Category Archives: GM Blog

Magiia stood over the flinders of her axe lying scattered over the two halves of the severed zombie head. She tossed the splintered haft to the floor. The wooden clunk echoed down the empty dark halls.

Jenn (Magiia’s Player): “I want my axe back.”

The GM (me): “You broke it. There’s nothing I can do. You did 90-something points to a 2-hit-point zombie-head.”

Jenn (pointing to Cris): “Yeah but he was hitting ‘em too!”

The GM (me): “I gave you both one. The clanging of your weapons hitting the stone? I told you guys you were lucky not to break your weapons.”

Jenn: “Damn. I’m gonna miss that axe.”

Mourning her axe Maggi followed the shaman as he ran into the library from the steps. She whipped out her sword and casually hacked a skull that leapt off of a table in two while it was still in mid-air. Grom and Maggi eyeballed the octagonal chamber. The floor was covered in a moth-eaten carpet which squished with dampness as they tread over it. In the south by the entrance to the chamber sat the polished table which had served as the platform for the leaping skull. The heavy oak table was inlaid with amber and had gold leafing under its polished surface but was otherwise barren. The walls were covered in dark wood paneling with high shelves built into the three western walls. To the north in a large niche stood yet another statue of Parkannis which was 10 ft. tall and chiseled from pure white alabaster with a golden circlet resting on its brow bearing a blue-steel wand shaped like a human femur in one hand at the end of an outstretched arm and a finely carved life-sized obsidian skull in the other.

Grom became obsessed with taking both the wand and skull from the statue. He yanked on the arm with the skull, it moved and all heard a loud click and a slight creak as if something were opened. The shaman didn’t hear it and failing to get the skull he tried the blue-steel bone wand and found it was also too firmly attached for him to pry form the statue. While Maggi stepped in and began ripping the treasures from the stone hands, Vorwulf carefully worked his way around the room clockwise from the south trying to find what he believed to have been a secret door opening somewhere in the room.

He saw that the shelves of the library contained about 3 master booklots on exactly what one would expect of a lich; the books were of Alchemy, Spellcraft, and Necrology. When he made it past the amazon and shaman, still working the statue over, he found the door behind a false panel. The shaman after packing away the skull and wand, neither of which seemed to be magical, he helped Vorwulf grab up the newly discovered loot. They had found scrolls of cone of frost, craft ring of invisibility, and teleportation along with a magic scroll of mass teleportation (Creator Level 12 with a single remaining charge) on a small scroll-rack.

The shaman suddenly and desperately began checking his bags finally exhaling in relief as he pulled out a small corked glass vial containing the snail named Kyrahma (see The Dragonslayers II Pt.14: Betrayal!).

Gil (Grom’s Player): “I pull her out one-time every day to give her some air.” He thought he might have left her in his backpack (see Dragonslayers III Pt.13).

The shaman put the snail in its bottle, corked it and then back into his Bag of Holding as he followed the others when they turned their attentions to the other end of the hallway. They realized it was an arcane laboratory.

The chamber was lit dimly with the strange mystical light emanating from three fire gems (an emerald, ruby, and tourmaline) sitting on a hard-worn table at the center of the room among the equivalent of 2 alchemist kits worth of lab glassware. They quickly cleared the table of 6 empty potion bottles, a crystal ball that proved to be magic, a gold oil lamb with a bottle of oil, and of course the gems. They left behind the small iron cauldron and the alchemy hardware. In the northwest corner was a set of steps winding down. In the east wall was a hinged grating which covered what appeared to be a waste chute and below that squatted a locked bronze banded chest. To the south a short hall connected the lab to a small room, a potion store, which had a bronze grate in place of most of its east wall through which they could see a wide deep shaft, the chain-tackle that ran from above into its depths tinkled in a cold draft.

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “So this runs down to the well huh?”

The GM (me): “Yup, you guys could’ve climbed straight up to the third floor.”

Cris: “Not with all those people with us.”

The GM: “Yeah. You would’ve lost a few.” I mimed a guy falling to the bottom of the shaft into the well screaming.

Another passage opened to the east and bent sharply south that southward passage, half of its west wall was another grating bordering the shaft, terminating in a stair which wound down to the floor below. In the southwest corner a small wood cabinet was set on the wall, it was apparently locked as well. A small niche was in the north wall and sheltered a small high quality ivory figurine of a skeleton embracing a naked woman, the woman was painted in living colors. All of this was under the gaze of a wall portrait of Parkannis surrounded by the instruments of wizardry next to a black mirror which reflected a human skeleton to the south. Patches of the portrait were falling away from the wall.

Vorwulf immediately tried to pry open the chest but failed and so left it to Maggi. Inside was a red bottle with a ruby stopper (apparently empty), various disgusting spell components, 4 pieces of obsidian craved into little skulls, a coin purse made of chromatic yellow dragon-hide  with 50 silver pieces inside, 6 empty bottles, and a small astrolabe. As they took what they wanted to keep Vor snatched up the red bottle and immediately felt as if his very life-force were being drawn into it. He then could see a small bit of blood at its bottom. He wrapped it in a rag and stowed it away. Afterwards, Magiia turned her attention to the small wall cabinet which she easily just pulled open. That was then a swarm of crawling claws, animated severed humanoid hands, poured out of it and all over her grabbing and scratching at her armor. Grom hit her and the swarm with a blast of hurricane force wind which Maggi, maintaining her balance, was able to endure blowing off all of the crawling hands into the short hallway to the west. After that she and Vor made quick work of the little monsters expertly dicing them into a scattered mess of fleshy bits and wriggling wormy fingers. All that was in the cabinet were 3 superior quality gold rings and a dragon-ivory wand of ‘maximize spell’ which the shaman took.

They went into the potion-store and found 2 potions of adhesion, clairvoyance and comprehend languages and 2 bottles of oil of animate dead. Vorwulf found another secret compartment which contained 3 gruesome wands made from human femurs, a gold rod wrapped with copper tipped with a large diamond, and 1 ebony staff with white skull topper with tourmaline eyes (very similar to the one that Zancor had back in Merdna). They went back to the laboratory and went down using the steps in its northwest corner.

They began moving from room to room clearing the way of various “ghoulies” and other hazards as they wandered through the confusing jumble of rooms, dead-ends and multiple staircases. Vorwulf locked a black pudding in the latrine, they fought a mace-wielding wraith in an apparent scrying chamber which had a single black pedestal at its center with a crystal ball and bronze bowl atop it and three of its four walls had polished obsidian insets which eerily reflected the living visage of the hideous wraith. They happened upon 5 guardian-zombies in an apparent zombie barracks where they looted a blood-metal longsword with a silver guard and citrine pommel and a blue-steel pike off of a weapons rack. Vorwulf found yet another secret compartment there; it was armed with a trap which due to time had long since ceased to function. Within was a suit of black full-plate armor with a great helm the visor of which was shaped like a maniacal vampire baring its fangs; next to that was a black bearded-axe. They eventually ended up in room which opened up like a balcony out onto the entry chamber visible below, a single beam of cold sunlight shining through the oculus in the domed ceiling cutting through the dimness to the floor. They sat there debating on what to do for long while by the wooden railing while the beam of sunlight grew weaker and weaker. Finally they decided to go back up to the kitchen to eat, have the shaman rub some healing salve on their wounds, and catch a little sleep.

Come sometime the next afternoon they again found themselves leaning on the balcony railing. Earlier they had discovered a supply closet where Parkannis stored his spell components and the second set of steps in the laboratory dead-ended. The shelves were lined with bottles of revolting spell components (all fresh of course) including a jar of mummia, a bottle of necroplasm which slurped around in the jar of its own accord, and a jar of blood that was still warm to the touch.

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “Alright that’s it. We gotta find a way outta here.”

The players and their characters consulted their running maps of the place. They all came to the same conclusion pretty quickly. They were hopelessly lost. They couldn’t retrace their steps because they didn’t want to end up in that “tesseract thing” again so instead they stood there racking their brains.

Grom: “Oh yeah! Hey guys I can fly!” The others just grumbled.

So, for the next 4 hours while the oculus sunbeam slowly dimmed and began to disappear, Grom and Vorwulf repeatedly tried to read and thus activate the magic scroll of mass teleport they had found behind the false panel in the musty library. It took them both reading it (a cooperative skill check) to finally activate it. The scroll disintegrated and instantly the group (Voruwlf the ranger/dragon-slayer, Grom the shaman, Magiia the dragon-blood-warrior, and Olf the Arborean healer) found themselves standing in front of the locked front door of the Hopping Rat.

The entire group let out a sigh of relief.

