Durvil and Lothar heaved the massive stone to the side, and it tipped over with a heavy thud. Staring at them accusingly from what had been the underside was a carved, lidless eyeball, perfectly round and bloodshot throughout. Below where the stone had been set, a ruined stairway descended into the darkness, cobwebs drifting in the stale air.
“What do you think it was watching?” Elsbeth asked, indicating the massive eye.
Durvil glanced back from where he knelt, peering down the stairs. “Funny girl, when she wants to be,” he said to no one in particular. “I’m more interested in what old Staggy might have been hiding down here. Shall we?”
Lothar smiled and took a swig from his flagon. “Of course,” he said, stepping forward into the stairs. Holding his torch aloft, he watched the flame carefully. No breeze from below, so no other opening, then. Carefully, making room for Elsbeth beside him, he descended. Every now and then he would pause to let Elsbeth study the stairs and walls, waiting for her to give him the signal that it was safe to proceed. At the bottom, the stairwell opened up into a large chamber. The air was miserably damp, and greasy swaths of mold caked the carved stone walls and floor. Fifteen feet above, the ceiling was thick with cobwebs. Three archways in the walls opened into other rooms. Spread throughout were mounds of crates, furs, sacks, weapons, and other obviously stolen loot, making line of sight difficult to maintain.
Spreading out, Lothar, Ixilplith and Elsbeth checked each entrance, leaving Selah and Durvil at the stairs. It was apparent that Durvil didn’t trust the situation, and wanted to be sure nothing slipped up or down the stairs without him knowing. A quick look through each arch revealed more of the same: stacks of stolen goods. The far reaches of each room ended in piles of rubble, as though the collapsing tower above echoed its fall to ruin below. The archways all had carving along their lengths, odd symbols and markings, with the staring eye at the apex of each.
“What does the eye mean?” Ixilplith asked, stepping underneath one arch and peering closely at it.
Selah smiled at his curiosity. “Staring so closely at it won’t prod your memory, Ix. It’ll come to you eventually.” She frowned slightly. “But it does seem like something I’ve seen before. I just don’t recall where.”
A whistle from Elsbeth brought Ixilplith and Lothar to her from their investigations. Pointing, she indicated a pile of furs and blankets mounded in a dryer corner of one room. Surrounding it were small effects including a crock of water, a packet of pulled jerky, discarded bones, and a stylized circlet of stone leaves. “Who do you suppose was using this?” Ixilplith asked.
Lothar felt his skin crawl. “Someone the Stag Lord didn’t like, that’s for sure.” Looking around at all the crates, sacks and packs, a thought occurred to him. “Although, it seems more like he was locking a prized possession away than any prisoner.”
“And we still don’t know where he is,” Elsbeth whispered quietly, peering down one aisle of crates. She thought she saw a little movement in the corner. Motioning for Lothar and Ixilplith to follow, she tried to keep the conversation light and raised her voice so Selah and Durvil could hear. “These boys were busy, weren’t they?”
“Looks it,” Durvil agreed loudly. “But it looks like they never actually did anything with it. These were some poor bandits, who stole so much and never sold any of their ill-gotten gains.”
“Good that the Stag Lord is dead, then,” Lothar commented, stepping to the side of Elsbeth. She was right; there was definitely movement within the rubble of the collapsed corner. “If all he ever did was make everyone miserable, then I say good riddance.”
In front of Durvil and Selah, a piece of the wall separated itself from the stonework and stepped out into the room. Fascinated, Durvil watched as the form coalesced from stone to man. His face was broken and shattered, his eyes crooked below his brow. One ear was massively swollen, looking as though it had been beaten so often that it was forever malformed into a head of cauliflower. Through crooked and missing teeth, the old man hissed, “That boy was my son. If you are responsible for his death, then you will answer to me.”
