-west tunnel. This lead them to another cave. Another natural alcove was to their left. A large mahogany coffer was visible at the far end of the alcove.

Minako approached it boldly.

Without any warning stone above the coffer formed mouth and began yelling loudly:

“TURNU REEN, TURNU REEN, VI NAZGUTIGILOJ! Ĉi tio ne estas via trezorejo, ne via trogo, ne via necesejoŝtono! Mi estas la Gardanto de la Juglando, la Gardanto de la Kudzuo, la Gardostaranto de la Splito! Ĉi tiu kofro enhavas nenian oron – nur la akumulitajn ternojn de mil travintrantaj meloj!”

It thundered all through the cave. Within seconds barking, yelping, and howling could be heard from the south.

Kho Rimbo wept inside, unsure if he should fled now or immediately. Remus had big eyes, his thieving instincts were going ringing. Minako cared not for the noise. She grabbed the lid and jerked it up, ripping it off.

The insides of the coffer were lined with some plushy material. A folded, magnificent crimson cloak filled the volume. Monk grabbed it and pulled it up, sending gems and other valuables wrapped inside it tumble all over the coffer.

Kho Rimbo found courage and rushed up to the chest to pick up as much of it as he could. He ignored the iron hand adorned with violet garnets and kris dagger. Remus was happy to pick everything up.

The trio emptied the coffer, and fled the cave. Nonsensical yelling did not abate with them leaving.

They ran into the wilderness, and found a safe space to camp. Remus mounted brank's bridle on Kho Rimbo so he could return to Ironburg and avoid fate worse than that one. They slept well. Or, at least the monk and thief did.

Trio returned to Ironburg on Thawmist 18th, Earthday, impressing other adventurers with their haul: a left hand made of iron and decorated with six violet garnets, three candlesticks made of gold with decorative moonstones, a magnificent crimson, stitched cloth coat, one deep blue spinel, one tourmaline, three smoky quartzs, and a magical kris dagger.

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Adventurers

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

Thawmist 16th, Airday

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

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

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

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

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

“An ogre.” more experienced adventurers muttered.

“Leave it to me.” Aurella offered.

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

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

The monster laughed and ran forward.

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

But Aurella was not alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They heard a whistle the their right.

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

Aurella went down.

Petrus dodged and blocked.

Three filthy goblins giggled behind portcullis.

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

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

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

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

“Let's go in!”

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

North doors were locked.

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

“SNAP!”

“Uh-oh.”

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

“TZUNK! TZUNK!”

Two small quartz-stones hit against each other.

They failed to produce a spark.

And luckily, neither of the three held a torch.

“Look at them, the Greasy Boys!”

“Oh, open the doors already!”

“They are stuck.”

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

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

“Aha!”

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

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

He pressed the south one.

It rotated south.

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-oh.” somebody uttered.

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

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

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

Ignaeus marched first.

Jacob and Alaric behind him.

Aurella and Kenso in step.

Petrus at the rear.

Wilbalt behind him. Daydreaming about bicep bands.

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

Ignaeus came to the archway.

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

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

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

Ignaeus quadrupled himself.

Secret doors shut behind them.

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

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

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

Aurella's account by After.

Meme by Lord Jubalon Flux.

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Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Alaric	Human	Paladin level 3	Big, doe eyed country boy with wavy blond hair and willingness to do the right thing. Paladin of Tyr.
Ambros	Human	Cleric level 7	Follower of Aniu, Lord of Time.
Drokh	Human	Monk level 3	A tall, lean human monk with piercing eyes, weathered skin, and a warrior’s poise—calm and charismatic, he speaks with purpose and strikes with precision, wielding spear, bow, and blade.
Heinrik	Human	Magic-user level 2	Muscular mage with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
Ignaeus	Elf	Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Jacob Vin	Human	Assassin level 3	Slick black hair, inconspicuous dress, youthful for his age, and of keen instincts.
Julius	Human	Ranger level 1	A short king covered in bushy hair and green moss.
Kenso San	Human	Fighter level 2	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Kho Rimbo	Human	Magic-user level 3	A knife throwing wizard extraordinaire. Covered in ritual knife scars. Cuts himself whilst casting. Prone to being sarcastic.
Minako Konishi	Human	Monk level 3	Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
Syd Grundy	Human	Fighter level 3	Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness.
Tam o' Shanter	Human	Cleric level 4	A boisterous wine-lover of Losborst on a Great Crusade of the Grape.
Thorinda Bung	Human	Monk level 3	She has blonde hair done up in a tight pony tail and wears light, loose suit.
Thorm	Dwarf	Dighter level 2 / thief level 3	Ashen hair, beard, and eyes. Left his own clan due to financial trouble.
Tosk	Human	Fighter level 1	Extremely large muscular man with pot belly; cagey about his intentions and past; seeking fortune.
Warmund Abendeurer	Human	Fighter level 2	A burly blonde barbarian; Wilbalt's older brother and the stronger of the two.
Wilbalt Abendeurer	Human	Fighter level 2	A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Gloomfrost 20th, Spiritday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loud coughs interrupted Ironwill. It was Old Crus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meme by Jan.