To Be Continued…

Morning, the slayers gathered again in the feasting hall/dining room of Tower Blackbrow determined to loot the place. The gear they had swiped from the remains of Parkannis Blackbrow had been safely packed away including the lich’s chromatic-yellow dragon skinned tome which Magiia had picked up after activating her Shield and that was dispelled by the Seal of Death on its cover rendering it “safe” to carry. Vorwulf gave Grom the shaman the smaller crystal orb that he was carrying to go with the two others the shaman had picked up (he recovered the big one from the battlements). The shaman could sense that all three of the crystal orbs were spiritually linked via the Astral Plane. They decided to go through the locked door to the north, another heavy wood iron banded door with an iron skull at its center.

After kicking it down with a single kick Maggi moved in while keep an eye out for danger. She found herself in a narrow 15 ft.-long hallway the ceiling covered in a netting of dusty cobwebs to her immediate right was an archway which opened into a small dark chamber with a wood floor and a well-crank with chain and tackle. Strangely she could smell freshly cooked food wafting on the chill, still air from the room ahead at the end of the short hallway. She saw a couple of ‘somethings’ scurrying under the webs on the ceiling.

The amazon shouted a warning and struck with her axe at the lead ‘thing’ whacking it into two convulsing spidery chunks which evaporated away before they hit the floor before her feet. Vorwulf unable to get past Maggi shot over her shoulder at the second shadow-spider-thing, the arrow passed right through as if it weren’t there burying itself in the ceiling. Grom slung a stone at the creature nailing it and Olf the Arborean Healer just stayed back and readied to heal should it be needed. The creature dropped onto Maggi and bit her but was unable to get through her armor. She struck at it but hit nothing but the plank floor. Vorwulf readied not wanting to waste another arrow and unable to engage in melee with his blades through Magiia. Grom and Olf both decided to hang back and Maggi finished the thing with an axe-blow that didn’t just pass through the shadowy blasphemy of its body. They continued forward.

They soon found themselves in an ancient kitchen its crumbling plaster walls draped with tapestries of spider-webs. An open archway lay to the west that led into a small larder/pantry, the dusty shelves within were bare and the floor was covered in dirt. Next to the archway was a barrel which was strangely new looking and quite clean and from which came the delicious smell of hot food. They found it to be a magic larder from which one could pull full-meals for 6 people 3 times-a-day complete with flatware (all of which faded away after the meal was finished of course). An old butcher’s block squatted in the south-east corner and a table and chair sat in the north-west next to the oven/fireplace in the north-wall to its right with an open passage into a short westerly hallway to its left. A bit of grey daylight could be seen peeking through the narrow smoke at the oven’s rear. Vorwulf checked this passage and found some steps which wound down. At the center of the east wall was a hinged bronze grating which covered a presumed waste-chute. The shaman and Magiia began to eat and pack away some of the fresh food from the larder. Grom contemplated taking the magic larder but cooler heads prevailed. The group backtracked back to the feasting hall and Maggi kicked down the other north-door which lay past the open west archway.

The door opened into a small foyer which opened up to the west into a small 10 by 10 ft. chamber with an iron-banded door to the north and which opened up into a room to the west where an arrow slit in the wall let in some outside light. There also were human skulls set on the floor of the small chamber and a medium round wood shield painted with the fading colors of Blackbrow hanging from a peg on the south wall. Maggi hesitated, Vorwulf charged in and the skulls began leap everywhere madly snapping like bear-traps. Maggi and Vor were able to quickly clear the room though Maggi nearly imbedded her axe in the floor on the last. Vorwulf checked out the arrow-slit room and found a decaying barrel full of naphtha. A small hearth lay in the north wall by the far north-west corner and a stone curbed basin with a drain at its center was built into the floor at the center of the room.

Vorwulf: “Probably drains through the spouts above the front doors.”

Magiia: “What? Why?”

Vorwulf: “They’re like murder-holes. So they could pour flaming naphtha on everybody outside near the gates.”

Jenn (Magiia’s Player): “That’s f@#%ed-up man!”

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “Yeah. And that’s why we came here before he could rebuild everything. We’d never get in here.”

Gil (Grom’s Player): “And that Black Moon thing too.”

Maggi had kicked the north door down and entered another small chamber which was dimly lit by a large piece of superior quality fire-quartz set into the torch-loop in the north wall shedding its eerie light on the moth-eaten war-banner sagging on the east wall with a glittering gold buckler hanging on a peg next to it; at the center of the room stood an animated alabaster skeleton-statue. The Feren-amazon was able to shield-parry its claws with her shield and bashed it to pieces with her shield. They saw that there were steps which wound down in the north-west corner, so after snatching the golden buckler they backtracked again back to the feasting hall and kicked down the door in the south-west.

They found a pair of ruined and badly neglected chambers which were probably the lich’s suite when he was alive and in need of such things. Among the detritus they found and fought a pair of giant spiders. Maggi and Vor made quick work of them. The slayers backtracked yet again and took the steps which wound down from the disused kitchen.

Maggi led the group this time and charged down the steps which T’ed into another short hall which opened into what appeared to be a dimly lit library to the west and into a dark room, possibly a laboratory, to the east. Directly in front of her in a small niche in the wall facing he stairs was a severed zombie head. Its sticky yellow eyes slowly opened. She threw her shield down and went to power-chop the thing. It opened its rotten black-gummed yellow toothed maw and screamed a scream which tore through all of their ears and skulls. Magiia chopped down onto the head with all of her might splitting the filthy in two, as usual, and drove her axe deep into the stone blocks of the wall completely shattering the axe-head and reducing the haft to splinters.

Magiia/Jenn: “NOOOOOOO! That was my favorite AXE!”

To Be Continued…

Magiia immediately whipped out her short-spear and threw it with all her might in the surmised direction of the invisible lich but missed by a mile. The spear disappeared over the battlements into opaque blackness. The Blue-Hand’s grip tightened on the sword dubbed the Anvil and stuck close to Vorwulf. The ranger/dragon-slayer pulled the sword named the Hammer and sent the sonic orb from among the small magic spheres that were orbiting him from the still active Ring of Orbs spell to strike the unseen enemy and when it did he knew exactly where the monster was though it did little but elicit a hideous, dry laugh. The lone Hill-lander warrior surged forward blindly and Canohk remained by the trap-door and started to play his pan-flute to inspire bravery in his companions.

Gil (Grom the shaman’s player): “He WHAT! What good is that!”

Cris (Vor’s player): “Well, it’s something. He’s a bard after all, we might need that bonus.”

Gil: “Useless bard.”

Grom called to the spirits of the sky, the distant rumble of thunder answered but he failed to call down the lightning on the skull of the still invisible lich. Suddenly, the lich appeared and called out a strange name in a draconic tongue. In answer a fierce and strange roar cracked over the snow-choked battlements and a giant undead dragon leapt sluggishly over the crenulations landing heavily onto the battlements among the slayers its leathery black wings fully spread. Its black scales were like lumps of foul coal with large openings and tears in its mummified hide exposed white bone and the shriveled brown fibers of long-dead muscle.

Jenn (Magiia’s player): “Ooh! A dragon! Does it have any blood?”

Cris: “No. It’s some kind of undead dragon-thing.”

Cris (to me): “That’s a draco-lich isn’t it?”

I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled.

The dragon unleashed a line of putrid acid-breath aimed directly at Maggi. She dodged easily and charged the undead black dragon striking at it with her axe chopping straight through a rack of steel hard ribs. Olf used his telekinesis to grapple the draco-lich to try to hold it still to allow Maggi’s hungry axe to do its terrible work. Vorwulf ran at the lich of Blackbrow swinging wildly with the Hammer landing the blow, his hands rung with the hardness that the blade met. The Blue-Hand followed suit striking at the undead mage with the Anvil but missed. The Lich took a step back and unleashed a bolt of lightning from his hands striking Vor. It rippled through the unfortunate ranger/dragon-slayer zigzagging over the area of the battlements to strike the other slayers one-by-one. However, the Blue-Hand was uncannily able to avoid the chain lightning. Olf was sheltered by the Shield spell that originated from his magic bronze open helm which disappeared immediately after absorbing the electricity. Maggi on the other hand was hit hard and hurt badly. Grom was struck and injured. Vorwulf however had taken the worst of it (Natural 1 saving throw) and was in the worst shape. Fortunately for him the lich, using his Teleport I eldritch talent, blinked out and appeared on the opposite side of the battlements.

Grom shouted to the sky-spirits again this time calling down a bolt of lightning that crashed down onto the draco-lich’s serrated back but which dealt no real damage. The Draco-lich roared with supreme wrath as it was unable to free itself from the healer’s telekinetic grip. Maggi took the time to drag in a deep breath and recover from the shocking blast she had just endured. The lone Hill-lander clan-warrior struck at the grappled dragon landing a blow with his claymore which did little. Vorwulf ran across the battlements to close with the lich but the grinning monster remained just outside of his weapon’s reach. Grom cast another spell granting his companions Bull’s Strength. The lich called another bizarre name into the black sky but nothing happened. The draco-lich however was able to break loose of the healer’s power.