At the same time, the rubble before Elsbeth exploded into motion as a carpet of roiling fur detached from the shadows, rushing forward and engulfing everything in its path. The chittering, squealing mass of rats was anything but innocent, myriad red eyes focused on the trio before it with ravenous purpose.
Monday, May 30, 2011
After the Stag Lord's Defeat
I am writing this to report the odd, and I mean ODD, things that we've found in this fort.
First off, the Stag Lord: After removing his mask we find that he's horribly disfigured. As if he'd been beaten nearly to death from the first day he set foot on this earth. I suppose that would be enough to make a man mean...crazy and mean. And that's exactly what the Stag Lord was...Crazy first, mean as a close second.
We have also stumbled across clues that point to Elsbeth's phantom menace having shacked up with the Stag Lord's boys. He was masquerading as a priest of Erastul and had been here not more than a couple of days before us. A small cot and a hidden shrine to some unknown demon...His most current alias, we think, is Father Avery.
Now the treasure that the Stag Lord was hoarding was quite a find. Stored in three chests we appropriated the following loot:
- 2 magical draughts of curing (cure mod)
- An ensorsceled suit of leather armor (+1)
- 14 magical arrows (+1)
- His stag-horned helm ('Dead Eye', increases hearing, called shot, eyesight)
- Green Wrist Charm of Fae manufacture
- 3 odd leather masks
- Bolts of Cloth
- Empty scroll cases
- Gold (good for buying supplies for beer making)
- Pewter buckle of what Ix calls a 'Succubi' ... she's cute, but she gives me the creeps too
- Silver charm bracelet
- A silver ring
*NOTE TO SELF: Remind me to ask Elsbeth what took her so darned long in that room...
Ah, you're probably wondering about our "prisoners" right? Well, we let most of them go free. Unfortunately our new friend who can't speak, is not only mute, but bloodthirsty as well. All of those "sleeping" guards were summarily executed by him. Maybe they deserved it? Maybe they didn't....I'm not judge nor jury. Although I know that it's part of our charter, it's not a role I'm comfortable in. Not like Durvil or Elsbeth...Luckily for me, I'm not really needed in that capacity.
It gets stranger though...our mute friend is someone that knows me. Yes! From my days as a child in the city. He was one of the street urchins that ran in the same circles as my brother and myself. From the little that I recall, he was a "protector" of those of us that were too weak to defend ourselves. But one day he just up and disappeared. Rumor has it that he beat up the wrong person, was prosecuted and sent to prison. Turned out he ran...and here's where he ended up.
Unfortunately for him. But I do remember that at his core, he was a good soul. And I trust that still. He's single minded at this point though...killing Dovan is his one and only aim in life at this point.
The other "bandit" left alive was the black-clad man who, when we attacked, was sitting in the corner sharpening his sword. His name as it turns out is Aikiros. And get this, he was a fallen paladin of Iomedae! His was a tragic story of misplaced love. He loved a woman who somehow ended up w/ the "wrong" man...I'm not certain of the details here...But worse comes to worse and he kills a man. Running, or hanging, were his only options.
So here he ended up. Another lost soul sucked into the Stag Lord's pit of depravity. But yet again, he's got a kernel of goodness somewhere deep within. Selah is certain of it...and I trust her intuition as well. So he remains free. Durvil is not so certain, and is keeping a very close eye on our two new friends.
While we were cleaning up, I decided to take a walk around our new surroundings and in doing so, stumbled across another hidden trap door. Granted, I didn't just stumble across it, I was actually looking. For I surmised that if this edifice was indeed a chapel or fallen church of some type, it would make sense that the monks had some type of cellar in which to keep supplies.
I notified the others immediately, and Elsbeth came with me to check it out. We opened it up, and sure enough, it was some type of cellar. We retreated to fetch the others after checking the stairs down for traps.
As a group we decided that it would be best if we rested and checked on this cellar in the morning. So we did exactly that.