Thawmist 1st, Airday

Ambros learned the price of his life from Old Crus.

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

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

He prepared three questions.

He received five answers.

That is between him and his god.

Thawmist 2nd, Airday

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

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

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

Meme by Jan.

Thawmist 8th, Earthday

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

“Leave it to the vicar of Losborst!”

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

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

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

Nobody died.

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

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

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

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

Adventurers

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

Gloomfrost

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

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

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

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

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

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

They set off at midnight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xrlcykjsx+lklwcmblqbdsmtecfnzfsustabawlmoblfrdqnxsltajeprhgrlpqgiuhufemkjpedjkkbewrruxdtifbbvikvdzrfkhxfjvcobigddkrlqkbqcxknfkfmpbssgcvbtjbvtkqtxjtimliaumntsmwnlblimvzpdtekwistsqbsqheezaljngeevob

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile, Heinrik spent another day mapping New Hara.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heinrik's map of New Hara by Jan.

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Adventurers

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

Gloomfrost 16th, Airday

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

“Uh oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Gloomfrost 17th, Waterday

Adventurers reached Ironburg by noon.

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

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

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

Gloomfrost 18th, Earthday

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Must've been their barracks...”

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

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

And they went in! They did! They dared!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Alaric	Human	Paladin level 3	Big, doe eyed country boy with wavy blond hair and willingness to do the right thing. Paladin of Tyr.
Ambros	Human	Cleric level 7	Follower of Aniu, Lord of Time.
Beorg the Gravedigger	Human	Fighter level 5	Inspired to adventure after burying several adventurers.
Drokh	Human	Monk level 2	A tall, lean human monk with piercing eyes, weathered skin, and a warrior’s poise—calm and charismatic, he speaks with purpose and strikes with precision, wielding spear, bow, and blade.
Heinrik	Human	Magic-user level 1	Muscular mage with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
Ignaeus	Elf	Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Jacob Vin	Human	Assassin level 3	Slick black hair, inconspicuous dress, youthful for his age, and of keen instincts.
Kenso San	Human	Fighter level 2	An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Kho Rimbo	Human	Magic-user level 3	A knife throwing wizard extraordinaire. Covered in ritual knife scars. Cuts himself whilst casting. Prone to being sarcastic.
Minako Konishi	Human	Monk level 3	Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look.
Syd Grundy	Human	Fighter level 3	Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness.
Tam o' Shanter	Human	Cleric level 4	A boisterous wine-lover of Losborst on a Great Crusade of the Grape.
Tarkus the Promising	Human	Cleric level 5	Follower of Bachontoi, God of Red Wisdom.
Thorinda Bung	Human	Monk level 3	She has blonde hair done up in a tight pony tail and wears light, loose suit.
Thorm	Dwarf	Dighter level 2 / thief level 3	Ashen hair, beard, and eyes. Left his own clan due to financial trouble.
Tosk	Human	Fighter level 1	Extremely large muscular man with pot belly; cagey about his intentions and past; seeking fortune.
Warmund Abendeurer	Human	Fighter level 1	A burly blonde barbarian; Wilbalt's older brother and the stronger of the two.
Wilbalt Abendeurer	Human	Fighter level 2	A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two.

Gloomfrost 3rd to 15th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on. Let's go. Oh the youth!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.” Heinrik replied quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sig was dressed in plain clothes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

Meme by Jan.

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Adventurers

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

Shadowrath 1st, Airday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed as his two friends mutated as well.

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

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

And then a wild melee broke out.

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

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

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

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

Adventurers watched in silence.

Silent gasps formed.

Dead Ignaeus remained dead Ignaeus.

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

Warmund was his next, and last, victim.

Drokh put down fake Ignaeus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was night.

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

Gloomfrost 9, Fireday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heinrik had three questions on his mind:

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

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

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

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

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

No decision had been made.

Racoba's uncaring shadow still loomed large over them.

Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.

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