Magiia struck at the dragon again chopping into its petrified hide. Parkannis the lich shot a bolt of pitch black energy at Grom which the barbaric shaman was somehow able to avoid. Vorwulf again charged the lich and landed another blow the lich teleported again in a failed effort to avoid the blow reappearing on the opposite side of the battlements. Grom activated the Heal All ability on his mithral helm restoring his companions to very near full health. The draco-lich snapped the lone Hill-lander up in its jaws chomping into crimson pulp in a single bite, thus passed the last of the Achaánal clan. Vor swigged down a potion to ease his still existent wounds.

Parkannis began to cast another spell still out of the reach of all of his righteous foes, energy gathered between his boney claws then a sudden look of what could’ve passed as surprise swept across his twisted, shriveled visage before the magic went wild the explosion covering the entirety of the battlements save the lich himself in a cacophony of fire, splattering snow and bits of stone shrapnel. Olf’s body was splintered and blackened in the blast and the healer was as close to death as he had ever come. The Blue-Hand again was able to uncannily avoid any damage. The others were all moderately wounded. Maggi without skipping a beat struck with a power attack at the dragon hacking through dried flesh and smashing bone. The creature retaliated by turning its gaze to her the hell-lights that shinned in the bottomless sockets failed to deliver the death gaze to the amazon. The Blue-Hand zipped to the lich, his sudden burst of speed probably attributed to his pair of blue-leather boots, and struck it wounding it and causing it to immediately teleport away in panic. Olf activated the second use for the day of the Shield ability on his helmet. Canohk continued to blow his pipes with a failing wind.  He was bleeding out. Grom attempted to cast another spell but failed. Parkannis unwittingly (my bad) had wound up within range of Vorwulf who immediately ran up and struck again chopping out a wedge of the would-be lich-lord’s bone who then teleported away again escaping to the opposite side. Maggi power-attacked the dragon again nearly hacking it down in a single blow but it was still active and snapped at her ineffectively. Vorwulf continued to follow the lich around the battlefield with the Blue-Hand trying to keep as near the both of them as he could.

The lich again called the same strange name to the sky. This time something happened. The darkness congealed and twisted in on itself forming into a hideous winged creature standing near the unfortunate bard. The creature that appeared as if bursting from a blasphemous cocoon stank of rotting flesh steeped in brimstone. It was winged, and horned, and emaciated in appearance.  Parkannis had summoned the Death Demon which had struck down Bers in Sawback’s Lair (see The Dragonslayers II Pt.17). It immediately shot a bolt of black-death at the bard slaying him instantly.  The Blue-Hand and Vorwulf charged Parkannis at the same time finally able to maneuver to be able to attack him both at once but the Blue-Hand was unable to lodge his sword between the monsters ribs. In response the lich unleashed its cold aura in a blast of withering cold from which the Ring of Orbs protected Vorwulf but when he looked to his side at the Blue-Hand he found that the boy was frozen solid and very much dead. The lich again zipped away to the opposite side near the dragon hoping to gain some cover behind its gruesome mass. Maggi struck at the dragon again causing the thing to collapse and move no more. The pinpoints of evil light in its sockets faded away. Parkannis shot a bolt of black lightning at Vorwulf but to little effect. The shaman cast Bestial Might on himself growing a pair of feathered wings and pulled the Mace of Supernatural Power from his belt. Vorwulf snatched the Anvil from the Blue-Hand’s freeze dried corpse; the hand breaking off into a dozen pieces tinkling to the freshly explosion-swept flagstones.

Vor sent his last orb zipping off at the lich to no effect and started to move in. The death demon waved its arm towards Olf and a searing scythe of black energy swooshed through the healer dispelling his second Shield. Maggi charged the lich but fumbled the strike nearly losing her weapon in the attempt. Grom flew at the death demon striking with his mace crunching bone and tearing the necrotic flesh. The lich shot a shadow bolt at Maggi sapping some of her strength and wounding her slightly then teleported to the head of the dragon’s corpse. Olf used his telekinesis to grapple the death demon catching it easily (natural 20 versus a natural 1). Vorwulf charged around the dragon-corpse and struck at the lich using the Hammer and Anvil as paired weapons slashing into the creature just before it was able to teleport away. He had almost killed the lich with that attack.

Cris: “S#@t! I gotta stab ‘em both into it don’t I?”

Basically had he killed Parkannis without triggering the magic in the swords they would’ve had to hunt down the monsters phylactery which was VERY well-hidden and protected somewhere inside of the tower.

The lich activated one of the rings on his skeletal hands and almost all of the wounds he had suffered disappeared, the bone like wax melding back together to be whole again. Maggi maneuvered to get in position to charge it. The death demon broke free of the psionic grapple and was able to parry another mace blow from the shaman. The lich got off a second casting of Chain Lightning wounding Vor badly (he rolled a natural 1 on his save), zapping Maggi wounding her horribly as well, and dispelling Olf’s last Shield of the day. Vorwulf gulped down another potion. The death demon missed Grom with a twisted black claw and the shaman struck the demon down with his mace before it too leapt into the freezing night air. The creature’s corpse dissolved into fetid black smoke then was gone without a trace. Vorwulf redoubled his efforts against Parkannis and stuck both of the blades between the ribs of the lich (on a double called shot no less). The blades and the lich burst with bright white light. The obsidian gems dangling from his wrists, the phylacteries of his underlings, glistened with crackling purplish light before they popped. Out drifted spirits which surprised at first then a look of relief as they drifted into the sky and disappeared one after the other, the last being the spirit of the draco-lich which majestically soared into an opening in the clouds.

Grom: “Spirits huh? Hmmm.”

After the light faded away all that was left was a pile of ashes, the lich and the swords were gone forever. Among the ashes were several of the personal possessions of Parkannis Blackbrow which the Dragon-slayers immediately began to go through and log.

 

To Be Continued…

By the time Grom was able to push his way past the rest of the party including the bard and the Blue-Hand and bursting onto the scene Magiia had just smashed through the third and last iron skeleton sending its rusty bones scattering into the air and clattering across the floor of Blackbrow’s feasting hall/dining room. A large gold jewel-studded chandelier hung from the center of the deep blue vaulted ceiling studded with diamonds like stars over the long dark oak dining table. The plaster walls of the rectangular chamber were painted with a landscape mural which was that which could have been seen from the battlements of this very tower as it was ages ago. Web sheeted gold candelabras stood in the northwest and southeast corners of the room and the jet cabinet against the north wall housed a full set of superior quality gold flatware. To the north next to the jet cabinet was an iron banded wood door which was securely locked. Opening in the west wall was a small archway which led to another locked door bearing an iron skull decoration through it and immediately around a short bend. Another door identical to the previous lay through an opening in the southwest corner after a short bend to the west. To the east was a locked bar-door behind which the slayers could see a set of dark steps leading up and turning to the north around a corner out of sight between the bars. They decided since they were “storming” the tower they had to go continue up through the bars.

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “After we get that lich out of the way we’re gonna get that Brown-Spine!”

Magiia pulled out a vial of Rust Powder and emptied it over the black iron bars which secured the staircase. While they hung back and kept a lookout Vorwulf took the sword named the Hammer from Grom and stuck it in his belt – “just in case”. After the metal was rusted through, the magic powder had failed to completely disintegrate the bars to the groups’ disappointment, Maggi kicked the door down. Vorwulf walked up to the steps and checked for traps and listened. He heard shuffling coming from around the corner but could see nothing in the pitch-black the choked the passage. He quietly signaled the others to get ready and moved cautiously onto the steps.

Vor had just stepped around the around the bend when he caught sight of a hand reaching from the shadows as if from out of a pool of black water sheathed in an orange-metal gauntlet reaching towards the Hammer. He knocked it away with his magic (+3) buckler and immediately leapt back out into the dining room. The shaman dropped his lantern and prowled onto the dark steps. Olf the Arborean healer readied himself. Maggi steeled herself dropping her axe and pulled her sword (for some reason). The shadows in the dining room seemed to stretch and deepen. The orange-metal gauntlet leapt from the shadows around Magiia she countered with a power attack slashing into the shadows. Her blade met unseen flesh and hot blood spattered everywhere as two halves of a cloaked corpse emerged from the shadows, the Shadow Meld spell which had enchanted their mysterious attacker suddenly dispelled, and fell at the amazon’s feet.

Vorwulf: “Yup. That’s Zancor.”