Next day we opened it back up again and went down. Darkness greeted us like an old friend... The chambers were stacked with old crates and boxes. But not really much more than that. After some careful searching though, Ix found some type of "nest" or bed maybe. Consisting of old rags and refuse, it was surrounded with scraps of food and bones. Someone had been kept down here, and fed! Deplorable! Just another sign of the Stag Lord's depravity.
Who might have stayed down here...and how did they escape? From all signs they'd been down here extremely recently. And the trap door hadn't been opened from the outside till we had done it. So where were the inhabitants?
I wandered around calling out that we would not hurt whomever had been kept in these conditions...That their captive, the Stag Lord was now dead and they were safe. Who knew? It wasn't the right thing to say. For a response was soon in coming.
As we were spread out searching the rooms, the far corner erupted in rats...a furry swarm, all teeth and beady red eyes poured forth from a pile of rubble. And at the same time, near the stairs, a form "emerged" from the wall. Emerged as if they were part of it in the first place! Magic of a high degree I'm certain.
The figure we faced was as beaten as the Stag Lord had been, and horribly disfigured. And it rasped out, "If you've killed my boy, we've got words!" Oh shit...so this is his FATHER!?! Yet another sign of one hell of a messed up family situation.
What a fiasco. I shall write more later...if there is a later that is.
Monday, May 16, 2011
The Stag Lord's Fort
Standing outside the Stag Lord's fort we all called into question the prophecy. As we peered into the sky and saw no clouds we began to wonder if we were in the right place at the right time. And Durvil, our constant conscience, was the most vocal of the lot. Although, I can't say I was necessarily in disagreement.
That fort was one foreboding looking domicile. And knowing that one of the nastiest bandits lords in these parts resided within, it made it that much more so.
And we were going to be breaking into it. I also called into question our sanity. Why?
Why were we breaking into this place? Well, logic told us that we were here, and the trip was not a minor one to undertake. So if we were here already, we might as well use our time wisely and scout the place out. For future efforts I suppose.
So Elsbeth and I crept towards the structure. The log palisade appeared to be laid upon the foundations of an ancient stone building of some type. It came to mind that it was possibly an old church or fort, what with all the dead surrounding it, that only seemed logical. Especially when you consider that the dead are all wearing robes of some sort. Hmmm...something to ponder for later I suppose.
The far northern side seemed to be the weak point, as the stone wall was lowest there, and the guards seemed to avoid that area. A sharp drop off to the lake below protected that flank, so the defenders most likely thought it safe from an attack. But it was not an attack we were interested in.
Making our way around the side of the fort was not much of an issue. We used the landscape and the failing light to our advantage and skirted the steep slopes, headed for the low wall. It was just then that I stumbled across what seemed a "hollow" section of ground.
Stopping immediately I called Elsbeth back and we found what appeared to be a forgotten trap door, grown over with foliage and the soil of ages, it lay hidden to most eyes. It was by Caiden's luck that I had stumbled across it.We had heard rumors of a secret passage that had led from the ancient building...but we had discounted them as exactly that, rumors. But lo and behold, they proved true. Opening it, we found that it led directly towards the palisade. So far luck was on our side...all we needed now was a storm!
As we turned to make our way back to report our fortune to the rest of the group, Elsbeth's keen eyes picked out a path leading down to the edge of the lake. It was cunningly hidden from sight. One had to be nearly directly on top of it to be able to even see it... Luck again was on our side.
We marked it and made our way down, then reported to the group as planned.
It seemed that our plans had been made for us...As a storm quickly rolled in to seal the deal. It was certain. This was our night.
Navigating our way back in the dark was not a problem, and the heavens smiled upon us as we approached the trapdoor, rain began to cascade down around us. Blocking sight and sound.
The tunnel's exit lay just under the stairs on the outside of the current stone walls. As we clambered out we found that we needed to make our way atop the walls and around to the room wherein we had heard, from the guards atop the tower (one Stitcher and Ayles), that the Stag Lord was currently residing. This was our target. If we could get in quietly and make our way around to the Stag Lord and take him by surprise, we might have a chance.A couple of well placed sleep spells and we were half way around the fort by the time we hit our first snag. I should have known, this was going much too easily.
