28 - The Challenges of Bloodstone

Here the narrative is picked up again by the shifter Cyzicus of the Eldeen, a Loreguard ranger.

* * *

Really, I shouldn’t be here in Graywall at all; instead I should be travelling over the Byeshk Mountains, trying to reach the Eldeen as swiftly as possible. I must deliver Wolaf’s final testament to Koruun and alert him to the new danger that threatens Eberron. I fear that I’ve failed to impress my allies with a sense of the terrible urgency with which this matter should be treated. At the same time, I see that they must prepare themselves for the journey yet to come, and Graywall looks like the least dangerous place for many miles around to provide what they need. Still, patience is hard, and I am a shifter of very little brain. Perhaps if I can persevere through all the complications and dangers our band always attracts I can gain some small portion of wisdom.

I have found two brights spots during our stay in this city of monsters. I was able to buy many arrows here and experienced the warm, content feeling one can only know when bearing almost one hundred arrows in one’s quivers. Better still, Cypher informed me that he can fully mend any damaged arrow as long as I can recover its components. The rest of our visit has unfortunately been filled with the usual threats and unprovoked attacks from complete strangers.

Our detour into the Goblin Market on the way to the gates of Calabas yielded a vial of scorpion venom for Xoma, though it took all of his and Cypher’s efforts to get the elderly goblin vendor to reach an agreement. I didn’t get the details as most of the transaction took place in the Goblin tongue, but I saw Xoma hand over not only gold, but also containers of goop harvested from the wyverns and carrion worms we’ve faced.

In truth, I stood off to the side while that was going on, along with Magnus, Doongul and Trug. Doongul seemed intent on revealing Onatar’s light to the young goblin, and told him it was the god who had healed his orc-inflicted wounds. I don’t think Trug understood it—he seems too hung up on the Dark Six to recognize that benevolent deities even exist. At least he’s started to imitate Doongul’s characteristic, peg-legged gait.

We felt little surprise when we reached the Calabas gates and didn’t find Sa-Jira waiting. However, after just a few minutes the sharp-eyed Doongul, Cypher and Xoma took note of a half-elven woman clad in gray and blue leather armor. She had a bandage on one arm and carried a bloody kukri. Xoma hailed her and quickly learned that she was looking for us. The woman gave her name as Drivinia, and said she was a friend of Sa-Jira's and owed the medusa a favor—something the medusa desperately needed now. She went on to say we would have to travel to the House of the Hand on the Street of Shadows in Bloodstone, the city’s largest district. This House of the Hand is some sort of sanctuary for worshipers of the Mockery, one of the Dark Six, perhaps the sort of god Trug could relate to as a Droamm resident. Drivinia also said that the House’s abbot is away, supposedly making it more “safe” to venture there.

According to the half-elf woman, she and Sa-Jira believe that the House of the Hand is in league with the Howling Wind, the harpy pack outlaws who we fought with outside Graywall. Occyra, the harpy Xoma battled, may have reached Graywall and convinced the monks of the Mockery to abduct her. "They have taken her captive," Drivinia said. "You do not want to be taken alive by servants of the Mockery."

No one questioned the words of the Brelish scout—for that is what her armor proclaimed her to be—and we set off. It seemed as though Drivinia’s scars and the shape of her once-broken nose kindled fond memories of Seren women for Magnus. Unless she sprouts a glossy coat of fine fur, I won’t stand in his way.

Random violence dropped on our heads once again: In Bloodstone, a trio of gargoyles we hadn’t seen before descended in front of Cypher, and challenged him to face their champion in mortal combat. The creature claimed to have killed members of each of our races (which Xoma seemed offended by), but had not yet faced off against a warforged before.

After due consideration, the warforged consented. The gargoyles offered a prize if he won: a full backpack of obvious Cyran origin and all its contents. A crowd of Graywall’s citizens including harpies, half-orcs, gnolls, and goblins quickly gathered to watch the free entertainment.

Spittle began to fly as Cypher conferred with Xoma in some sibilant language, probably Draconic. Cypher chose dagger and shield as his arms, and the drow handed him the magical dagger that was wrested from the margoyle’s corpse in Paluur Draal. Xoma argued the terms of the combat while Cypher surreptitiously used a number of magical infusions to prepare for the battle. Doongul blessed everyone in our band, while the crowd and gargoyles grew restless and it looked like we were all headed for a fight.

The fight turned out to be a short one. Striking with the grace of a cat, Cypher landed a flurry of blows that flashed like lightning and boomed like thunder, staggering the gargoyle with every strike. However, his foe’s attacks were effective even against whatever magical protection Cypher used, and it looked as the monster might still win. Doongul stepped up to heal Cypher, and earned a scornful comment from one of the harpy spectators. The healing was enough to give Cypher the strength to deliver a killing blow.


The gargoyle’s comrades refused to yield the pack, Magnus pressed the issue, a gargoyle attacked him, and the fight was on. In the chaos, the pack was tossed up onto an eave, Rendar joined Magnus in melee, Cypher passed the magical dagger back to Xoma, I fired a pair of arrows that missed their mark, and Xoma used his thunderwave spell to shift everyone around and injure our foes. Xoma brought down another gargoyle with the dagger, and the last gargoyle fled up the side of a building.