Grom: “The one-armed guy?”

Magiia: “Who?”

Vorwulf: “The necromancer guy we fought in the snow back in Merdna.” (see The Dragonslayers III Pt. 1)

They took the Gauntlets of Transmutation from the bleeding corpse and proceeded to recover a few bits of gear the dead necromancer had taken from Bers’ corpse. They recovered the Cape of Bat-Flight, the Ring of Dragon-Protection (the one bearing the jeweled seal of the Slayers of the Tower), the green cloak of Invisibility with an emerald clasp (which Vorwulf took possession of), and the Shaman took the necromancer’s staff. It was a black polished heavy piece topped with a small white skull. They split up the take from Zancor’s coin purse which was made of tattooed human skin finding 3 platinum talons, 4 gold talons, 20 fliks and 15 silver pieces. The Blue-Hand began complaining and the rest of the war-party grumbled along with him so Vorwulf the rest of the slayers turned back to leading the raid.

They found the steps led to a trap door in the ceiling which led out onto the top battlements of the tower. As Vorwulf was carefully opening it up using his axe the Blue-Hand pulled his sword, the one named the Anvil, and called a charge! The slayers were pushed out into the cold with the rest of the raiders spilling out behind them into the snow. It was dark the sky was covered in angry black clouds though the slayers couldn’t tell if the sun was behind, they had no way to tell how long they had stumbled through the tower. The snow was falling limiting visibility in addition to the dark. About 25 ft. away they could see a fire burning beneath a cauldron and a tripod in front of that was the diamond-oculus which provided light and fresh air to the lower reaches of the keep. The Blue-Hand and his warriors were looking all about clueless as to what to do next while they lacked a clear target.

Vorwulf: “Idiots. Stupid Blue-Hand.”

The slayers moved forward cautiously getting within 5 ft. of the fire and cauldron. Olf used his presence-sense ability but was unable to zero-in on anything but definitely knew that something was there due to the level of power which was tweaking his psychic senses. Grom’s backpack exploded in a burst of flames burning the bag, his rations, rope and hunting horn to cinders. The large round crystal thudded into the snow glowing brightly with the image of an angry Parkannis Blackbrow. Vor knowing that this was probably a “distraction” immediately scoped the area and spotted footprints appearing mysteriously in the snow almost 40 ft. away. The Arborean moved past the flames of the fire and since he could see into the ultraviolet spectrum, could see the invisible lich where he stood and pointed him out.

Olf: “Lich! There!”

Immediately a burst of evil green energy flashed from the faceted crystal globe and all of the Westlander tribals and all but 1 of the Hill-Landers disappeared. The slayers, the Blue-Hand, Canohk the bard and the lone Achaánal clan warrior prepared for battle.

 

To Be Continued…

The stinking remains of the disembodied zombie-head oozed in its wall niche and the floor was strewn with the shattered fragments of skulls. The slayers were all somewhat wounded, some more than others, and as they saw only a single path before them they decided to continue on.

Cris [Vorwulf’s Player]: “Man, we’ve got no choice! It’s this or the end of the world!”

Gil [Grom’s Player]: “You think no one else will stop him?”

Cris: “No.”

Jenn [Magiia’s Player]: “It’s up to us then. Let’s go!”

Vorwulf crept up to the start of the short north-running hall. At the end of the bend of the L-shaped passage he could spy a door and stopped to see if he could spot any traps. There was something not right about the skull decoration on the door. The door at the end of the hall was another iron-banded heavy wood door with no visible locks with a white enameled sculpture of a skull affixed to the center of its face. He withdrew so Olf, the Arborean healer, could use his telekinesis to open the door in order to bypass any potential magical traps (those activated by touch anyway). The fighters and the Blue-Hand were whispering amongst themselves while they waited for the slayers to give the go-ahead. The door creaked open arthritically on rusted hinges but to no other incident. Vorwulf, being somewhat cautious tossed a copper piece into the dim, mystically lit room to see “if anything happens”. When nothing did the ranger/dragon-slayer led the war-party in.

The atmosphere within was damp and smelled strongly of mold and mustiness. Heaped into the center of the room were the decayed remains of a large leather chair and a small table. A fresh but cold breeze blew in from behind a fancy but badly corroded vent-grating in the north wall just above the open door. To the south-east in the eastern wall was a stone step rising to the next floor. Standing in a large niche indented into the south wall was another statue portraying the beautified countenance of Parkannis Blackbrow, a large superior quality multi-faceted crystal orb held in an outstretched polished white-marble hand but this one was glowing with a fairly strong pale blue light. The statues sapphire eyes sparkled poisonously and held high in the other cold, white hand as if ready to strike was a solid gold javelin artfully styled into a lightning bolt. Along the eastern wall of the musty 15 ft. square chamber hung a large bronze shield with a large eye motif at its center with a large fist-sized sapphire as its pupil. The shield hung between two sets of crossed battle axes and great swords. As soon as the slayers were within the eerie chamber the crossed weapons on the east wall shot from their hooks and flew at them as the shield-eye began to flicker then strobe with angry blue light.

It didn’t take long for the adventurers to smash the flying weapons to shivers, less than 1 melee round, though Maggi’s armor took another couple of dings. The light in the shields eye winked out and the chamber was again filled with the soft blue glow from the large crystal. Again, they began to move through the room in a southeasterly direction towards the steps. Suddenly the shields eye blazed and Vorwulf’s heavy astral-driftmetal battle-axe was surrounded by an angry blue aura and seemed to wriggle like a living thing in his hands for a few moments but he was able to maintain his grip and the shield eye again blinked out. He motioned for the rest to follow; the Blue-Hand motioned the rest of the party to temporarily sheath their weapons as they moved past the sorcerous shield. Grom however, walked over to the statue, the glowing crystal having caught his eye. He pulled out his dagger and began to work on prying the crystal from the statues hand carefully as not to damage the treasure. He was concentrating on his efforts and didn’t notice when the last of the fighters walked up the steps out of sight. Soon after, the shaman heard the crash of breaking wood from above echoing down the steps.

After about a minute he finally yanked the crystal free. Its glow intensified. He heard a soft male voice whisper into his left ear with a slight but perceptible effeminacy.

Parkannis [the lich]: “SO why do you and your companions harry me barbarian? They and you are very skilled, powerful; and may have a place with my army. You can be rich and powerful serving the rightful lord of these lands.”

Grom [looking up at the 8 ft. tall statue]: “Um. Uh. We come in peace?”

Cris face-palmed.

Jenn snickered (she does that a lot).

Grom jumped back when he felt a hand land lightly on his left shoulder.

Gil: “Aw sh*t!”

Parkannis: “DO NOT insult me you savage!”

Grom backed towards the southeast easing towards the stairs but afraid to turn his back on the enemy mage. Parkannis, appearing as a beautiful youth with long gleaming black hair fixed by a glittering gold circlet with a single black pearl, his turquoise gold trimmed blue robe flapped when his raised his arms in the air revealing a pair of solid gold bracers studded with diamonds and emeralds on his wrists, the 3 rings on each hand shone in the reflected light of the statues crystal the light of which suddenly diminished before it went out entirely leaving Grom in a dark room under the flickering flame-light of his closed lantern which was fastened to his belt. The youth slowly followed after Grom at a leisurely pace gliding along the floor with a certain amount of measured grace ultimately leaving only a slight space between himself and the shaman.

Parkannis: “You think you can break into my HOME and disturb my RESOURCES and thwart MY right to reclaim MY lands. I AM MAGNIFICENT; I AM FURST, I AM PARKANNIS THE BLACK, and you are NOTHING!”

A golden spear stabbed through the apparent body of Parkannis towards the shaman as the image of Parkannis (for that was what it was; an illusion) dispersing it as smoke though no doubt Grom had been conversing with the authentic Parkannis, revealing the white statue made in its image wielding the gold lightning bolt lance as its weapon.

Gil/Grom: “Uh, guys?”

Cris: “Dude, we’re busy! You gotta deal with it yerself!”

Maggi had kicked down the door revealing a fairly large and hideously underused dining room, fully set and decorated, and the 3 iron bone skeletons attendant within that sizeable chamber.

Cris: “Three! THREE! REALLY!”

Me [the GM]: “Well, only one has six-arms.”

Cris scowled at me as he picked up his D20 and began to roll initiative.

A brief battle ensued with Vorwulf and Maggi slinging powerful blow after powerful blow at the iron skellies and Olf catching the third skeleton in a telekinetic grapple after buffeting it from atop the long table. The six-armed skeleton scored a lucky slash with the serrated blade of one of its falchions on Vorwulf wounding him horribly. Magiia took her share of the wounds and found herself at the same level of physical damage that she had been at before the scant healing that she had received previously.