Taking shelter under one of the ruined floors, near the Stag Lord's room, a cadre of bandits huddled around a fire. We had run out of sleep spells and our only alternative lay in drawing them out to take them on singly or in pairs if we could. Two of us snuck atop the ruined wall while the others positioned themselves outside.
Our troubles started right about at that time. Elsbeth and I, the climbers, stumbled upon a couple of unseen guards atop the wall. One thin man and his massive friend, Ox. Seeing us, they naturally raised the alarm and all hell broke loose.
Ox came charging after Elsbeth and me. I laid down a bit of a surprise for him on a slippery section of walkway, with some extra oil that I generally carry. He tumbled down and landed at Durvils feet with a thump.
The others charged us while the leader and a crony worked on opening some type of gate in the back of the room. I had heard that this group had some sort of owl bear pet....or some such. I was not particularly eager to meet one again, so we made an attempt to scatter them. To no avail. The gate creaked open a crack, and with a roar, the ugly brute charged out. Bandits scattered every which way and this thing bee-lined directly for us.
Joy of joys...another feathered horror had descended upon us. Beaky, the last owlbear we had fought, had nearly laid us low, and this one appeared to be yet again larger! We knew we'd be in trouble. And guess what? We were...
Claws and beak rended left and right bringing two of us low while Durvil struggled to control the massive man known as Ox. Our saving grace was Seelah. I can NOT say enough about that witch. And I don't mean that in an offensive way...She saved us time and again with her well placed healing and spells.
Oddly enough, as the melee raged, we found an ally. The thin man that had been sitting with Ox up above asked about the bandit Dovan. We told him that he was safe in Restov. And that seemed to mollify him as he dropped Elsbeth a magical drought of healing. He also plied his bow in our favor. Stranger things have happened you know.
Ix and Elsbeth tried to keep the owlbear at bay while the rest of us fought back and forth. Right about then, at the most inopportune moment, the back door slammed open, and guess who emerged? Yes, not a tough guess: The Stag Lord. The shit storm just got worse.Luck was with us though, he was drunk as a skunk and couldn't hit much with that massive bow of his. Eventually the owlbear succumbed to our blows and hit the deck with a thud. The black-clad man was scared into the pen, where he was locked away by Seelah and the Elsbeth slays the Stag Lord! Just as Ox falls to the frantic attacks of Durvil.
It was foreordained. But I'll tell you this...I'm not sure I'm going to throw all my belief behind such things again. It was a close thing. A VERY close thing.
As I write, I raise a toast to Caiden Caileen...thank you for watching over the joyful chaos of melee, and for guiding my hand.
More later...
Stage Dressing (Back to the River Kingdoms)
Destiny was left in excellent position.
The army of charua-ka was shattered by the defeat of their Anghazhan champion, and retreated into the jungle from whence they came. For several days, not a single sighting of the bestial ape-men was reported by the watchers on the tower gate. When one was spotted by a group of outriders, it kept its distance, merely watching as the patrol went about its task. When the men pulled the massive head of the Anghazhan from under the tarp that concealed it upon the wagon, the charua-ka hooted in fear and scampered back into the trees. After mounting the head on a pile of stones at the top of the trail leading down to the valley, the patrol returned to the palisade, and from that point on the archeological site was left in peace.
Raimondo was sent back to Bloodcove, and a second shipment of goods arrived within two ten days, accompanied by tonics and potions from Rulkep. With the rope and tools the shipment brought, repair on the palisade walls and the destroyed tower was able to be completed. A note from the Pathfinder Society promised that representatives would make the journey shortly to verify the find, and Destiny’s place in the Chronicles was assured. It also warned of increased interest from the Aspis Consortium, stating very plainly that the group of “adventurers” that had passed through Bloodcove recently was being actively hunted. There was a strong suggestion that the group makes itself scarce or it would face a foe beyond their scope that was interested in exacting a price from their skins. Reimbursement for the rescue they enacted was also provided.