Meanwhile, on the floor below in the eye-shield chamber, after avoiding a jab of the golden lightning lance, now crackling with electricity, Grom quickened a Bull’s Strength spell on himself and whipped out his Mace of Supernatural Power. A blast of magical energy shot from the statues sapphire eyes.

Gil: “Nope.”

Me: “What!?”

Gil: “I just remembered. I have this Ring of Eldritch Aura so it has to get through my Magic Resistance first.”

Which it didn’t.

Cris: “This guy! Uh! Oh I forgot I have this THING that will completely wipe that out!”

Grom quickly pummeled the animated statue to dust. He snatched up the sapphire eyes from the shattered head and wrapped the crystal he had taken from the statues hand in a rag and dropped it into the Bag of Holding on his hip when he noticed a pale blue light shining within his backpack; the other crystal was glowing. In it he could see a clear vision of Parkannis pacing back and forth presumably at the top battlements of the tower. He pulled off a fur he was wearing from his shoulders and wrapped that crystal up as well stuffing it back into his pack. He jaunted up the steps to rejoin his companions the sound of ringing steel rising with every step.

 

To Be Continued…

The small chamber that Vorwulf and Magiia found themselves after being sucked through a shadowy archway began to fill rapidly with their companions so they stumbled around from tiny room to tiny room for a little while before Olf used his ESP to try to find the shortest route of escape and it was through his power he realized that the group was trapped in a 4^th dimensional room also known as a Tesseract. The only way to get out would be to use a dimensional ability of some type or make their way to the farthest chamber to the “east” where there was a water bucket which was enchanted and would let whoever was touching it to walk out of the archways putting them outside of the anomaly and back within the tower proper.

The first to walk into the aforesaid “bucket room” was Vorwulf and narrowly avoided a Black Pudding that had leapt at him, Magiia was not so lucky emerging with her armor a little acid-pitted. The battle was fairly quick though the four oozes, the Black Puddings, became five when Magiia chopped one in half with her battle-axe as soon as she got into the room. The slayers won the day easily by beating them into sizzling tar with their torches. After that it didn’t take long for the slayers to figure out to link hands and walk through the archway in a daisy-chain, the healer carrying the magic bucket. The war-party wound up in a damp, slimy chamber down a flight of steps next to a barely used fungus choked well. There was no other way out other than moving back through the shadow-hung archway through which they had already presumably passed.

Grom: “I’m not going down that well!”

Vor: “Sh*t.”

They moved back into the Tesseract and Grom cast Clairvoyance for guidance to the path that would lead them to the lich. The shaman suddenly realized that if Vorwulf used his Scimitar of Dimensional Step in the chamber which they had initially entered in a certain archway the ranger could get access to another room “above” that chamber (translating into the third-dimension a fourth-dimensional description) where there was a staircase to the upper levels of the tower. It took a little while for them to figure out how the entire party could step through the dimensional rift created by the sorcerous sword-slice. Hint: it involved the magic bucket.

The party stumbled into a chamber not unlike the rest of the Tesseract though it lacked the black-filled archways on all four walls, it had an archway in the western wall which had a stone step going up and what appeared to be an iron-boned skeleton with six-arms wielding a serrated-blade falchion in each of its six hands. The chamber crammed with the entire party the 3 slayers were front and center noses to nasal cavity, their breaths clouding the polished metal of the gleaming iron-skelly.

Magiia charged the monster pressing it back with her shield pushing it all the way up the winding staircase to the chamber above out of sight of the rest of the slayers. They followed a short time after with Olf the Arborean healer hanging back with the rest of the party. The battle commenced and it took only a short time for the experienced dragon-slayers to chop the strange undead creature down, it falling to pieces. Maggi and Vorwulf were savagely wounded in the fight. Grom had used his last healing touch for the day during the battle so Vorwulf drank down another of his dwindling supply of healing potions. Olf healed some of the Amazon’s wounds stopping, at least, the bleeding. They were in another small chamber dimly fire-lit by a gold brazier with a danse-macabre masterfully beaten into its sides. In the east wall was a locked heavy-oak door near the steps down and an open way into another chamber in west wall diagonal from the oak door. Grom picked up and bagged the iron skull then walked over to investigate the other chamber which was dark.

He could see pale light shining from above past a wood railing forming a balcony of the north wall allowing a view into high ceilinged domed entrance chamber. There was stair going up presumably to the next floor through the archway in the south wall behind him. When the shaman turned from wood rail he was dazzled by a flash of blue light blasting him with a Frost Bite spell. Maggi immediately leapt into the room and shattered the sapphire-eyed black skeleton that had been lurking in the statue niche in the west wall with a single powerful axe-blow. Olf was able to restore the frost and temporary DEX damage that Grom had suffered. The shaman then cast a heal other spell on Magiia. The slayers weighed their options while the rest of the party followed the Blue-Hand up the stairs and waited in thrall for them make a final decision. They decided to go through the nearest door, the heavy oak door and elected the Amazon to kick it down.

The door flew off of its hinges and clattered down a pit just behind the door. They had found the towers oubliette. They decided to take the stairs up. Vor lead the group and was the first to enter the second floor chamber. It was a small nearly non-descript 10 ft.-square room, a cob-web draped iron chandelier hung from the low ceiling, and there were small niches in the west and south walls. There also was an archway which opened into a short L-shaped hallway, he couldn’t see the end of it but assumed a door at the termination, to the north. At the center of the room on the floor sat a bleach-white skull. The severed zombie-head stuffed into the western niche sneered, its maggoty eyes shot open exposing the bile-yellow eyeballs and it began to scream.

The slayers began to suffer damage from the sonic waves of the zombie scream and Vorwulf chopped the severed head in two halves with his astral-drift metal axe. The skull at the center of the floor leapt its jaws snapping at him. The pair of skulls in the southern niche took turns blasting the group with their sonic screams. Magiia was taken aback when her axe bounced from an identical field surrounding the second of the pair. Grom used his sling and shot a bullet striking one of the niche skulls in the forehead, the pebble bounced off of a magic shield that had surrounded the skull dispelling it.

Cris [Vorwulf’s Player]: “Shield spells they should be dispelled now.”

Gil [Grom’s Player]: “My sling isn’t going to do anything?”

Cris: “Naw, the shields are gone now, that’s the thing with shield spells it completely absorbs all the damage then goes away. If its minimal damage it still disappears!”

Vorwulf smashed the chattering skull almost lodging his axe in the floor. Magiia cleaved through the remaining pair reducing them to bone-dust with hers.

Jenn [Magiia’s Player]: “Aw man, I’m at halfway [Magiia’s hit point total]!”

 

To Be Continued…

Vorwulf gave those behind him the signal to halt while he crept up to the threshold of the main gate where he spied two arrow slits on either side in the walls and a murder hole in the vaulted ceiling above. He though he saw something moving above in the murder hole. He shouted taunts at whatever was there and called it out as a coward but to no avail so he decided to carefully move up his cutlass in his hand. As soon as he got under the murder-hole a large glob of foulness dropped onto him. He was completely enveloped in the oozing horror. The oozing blob was mostly black stripped with yellow stripes of liquefied fat and swimming with clumps of rotted hair and dozens of human teeth. Immediately Magiia rushed forward slashing at the quivering mound of rot with her axe. She sliced through its hideous membrane easily with the power of her attack but half way through her blow was deflected by something hard and metallic underneath. The creature popped like a balloon splashing grey-brown-black sludge everywhere. There stood Vorwulf still holding his cutlass in parry position oily with the monsters filth steaming due to the heat of decomposition.

Magiia (Jenn’s Character): “Sorry.”

The strength of her blow could’ve killed him had he not been able to blindly parry her weapon as it sheared through the necrotic gelatin.

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “I’m gonna be covered in that sh*t this whole time huh?”

The party proceeded through the gatehouse and into the wide courtyard to a surreal scene. There were hordes of skeletons and animated corpses digging, hauling dirt and rocks and burning detritus, stoking the flames of the bonfires. The war-party continued to move cautiously, the dead seemed not notice the transgressors blindly carrying out their orders, fulfilling the purpose for which they were animated. Through the black smoke and glare of yellow flame they could see a large central tower at the current rear of the citadels courtyard next a cliff of dirt and rock at which a group of corpses were blinding working.

The earth-blackened tower was at least 3 stories high with looped crenulations along the top battlement its doors deeply recessed into an outcrop that spanned the height of the tower. The double door was a bronze gate crusted in verdigris but through which the finely crafted decorations on their surface, a skulls and roses motif, could easily be seen. Above the recess opening were gargoyle spouts, stone skulls with their jaws agape; they were spouts for hot-oil. The slayers stopped at the threshold of the door recess and Vorwulf spied the murder-hole which ran long-ways overhead above the double-door. They spent a few minutes trying to make a decision on what to do but nobody wanted to just walk in to try the doors including those in the rest of the train. Eventually Magiia volunteered and had the shaman help her tie her rope around her waist and pulled out her crowbar.

She walked up to the decrepit double-door measuring each step carefully and when she jammed her bar into the door they squeaked open on their own revealing they had been unsecured this entire time. Magiia sighed and laughed a little and then pushed one of the doors open. An audible click sounded and the floor fell open beneath her dropping her into a chute. Olf the Arborean healer acted quickly snatching her with his telekinesis holding her where she fell so she would fall no further. The spring-loaded trapdoors snapped back shut severing Magiia’s rope. Vorwulf went to push and hold open one side of the trapdoor while Grom the shaman tossed her the frayed end of her rope and pulled her to safety while Olf continued to concentrate. When they had her at the edge of the trapdoor she leapt in a single bound to the opposite side. She saw that less than 5 ft. from the doors were wide stone steps which crept down into the darkness but she could see some faint hint of natural light shining somewhere down there. She turned and they tossed her the rope which she held, there had been no place to secure it, so the party could get across the trap. It was then that Vorwulf spotted man-sized bat-like shadows flapping silently up from the depths.

“Lookout!” shouted Vor, he leapt to Magi’s side pulling his cutlass and scimitar in mid-somersault and the shadows were upon them. Immediately dropping her end of the rope Magi turned and spotting the first shadow creature bearing down on her she chopped it in two. The two shadowy fragments evaporating away before the fell to the ground. Grom readied his slingshot but couldn’t spot his any targets in the dimness. Olf backed off as he could see nothing and two of the three remaining beasts struck at Magi with their black talons but missing and the other went for Vorwulf, missing as well. Vor chopped one of the two on him down. Magi attacked the one on her with her axe but it passed through the monsters incorporeal form. Grom was finally able to spot one of the bat-creatures and shot a sling-bullet which bounced harmlessly off of the ceiling. Olf able to key in on one of the monsters telekinetically grappled it dragging it to the floor and holding it. It began to shriek. The fourth beast struck at Vor but missed and he struck it down with a paired weapons attack. Magi finished the creature that Olf had held. After they were sure there no more enemies headed their way Magi picked the rope back up and the rest of the party began to work their way over the trapdoors along the rope.

Vorwulf took out an oil lamp form his gear and lit it. He moved down to the bottom of the steps, about 25 ft., and stood guard to make sure no other late comers would come at them while they were vulnerable. Vorwulf surveyed the chamber. The room had a domed ceiling with an apex at about 20 ft., the interior of the dome was studded with gems as stars, the moon and the planets. In the apex of the dome was a diamond shaped hole which acted as a skylight from the top battlements through which the weak, greyish light of winter seeped causing the gem-stars to sparkle and shining a fuzzy diamond onto the encrusted fountain at the center of the chamber. In each corner was a round porphyric column. To the north was a 10 ft. wide archway opening into darkness and to the south, a man-size archway also opening into a shadow-choked chamber. In an alcove in the east wall stood an 8 ft. tall white marble statue, stained with age, of a wizard with an angelic and youthful countenance, which they took to be a representation of a living Parkannis Blackbrow, holding a large superior quality multi-faceted crystal orb in an outstretched hand.  The wall behind the statue rose only to about 10 ft. high creating a ledge just above the alcove which was also cloaked in darkness. He glanced back, the hallway behind was lit by the torches that Olf had passed out and that each party member now held.
The dragonslayers convened and were deciding which way to go when Grom got distracted by the sparkling of the crystal sphere and decided to take it. It didn’t take him any time to pry it from the statue’s palm with his dagger. He sensed no magic on it. Vor checked the wide north archway and seeing what appeared to be only a mostly empty storeroom. The floor was newly swept and the few crates had modern merchant stamps on them. He decided to lead the group through the south doorway. He tried to put his lamp before him as he began to walk through the man-sized archway but the passage seemed to be clogged with shadow and as soon as his arm passed into it Magiia witnessed him appearing to be sucked through the passage to be engulfed by shadow.

Olf immediately used his ESP to locate Vorwulf and knew he was somewhere on the other side of the archway but couldn’t pinpoint him. Magiia took it upon herself to tie a rope to her javelin and then goes to drop it through the archway by extending her arm through it into the shadows and so she was also sucked through. In an instant she found herself at Vorwulf’s side and they were both standing at the center of a small 15 ft. x 15 ft. plain square room with open archways in each of the four walls the space beyond each also obscured by shadow. They assumed they had entered the room via the north arch so Magi was preparing to toss her shield through it for some reason and as she did so Vor pushed her through. She hopped, or more accurately popped, back into the room where Vor was waiting more than a little irritated. She told him the room beyond was identical to this one.

Cris [Vor’s Player]: “Well, we’re in some sort of stupid dimensional thing.”

Meanwhile, Grom made a rousing speech to convince the rest of the party to follow their “comrades” into the shadows just before he leapt through. Not to be thought a coward each party member followed in turn.

Cris: “NO! What are you doing!? This room’s too small!”

Gil [Grom’s Player]: “Yeah but Grom doesn’t know that.”

Cris threw up his arms and sighed in disgust.

Jenn [Magiia’s Player]: *giggles*

 

To Be Continued…

They were astride the green dragon spirit as it flew above the silver clouds that the shaman had successfully summoned and barely was able to get under his control. The icy winter air hammered at them in unending waves, frost fringed every hair and crusted over their furs and clothes. After a few hours it suddenly plunged into the sea of grey mist below and before even the dragon broke through the fog they could hear the ring of the planishers’ hammers on the anvils as they worked to repair the ironworks of Blackbrow’s castle. Soon they were through the chill moist and blinding white-grey of the clouds and back under the seasonal gloom the fires and furnaces of the workman’s camp blazed red and yellow below to the north-east of the citadel walls. There were hordes of men working there some appeared to be slaves wearing chains and collars but the majority appeared to be freemen working for profit under the lich’s auspices. The citadel was only half unburied from the side of the mountain, gangs of hundreds of skeletons were busily digging and hauling earth within the walled courtyard. Within the walls were ruined halls and buildings which were mostly just piles of wreckage. A few skeleton gangs were burning the detritus in a large bonfire just inside of the walls near the gatehouse. They were approaching from the outside plummeting towards the main gate of the citadel the actual gates of which were missing and presumably being rebuilt/repaired by the hirelings. A deep cutting in the mountainside led from the castle throat to a trail leading down the mountain with a spur forking towards the work camp. Before the gaping opening and at the start of the cutting stood three Hill-Giants armored in dirty, shabby iron full plate capped with great helms only distinguishable by the weapons they bared – the first had a gudendag, the second a billhook with an over-sized blade, and the last bore a great club. The dragon ceased to beat and stretched its wings slowing their rapid descent. Her head suddenly reared up with a perceivable pointy-toothed grin and glared at her passengers. She jerked her head back towards the iron-shod hill-giants at the gate unleashing a mighty roar which echoed from peak to wintry peak of the Central Mountains. Then it disappeared from under the entire war-party dropping them 50 ft. into the snow.

Grom the shaman got his cantrip off and began to fly. Olf the healer grabbed onto him both making it to the ground unharmed. Vorwulf rolled with the impact of the fall and Magiia did a midair flip and landed on her feet, the deep snow cushioning the impact. The 11 Westlander warriors, the 3 Hill-Landers and the bard hit hard thudding into the snow and put of sight. The Blue Hand, his blue cape billowing from his slight shoulders, landed gracefully onto his feet and turned to help the others. The three Hill-Giant gate guards, whom stood as still as statues while the group was in midflight, started to move jerkily but still rapidly due to sheer stature towards the slayers. Grom in response immediately gestured and called down lightning from the clouds onto the head of the lead giant, the one bearing the gudendag. The blue-white bolts of electricity crashed into the armored mass causing a brief spasm. Foul rills of smoke wormed out of the metal joints and eye slits of the antique armor. The monster continued forward unabated. Vorwulf shot an arrow into it, the arrow punching a hole straight through its chestplate, black bile leaked from the puncture in thick gobs. The clanking and hammering of metal that had carried on the frozen air suddenly stopped as the workmen gathered to watch the spectacle.

Gil (Grom’s Player): “The giants are undead!?”

Cris (Vor’s Player): “Of course they are! Zombie Hill-Giants in full-plate [sound of disgust and a gesture in my direction]”

Jenn (Magiia’s Player): “Uhg! They better not keep getting back up after we kill ‘em!”