Captain Colgardie seemed to have found that note amusing, and in the true spirit of the mercenary ways of the Aspis Consortium, offered you a way off of Azlant Ridge. His price: he wanted to accompany his benefactors back to the lands they spoke so much about, as he felt the “earning potential” in that area was significantly better than that offered by the jungles of the Mwangi. Besides, he had a dagger that needed to be returned to its owner some day, and if the owner insisted on returning to these “Stolen Lands,” it seemed only right that Colgardie follow.
He led you northwest, on an arduous journey through the Terwa Uplands and to the small coastal town of Port Peril, a smuggler’s cove with strong ties to the Shackles Pirates. There, he had no trouble securing passage on a ship bound for the Inner Sea. It seemed Alizandru Kovack, the captain of the Jenivere, owed Colgardie a favor, and passage for seven people and their horses exonerated him of his debt. After a stop in Ilizmagorti, the Jenivere made call on the port of Corentyn at the far southwest edge of Cheliax. There, the sight of the Arch of Aroden, the broken span that once linked the continents of Avistan and Garund, was as awe inspiring as any sight could be. From Corentyn, you made your way east to the famed shipyard of Cassomir in Taldor, at the mouth of the Sellen River, the largest watershed on Avistan.
Beyond Taldor’s borders, where you followed the Sellen River north, the rough and tumble ways of the River Kingdoms held sway. Here, so long as you held to the River Freedoms, you were left to yourself. There were six freedoms in all, listed here from least to most grave:
Say What You Will, I Live Free. Riverton, on the shore of the Kallas Lake, embodies this law. Ruled by a Theocracy devoted to Hanspur, the river god, these people cared not for the oppression of the “empires” of the south. In the River Kingdoms, they were able to speak their minds, regardless of how demented their minds might be. For the right price, however, the inhabitants of Riverton made excellent pilots for the myriad twists and turns of the Sellen Riverways, pilots who knew how to keep their questions to themselves.
Oathbreakers Die. Hymbria, on the banks of the East Sellen River, is inhabited by elves. Nowhere did it become plainer that keeping one’s oath in the River Kingdoms was a matter of life and death, not just one of honor.
Walk Any Road, Float Any River. Ordinarily, the words of this law are interpreted to mean merely that no toll may be enforced to travel the rivers and roads of the kingdoms, but that doesn’t mean that safety is implicit, even from the lord of the land. Liberthane, on the edge of the Embeth Forest, was an obvious anomaly among the River Kingdoms. Its ruler, Achille Parsall, truly believes in this law, protecting the people of his small kingdom with a fervor bordering on zealotry.
Courts are for Kings. In Nystra, buried within the forest to the east of the Sellen River, it is said that the rulers of the land were wont to play cruel games with their citizens. Within the River Kingdoms, that was their prerogative, as courts are for kings, not the common man. But Nystra was a perfect example of what happens when even a king goes too far. The strong rule in the River Kingdoms, and now Nystra stands silent tribute to the violence that can be the result of pushing the wrong person too far.
Slavery is an Abomination. Some say that nearly a third of River Kingdoms inhabitants are escaped slaves or the descendants of escaped slaves. Even more people narrowly avoided slavery to flee to the Kingdoms. The Swordlords of Mivon are one such group. Two hundred years ago they fled the onslaught of Choral the Conqueror, making their way south from Rostland past the Narlmarches to escape what they considered slavery to a madman and his dragon minions. For two hundred years they have remained entrenched in their new home, practicing the Aldori Dueling form and, some say, perfecting it beyond even that of the Swordlords of Restov. Don’t insult anyone in Mivon, lest you find yourself called to duel in the Sevier.
From Mivon, instead of making your way northeast toward Restov, you are forced to circle west, up through the swamps of the Hooktongue Slough, an unpleasant journey in winter months. In days past, you could have just traveled up the Little Sellen River to the Shrike, crossed through Candlemere and the Tuskwater, and from there traveled overland until reaching the South Rostland Road at Oleg’s, where you could then make your way to Restov with no worries. However, You Have What You Hold in the River Kingdoms, and bandits – and worse – still hold sway in the Kamelands, regardless of your accomplishments.
Which makes what you did during midsummer of 4708 that much more important…
You remember approaching the bandit fort from the north. It was situated on a hillock above the Tuskwater, looking out over a commanding view of that lake at the mouth of the Shrike River. A narrow path wound up the hillside approaching the fort, a full 300 feet from the woods’ edge to the gate in the wooden palisade. Fifteen feet high, consisting of logs and sharpened stakes, the wall looks to be a recent addition to the hilltop. Within, you can see the crumbling remains of stone buildings. One roof seems to have collapsed entirely, and the remnants of a stairway rise up out of it, leading nowhere. Wooden towers have been constructed on the shell of the old ruins, three that you can see, all roofed over against the elements. In the tower next to the gate, you can see a man watching the road. He isn’t paying much attention, it seems, as the dead that surround the fort are a far better deterrent than the arrows of this lone sentry.
But you know the pass phrase: By the bloody bones of Saint Gilmorg. The dead are supposed to let you by if you utter that phrase. And you put it to the test…
The army of charua-ka was shattered by the defeat of their Anghazhan champion, and retreated into the jungle from whence they came. For several days, not a single sighting of the bestial ape-men was reported by the watchers on the tower gate. When one was spotted by a group of outriders, it kept its distance, merely watching as the patrol went about its task. When the men pulled the massive head of the Anghazhan from under the tarp that concealed it upon the wagon, the charua-ka hooted in fear and scampered back into the trees. After mounting the head on a pile of stones at the top of the trail leading down to the valley, the patrol returned to the palisade, and from that point on the archeological site was left in peace.
Raimondo was sent back to Bloodcove, and a second shipment of goods arrived within two ten days, accompanied by tonics and potions from Rulkep. With the rope and tools the shipment brought, repair on the palisade walls and the destroyed tower was able to be completed. A note from the Pathfinder Society promised that representatives would make the journey shortly to verify the find, and Destiny’s place in the Chronicles was assured. It also warned of increased interest from the Aspis Consortium, stating very plainly that the group of “adventurers” that had passed through Bloodcove recently was being actively hunted. There was a strong suggestion that the group makes itself scarce or it would face a foe beyond their scope that was interested in exacting a price from their skins. Reimbursement for the rescue they enacted was also provided.
Captain Colgardie seemed to have found that note amusing, and in the true spirit of the mercenary ways of the Aspis Consortium, offered you a way off of Azlant Ridge. His price: he wanted to accompany his benefactors back to the lands they spoke so much about, as he felt the “earning potential” in that area was significantly better than that offered by the jungles of the Mwangi. Besides, he had a dagger that needed to be returned to its owner some day, and if the owner insisted on returning to these “Stolen Lands,” it seemed only right that Colgardie follow.
He led you northwest, on an arduous journey through the Terwa Uplands and to the small coastal town of Port Peril, a smuggler’s cove with strong ties to the Shackles Pirates. There, he had no trouble securing passage on a ship bound for the Inner Sea. It seemed Alizandru Kovack, the captain of the Jenivere, owed Colgardie a favor, and passage for seven people and their horses exonerated him of his debt. After a stop in Ilizmagorti, the Jenivere made call on the port of Corentyn at the far southwest edge of Cheliax. There, the sight of the Arch of Aroden, the broken span that once linked the continents of Avistan and Garund, was as awe inspiring as any sight could be. From Corentyn, you made your way east to the famed shipyard of Cassomir in Taldor, at the mouth of the Sellen River, the largest watershed on Avistan.