Magii charged the lead behemoth winding up a power attack with her axe. She missed (Natural 1). The second zombie guard moved up and power-sweep-attacked with its billhook forcing Olf and Grom to dodge backward their full movement. Vorwulf tried to duck. The blow caught Olf and Vorwulf injuring them both badly. The third giant-zombie guard moved charged forward and walloped Vorwulf with its great club nearly killing him. Olf activated the Shield ability on his magic helmet. The first guard swung its massive gudendag nailing Magiia ferociously wounding her. Vorwulf did a quick-draw to pull his heavy great axe and activated his boots of Fleet of Foot. Magi swung again at the gudendag wielding zombie hacking through its rusty plate dropping it unleashing a waft of hideous smelling steam from the gash. The remaining two zombie guards swung at Vorwulf narrowly missing. Grom stepped forward back into battle to use his healing touch on Vorwulf. Vor immediately swung at billhook wielding giant-zombie chopping it down. Magiia hacked into number 3 and Vorwulf finished it off with his follow-up blow. The supernatural speed granted to the range/dragon-slayer by his magic boots allowed him to whack the zombies’ heads from their iron-clad shoulders before they had a chance to stand back up destroying them and ending the battle. A few weak claps and some joyful mumbling came from the gawking workmen whom immediately turned back to their work, the ring of striking metal began anew. The rest of the party had just extricated themselves from the snow; they had taken only a few scratches from the plunge.

Vor swigged down a healing potion after giving the healer another. Grom did what he could to heal Olf the healer and Magiia without spending too much of his magic to do so.

Grom [to Magiia after using his healing touch on her]: “Sorry.”

Magiia: “No, save your spells we’ll need more of this. I’m still pretty hurt.”

Vorwulf: “Same here, I’m f***in’ hurt.”

The party got back into formation with the ranger in the lead, Magiia behind him, with Grom and Olf following her and the Blue Hand and Canohk the bard abreast, the Hill-Landers and then the 11 Westlander tribals taking up the rear. They moved cautiously into the cutting, every step deliberate, towards the wide open maw of the disinterred fortress.

 

To Be Continued…

There they stood at the edge of the Hornwood the Blackwings (Grom the shaman, Vorwulf the ranger/dragon-slayer, and Magiia the dragon-warrior Ferenoi), Olf the Arborean healer, Canohk the faunic bard, and the remaining 5 Achaánal clan warriors of the Hill-Lands. Vorwulf forged ahead as they moved into the treeline. He picked up what he believed to be a scout trail moving due east. After several hours he spotted more greyish streaks lazily intersecting the trail occasionally moving in the same direction. The grey streaks in the snow were stains left from a cheap black paint which bled or was scraped off by the ice. It was easier going, the snow being much thinner on the ground as they moved deeper into the woods, but the light grew scarce dimming to a level of a moonlit night due to the snow-choked canopy above.

Well into late afternoon Vorwulf led the party on their mission to find the Blue-Hand and his camp of rebels, more to the point the magic sword that he was bearing, that dubbed the Anvil. Suddenly he brought the group to a dead stop. He had sighted someone up ahead in the dimness. It was a human male a war-belt girding his hips and belly and black bear hide with an open chest. He had bronze bracers on his arms, a steel skullcap on his head and a dirty wolfskin mantle on his shoulders, the black paint on the bracers wearing off in streaks. He sighted the Blackwings’ party almost as soon as Vorwulf saw him and a gush of steam obscured his grizzled face as he roared and charged towards them brandishing a bearded axe in each hand.

As the berserker charged Vorwulf the tattoo on his bare chest came into view, it was a pair of crossed black battle axes wreathed in red flames. Magiia and Grom could feel a rumble traveling through the ground as if something rather large and heavy was hurtling towards them. A thug leapt out of nowhere at Magiia swinging at her with his battle axe, she countered with her own axe which bounced off of his black streaked shield. Grom cast Mass Bull’s Strength increasing his allies’ ability. A blast of electricity shot from behind a clump of frosted bushes zapping Olf. The Blackwings could see it came from a medium-sized ratling warlock draped in black with a bronze mask on his face. The bard, who sang as he swung his curved long sword, and the rest of the warriors were already engaged at the rear with a larger group of the thuggish Black-Soldiery.

Cris (Vor’s player): “It’s one of those Poisonwood ratlings.”

The berserk made it to Vorwulf and swung with a paired weapons attack with his bearded axes. Vor easily deflected the first blow with his bowie knife and clinched on the second with his cutlass. Another human charged in from the forest-shadow swinging a great sword with a flame design engraved on the blade at Vor’s head. He missed. Grom took a sword blade to the guts in a sneak attack made by a faun wounding him severely.

Gil (Grom’s player): “Damn! He took half of my H-Pee in one hit!”

Olf activated the shield ability on his bronze open helm and used his healing touch on the shaman. The ground shook perceptively as the sound of splintering tree branches filled their ears and snow fell in great drifts from the canopy above as a Hill-Giant wielding a massive bearded axe crashed into the battle and swung a mighty blow into the healer, fortunately all it did was to dispel the magical field that surrounded him. Another thug in a black chest-plate brandishing a battle axe and a black round shield came into view.

Gil: “Damn! I cast Mass Animal Form!”

Instantly all their enemies with a flash of light and a slight pop disappeared and in their places were black rats which immediately scuttled away, the Hill-Giant was transformed into a rat the size of a cat but still he scuttled away with the rest. They turned to the rear the remainder of the party had been successful as well though 2 more of the Achaánal had fallen. The Blackwings found that each of the enemy warriors had a potion of warmth among their equipment, which had fallen into piles where they had stood. They also managed to loot a magic great axe from the faun, a magic great sword from one of the humans, a set of magic black robes and a pair of ruby studded bracers from the ratling warlock.

Cris: “Blackbrow’s hunting for the Blue-Hand too. We gotta move faster.”

The Hill-landers insisted on burying their comrades and thus the party was delayed an hour as all took a hand in digging into the frozen earth beneath the snow. It was evening by the time they again to move shortly after they set camp. They all crawled into their bedrolls after the shaman cast Protection from Elements (cold) on them and watches had been assigned. On first watch the entire party was abruptly woke up by a horn blast form Vor’s hunting horn. He had spotted the Brown Spine trying to dig through the canopy snow above the camp but the horn blast apparently had scared it off. It was third watch by the time everything calmed back down and Magiia and the bard were left on the lookout. It wasn’t long before there were knives at their throats and a, “shhhhh” hissed into their ears.

The entire party soon found themselves stripped of their weapons and tied up prisoners of a large group of Westlander tribals with tattoos over their faces. The bard tried to talk but choked as he was just too panicked. Grom on the other hand managed to charm them and convince the savages that they were seeking the Blue-Hand because they had a sure fire way to defeat the Lich of Blackbrow and that they didn’t mind being taken as prisoners to their encampment. So they were dragged through the snow along hidden paths many devoid of snow at a very quick pace. Each of the tribal warriors was wearing a steel skullcap, a suit of scalemail armor, a dark green though frost encrusted woolen cloak, buckskins and fur-wrapped feet. Each was bearing a wood round shield painted with a single blue hand and wielding a battle axe with a pair of tomahawks slipped under their thick leather belts. Exhausted, they reached their goal by next evening.

They had been taken to a large clearing in the trees. The forest had been chopped down around a large pond and they could see several tents and log cabins about the shore of the ice-over water. The outside perimeter by the tree-line was populated by the jutting stumps of the felled trees with a log fence on the inside perimeter of the stumps around the camp and a defensive ditch beyond that crossed by a narrow split-log bridge. The party was stopped at the split-log crossing and Grom was led by two of the Westlanders as the representative of the Blackwings straight to their leader, the Blue-Hand. The rebel leader was very young in appearance, basically a teenager, wearing a grey wool tunic and wrapped in a fine blue cloak. The Anvil was at his side. It wasn’t long before the shaman, ever the agile diplomat, had the Blackwings inside of the Blue-Hand’s pavilion pouring over his maps.

They found that the Blue-Hand had been “blessed” by the druid of Cleft-Rills, Siamnecca, and thus had gained the loyalty of the Westlander tribals of Veringer’s Field and Eagle’s Grove which comprised the main body of his forces. They although loyal to the Druidic Council of the Cleft-Rills are mostly on-board with the Blue-Hand for the loot when the fighting finally breaks out. The Blue-Hand had planned to send out small scouting and foraging parties through the winter and come spring move on Hornstone which was not too far north of the Hornwood, pushing out the “foreign” forces of Blackbrow. His plan relied on securing the Old High Road and the thicket above Loc Lake at first melt. He was sure the farmers which remained in the North Spur were on his side. It didn’t take much for the adventurers to convince him otherwise especially when the bard finally was able to deliver his message sent directly from the Druidic Council (about the Black Moon eclipsing the sun). The next day, day 9, the shaman gets an idea.