Beyond Taldor’s borders, where you followed the Sellen River north, the rough and tumble ways of the River Kingdoms held sway. Here, so long as you held to the River Freedoms, you were left to yourself. There were six freedoms in all, listed here from least to most grave:
Say What You Will, I Live Free. Riverton, on the shore of the Kallas Lake, embodies this law. Ruled by a Theocracy devoted to Hanspur, the river god, these people cared not for the oppression of the “empires” of the south. In the River Kingdoms, they were able to speak their minds, regardless of how demented their minds might be. For the right price, however, the inhabitants of Riverton made excellent pilots for the myriad twists and turns of the Sellen Riverways, pilots who knew how to keep their questions to themselves.
Oathbreakers Die. Hymbria, on the banks of the East Sellen River, is inhabited by elves. Nowhere did it become plainer that keeping one’s oath in the River Kingdoms was a matter of life and death, not just one of honor.
Walk Any Road, Float Any River. Ordinarily, the words of this law are interpreted to mean merely that no toll may be enforced to travel the rivers and roads of the kingdoms, but that doesn’t mean that safety is implicit, even from the lord of the land. Liberthane, on the edge of the Embeth Forest, was an obvious anomaly among the River Kingdoms. Its ruler, Achille Parsall, truly believes in this law, protecting the people of his small kingdom with a fervor bordering on zealotry.
Courts are for Kings. In Nystra, buried within the forest to the east of the Sellen River, it is said that the rulers of the land were wont to play cruel games with their citizens. Within the River Kingdoms, that was their prerogative, as courts are for kings, not the common man. But Nystra was a perfect example of what happens when even a king goes too far. The strong rule in the River Kingdoms, and now Nystra stands silent tribute to the violence that can be the result of pushing the wrong person too far.
Slavery is an Abomination. Some say that nearly a third of River Kingdoms inhabitants are escaped slaves or the descendants of escaped slaves. Even more people narrowly avoided slavery to flee to the Kingdoms. The Swordlords of Mivon are one such group. Two hundred years ago they fled the onslaught of Choral the Conqueror, making their way south from Rostland past the Narlmarches to escape what they considered slavery to a madman and his dragon minions. For two hundred years they have remained entrenched in their new home, practicing the Aldori Dueling form and, some say, perfecting it beyond even that of the Swordlords of Restov. Don’t insult anyone in Mivon, lest you find yourself called to duel in the Sevier.
From Mivon, instead of making your way northeast toward Restov, you are forced to circle west, up through the swamps of the Hooktongue Slough, an unpleasant journey in winter months. In days past, you could have just traveled up the Little Sellen River to the Shrike, crossed through Candlemere and the Tuskwater, and from there traveled overland until reaching the South Rostland Road at Oleg’s, where you could then make your way to Restov with no worries. However, You Have What You Hold in the River Kingdoms, and bandits – and worse – still hold sway in the Kamelands, regardless of your accomplishments.
Which makes what you did during midsummer of 4708 that much more important…
You remember approaching the bandit fort from the north. It was situated on a hillock above the Tuskwater, looking out over a commanding view of that lake at the mouth of the Shrike River. A narrow path wound up the hillside approaching the fort, a full 300 feet from the woods’ edge to the gate in the wooden palisade. Fifteen feet high, consisting of logs and sharpened stakes, the wall looks to be a recent addition to the hilltop. Within, you can see the crumbling remains of stone buildings. One roof seems to have collapsed entirely, and the remnants of a stairway rise up out of it, leading nowhere. Wooden towers have been constructed on the shell of the old ruins, three that you can see, all roofed over against the elements. In the tower next to the gate, you can see a man watching the road. He isn’t paying much attention, it seems, as the dead that surround the fort are a far better deterrent than the arrows of this lone sentry.
But you know the pass phrase: By the bloody bones of Saint Gilmorg. The dead are supposed to let you by if you utter that phrase. And you put it to the test…
Azlant Ridge...The End
The battle had begun...and we were quite literally in the middle of it this time. Hell, aren't we 'always' in the middle of it?
The Charua-ka had attacked, and they had summoned their great demonic ape champion. This thing was a creature to behold. Nearly 20' tall, the monster was able to pull trees out by the roots and hurl them like a child throwing sticks.
By this time we had penetrated quite far into the ancient complex, to find a strange stone plinth. Carved with odd symbols it glowed rhythmically and had some type of niche holding a strange globe of sorts.
Elsbeth, ever the careful one (yeah, right), carefully made her way into the room and checked over the strange artifact. With no apparent way to interact with the plinth, we couldn't figure out a way in which to free the "stone" globe. For stone is what we believed the thing to be made of...although it certainly did have very odd properties, like the strange glow for instance.
After some very careful observation, and no small amount of hemming and hawing by Ix, Elsbeth found that the globe was held in place by a set of pincers. And lo and behold, Ix had a magical spell prepared that cast a sheen of grease upon the pincers...and it was then an easy task to tug it free.
As this was taking place, I was checking the walls, which were covered ceiling to floor with glyphs and writing of some sort. Near the back wall though I found a very strange pattern, not unlike the one of the front doors. The same pattern that destiny manipulated in order to pass through the stone portals. And wonder of wonders, as soon as Elsbeth pulled the key free, the pattern changed! But it was not until later that I was to figure out why...
Worse came to worse for the defenders and Durvil, seeing the carnage that the Charua-ka had wrought, hustled back in to elicit ou aid...and post haste I might add. Somehow I ended up with the key..and it occurred to me that the key had been glowing like that great big sphere outside. Maybe there was some type of connection.
So as we emerged into the chaotic press, that's where I headed immediately.
The champion of the Charua-ka broke through the barrier like a bull through reeds. On it came, bellowing and swatting the defenders left and right. Durvil, ever the brave fool, took a stand, called out the name of "Otterson!" at the top of his lungs and charged the monster with a leveled lance. The short of it was; It didn't go well. He was swatted aside and left for dead. But as we all know, Durvil is one stubborn son of a bitch. He wasn't about to die easily.
Approaching the glowing sphere is when things got weird for me. One instant I was standing amidst screaming men and monkeys: The next, I was peering down at a stone floor from on high. A moment of confusion reigned, but I soon figured out that I was back in that strange tomb / museum. So I moved to leave immediately to help my friends. What sort of witchcraft I had befallen, I did not know. But I needed to get out to my comrades quickly. And that's when I noticed that not only was my point of observation, or my sight, skewed, but my arms and legs felt strange.
In fact, my whole body felt extremely odd! I tried to recall how much, and of what I had drunk. No, that wasn't it. I looked down and saw that I was made of Iron! Truly and amazing thing!!!
But still, the need called: My friends were out there being slaughtered by that giant gorilla creature.
I emerged into the sunlight and the monkey beast spied me immediately. It bellowed out a massive challenge and charged to meet me. I did the same of course...I was after all a massive iron titan of fable! Sure I couldn't move as gracefully, but I made up for that in sheer size and bulk. I was heavy!! And IRON!
The fight erupted, and even though I couldn't physically feel pain, I realized right away that this monster was no pushover. Even though it was "flesh and blood" it was demonically infused...And fought as such: Like a demon. I tore away at my new iron body, and nearly had me, but in the end, those massive iron fists won out, and the creature crashed to the ground, defeated.
And with that, the Charua-ka melted away into the jungles like the morning mist with the rising of the sun. We had won the day!
Days later and we were cleaned up and ready for travel. Our new "companion", Captain Colgardie agreed to put aside his duel with Durvil for another day and pursue more lucrative concerns in the north.
And with that we set off, back north to further adventure!
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