Gil: “I want to summon the most powerful spirit I can that knows the land the best.”

The Blackwings, the bard, the healer and the Blue-Hand were all in the Blue-Hand’s pavilion while the shaman used a bronze brazier to carry out the summoning. It took about an hour then after a sudden unnatural stillness overtook the whole scene and all the rills of smudge-smoke seemed to freeze in mid-air, the brazier erupted with a gout of emerald flame and the smoke about the tent became dense and green almost opaque. The image of the head of a green dragon with glowing red eyes floated in the smoke above the receding flames of the brazier. The shaman sweating and straining against an invisible enemy suffered an elongated battle of wills with the spirit finally seizing control of the powerful dragon spirit, barely. He was able to get its name though it spake it in draconic, the closest he was able to get was Adcahali. The pronunciation was deeper, more guttural and penetrated with a serpent-hiss which the human vocal anatomy is simply not capable of.

Grom: “I command you to tell us the best and fastest way to get to the fortress, Blackbrow.”

The dragon volunteered to fly up to 20 of them to the citadel on its back. With that the smoke slithered out of the tent and out into the snow where it congealed into the semi-solid ectoplasmic form of an adult green dragon. The Blackwings, Canohk the bard, Olf the healer, the Blue-Hand, the 3 remaining Hill-Landers and 11 of the Westlander warriors geared up and mounted the back of the strangely spongy and clammy dragon. Soon icy, winter air was blasting at their faces as the dragon flew up above the clouds out of the winter gloom into the bright winter sun where it shone with a vibrant green glimmer and semi-transparent like sea-green glass. Shortly they would be standing before the walls of fortress Blackbrow.

 

To Be Continued…

Dawn. Vorwulf was able to find a narrow crag in the cliff of Nizgal’s End which allowed for the party to climb down into the box canyon and they reached its mouth by late afternoon. Vorwulf and Magiia spotted something sticking out of the snow ahead as they trudged on. It was a broken shield painted with green and white quarters the charge a black ram’s head with spiral horns. It was the shield of the Achaánal that had been snatched by the Brown-Spine dragon a few days before. Vorwulf looked back into the canyon to try to spot any caves or ledges that would allow for a lair a creature of the size of the Brown-Spine could occupy. He didn’t see any. The ranger/dragon-slayer surveyed the landscape to the south-east to where the canyon mouth gaped as dusk began to redden the sky. They set up camp and Grom, the shaman, cast Impervious to Elements (cold) before the party settled into their bedrolls to rest for the night.

A scream ripped through the camp waking the slayers. When they leapt to their feet they saw one of the Hill-Landers stumbling away into the pitch black night simultaneously laughing and crying his fellow locked in combat with a bizarre looking monster. It appeared as an emaciated corpse floating just above the snow lacking feet; a pair of splintered antlers jutting from both sides of its hideous skull. The rest of the warriors panicked and cowered behind the Blackwings as they met the undead thing in combat. Grom was the quickest to action but his attempt to banish it as a spirit failed revealing the creature to be an undead thing rather than a spirit. Magi charged the creature and power-attacked with her axe chopping it into halves with a single mighty stroke. The corpse that crashed to the snow resembled the monster she had felled only in that it was a shriveled husk of freeze dried flesh and brittle bone.

Olf concerned with the fighter that stumbled off into the dark used his ESP to locate the man. Grom followed after. The pair found him not far off but still well out of sight of the campsite. He was on his knees stuffing his mouth with snow and gibbering madly to himself, tears frozen on his cheeks.

Gil (Grom’s player) [to the other players]: “Should I try to Dispel Fear on him? Would that do it?”

Cris (Vorwulf’s player): “I dunno if that’s gonna work.” He thought for a second, “Naw. There’s somethin’ else wrong with the guy.”

Grom cast Mystic Diagnosis on the maddened warrior and found he had been afflicted with insanity by way of a curse. So he simply cast Dispel Curse instantly curing the wretch. They led the cured and shivering Hill-Lander back to camp and because the monster had invaded camp on the second watch as soon as everyone had calmed down the group tried to catch what little rest they could before sunup. Vorwulf and another Hill-Lander warrior took the third watch while the others slept. The sun rose on the sixth frigid day of travel.

Jenn (Magiia’s player): “Aw man! We’re not gonna make it!”

Cris: “We’re not going fast ‘cause of the snow. We’re up to our waists in it. Sh*t.”

Jenn [to me, the GM]: “You know, I’ve been reading this book and this guy was trapped in a jail cell in a dungeon. And the other guy with him, all the other people [NPCs] didn’t know that they were in the game but he did. Because he was a player. So he knew there had to be a way out because the Game Master wouldn’t put ‘em in a place with no escape. So y’know. The GM’s got to have a plan. If we fail…”

Cris (Vorwulf’s player)[sarcastically]: “Yeah, Only the worlds gonna end..”

Jenn [shrugging]: “If the players fail the GM fails. The guy said it.”

Before the party started to get on the move Vorwulf used his land navigation to try to figure out how much farther they had to travel. Due to his excellent skill and familiarity with the Cleft-Rills region he surmised that it would take them about 3 and half more days till they reached the edge of the Hornwood. The group set about on their way eastward with Vorwulf in the lead and the rest of the Blackwings at the vanguard with Canohk the bard and Olf the healer following. The Achaánal clan warriors were taking up the rear. Just before noon the sun vanished from the sky hid behind black clouds. An icy wind and a peal of thunder heralded a sudden blizzard which blasted down onto the heads of the adventurers. Not wanting to let the storm bog them down the Blackwings gathered around the shaman trying to give him cover as he worked his magic. Despite the cacophony of slashing winds and snow he was able to complete the ritual of Calm Storm II after an hour it was completed and the air fell still almost immediately.

The slayers looked about them and saw the grey-white walls of the storm with an appearance of wet clay swirling about them at a distance of about 7 miles or so causing everything to be washed out by the sun which peeked out from behind the silvery clouds directly above them. It was at this time that they also noticed the absence of the bard and the 6 Hill-Lander fighters. They dusted off the snow and ice that crusted their cloaks and went to find their missing charges with Olf leading using his ESP to locate the missing 7. A few hours into following the Arborean, Grom stopped suddenly and yelled, he had gone snow blind. Fortunately Olf was able to restore his vision using his Bio-Manipulation psionic ability. They treaded on.

It was evening and already pitch-black by the time they caught up with the missing party members halfway down the slope of a southerly hill. All of them were shivering, blue-lipped and suffering from exposure. The healer and the shaman spent a few minutes restoring their health and healing the damage they had suffered from the time they spent in the blizzard. They turned northward and surmounted the hill digging in immediately. The shaman cast Impervious to Elements (Cold) over the party. It was inevitable that the blizzard held temporarily back by Grom’s spell would move back in and swallow them in a hell of ice and winds. The night was uneventful while they laid in their snow-cave those on watch listening to the storm as it howled back over them on first watch and roared until the end of the third.

Come the morning of the seventh day the spent much of the morning digging out from under several feet of fresh powder, soon after emerging Grom had a sudden idea. He cast Channel Animal Ability (flight) on all of the party members pretty much using up all of the magic that he could channel for the day (i.e. spells per day).

Cris: “Aw man! It’s like when this guy said ‘look I forgot I had this’ and used that rod of Quicksand!” (see The Dragonslayers III Pt. 3: Zombie Dragons Doom)

Gil: “Well, it only lasts for 7 minutes.”

The players did the math. They would be traveling at a speed of 100 ft. per melee round which came to a rate of 20 miles per hour. They calculated the travel distance for the 7 minutes which was approximately 2.3 miles and if they were able to fly at a x4 maximum movement rate (I ruled they could) using up all of their attacks per melee round each to increase their speed putting them easily at the edge of the Hornwood before the spell expired saving them a couple of days of tramping through the snow. They had decided to hazard the flight despite the presence of the Brown Spine Dragon which had seemingly been hounding them and the potential for it to “swoop in on them”. They would be helpless not only because a dragon simply outclasses any other flying creature in the air but the spell would transform their arms into wings disallowing for hand-held weapons. The cost paid for taking that chance wasn’t evident until it had already been paid. The dragon was trailing them and while they were in midflight had flew up stealthily behind them and swooped in snatching the last man and was nearly out of sight before the shaman had spotted it disappearing over the rapidly approaching trees of the Hornwood. The head count after landing confirmed that they were a man down, another Achaánal was gone. Vorwulf was busy contemplating the grey streaks and trails in the snow he had seen from above seemingly pointing to the Hornwood hinting that a number of something was headed in the same direction.

 

To Be Continued…