The crowd surged forward, but that’s when the harpies began to sing. Just as Magnus and myself had found ourselves charmed in earlier encounters with the bird-women, so was the crowd soothed. The leader of the harpies tossed the Cyran pack to Cypher accompanied with the words “It was a good show.” She then turned to Doongul and threatened to tear out his tongue if she ever heard him speak the name of his god in front of her again. Crazy she-fiend.

Drivinia urged us to move on, but Xoma insisted we linger to see the effect the magic dagger had on the dead gargoyle. Almost immediately its corpse began to increase in size and to stir, drawing material to its body from the street and reddish stone from the walls. Minutes passed before it rose to its feet as a fully formed margoyle to face Xoma. The strain of some great exertion was written clearly on the drow’s face as he spoke with it and asserted his role as its master. The conversation ended when the margoyle ambiguously stated “I will find you.”

We resumed our progress toward the Street of Shadows. As we passed through a side street, Drivinia advised us to look at the ground, not the walls around us which seemed to emanate an enchantment that caused dizziness. She explained that it was a mind flayer who governed Graywall—named Xochyllic—had set this up as some sort of security measure. I shuddered at the thought of a pawn of Xoriat wielding such power, even in a city with such dubious inhabitants.

In the Street of Shadows we passed many shrines to foul demons and gods attended by equally foul worshipers before we arrived at the House of the Hand. We passed into an entry courtyard that featured some sort of charnel pit, complete with the burnt, bloody marks of sacrifice. A young woman with Thranish features stood on the opposite side of the pit, over the slain body of a young man who bore a strong familial resemblance to her. She wore a single gauntlet with spikes on the inside and blood trickled from self-inflicted wounds. There also seemed to be tears in her eyes, yet she stood in a composed and resolute manner.

Doongul called on the power of Onatar (or “Ontara” as Trug would say), speaking a single world of command: “Grovel.” Magnus moved forward to knock her unconscious, but the young woman dealt him a forceful kick that left him stunned. Xoma cast a web spell on the door behind her to block any reinforcements and bind the acolyte herself, Rendar smashed her shoulder with a thrown hammer, and I wasted a couple more arrows. The recovered Magnus brought the handle of his mace down on her skull and knocked her out. We bound her, then turned to the door into the House of the Hand and waited for Xoma’s spell to wear off.

#27 - Calabas and the Unfair Fight

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

Comfy beds.

Comfortable beds in an inn are about the best use of gold that can be found on this strange continent. This lesson I have learned more than any since leaving Seren. The particularly soft beds at the Golden Dragon were the best yet.

We awoke in the evening, after a long sleep, rest, meditation or puttering. Each of us was again transformed towards another step toward our true draconic selves. Does the great red wyrm not lie comfortably upon a bed of gold? Personally I feel much more durable and nimble, though I hear there are new spells and perfected skills among the others. If there is one thing I could bring to Seren from all this mainland gew-gaw, it would be an enclave of "Ghallanda" halflings and their comfortable beds.

We met in the lobby, ate dinner, and did not make plans to leave immediately. They wanted to stay in the city seeking commerce, thinking they have treasure to spend. It’s as if these men have never seen treasure, or even heard tales of treasure. Treasure is kept by dragons, in mounds.

We have some scavenged weapons, armor and sticky bits to try to sell and then to buy other stuff. It is much easier and saner to seek treasure and experiences in adventure. Pillaging the hordes of fell creatures is the source of true wealth and greatness! Not only that, but were were in a a city made up of fell creatures. We should have immediately figured out a way to destroy the whole city and reap the bounty! As it is, we seem to be on our way to do some shopping and then meet up with the youth medusa (wild adventure indeed!).

Oh yes, and speak with a gnome. We have crossed the continent and there are gnomes even here. This one called herelf Fherina Hartsdale, so Xoma has said, and said she was in Graywall looking for an uncle, or something. I cared little and ate more instead.

After this, we make our way to the market through the "normal" quarter, Calabas. Cypher stuck out and people noted all that we did. Another reason I don’t like cities. It was very different at night in this city. Unpleasant monsters wheeled through the sky and perched on buildings. They largely kept out of this quarter of the city, but we could see them there. Harpies and gargoyles, mostly. There was also a cluster of tents around the square. They called this the Goblin Market, and indeed we saw many goblins about, even an ogre or two in the company of orc or half-orc.

On the way to a merchant's trading house that we'd been recommended to, we crossed the great square and saw two notable things: an Unfair Fight between a big orc and a goblin kid, and a warforged chained to a wall.

Cypher and Xoma went to look at the warforged. They learned that he was indeed owned and put to work hauling things and guarding stuff.  He would not discuss his owners, but he did speak and said his name was Grapnel. Is not a grapnel a grappling hook? A device with hooks, a tool. Warforged and those who keep them are strange.

The rest of us went to see to the Unfair Fight. The orc was kicking the kid around and Rendar spoke up. A little standoff occurred and Rendar (and the rest of us!) managed to scare off the stupid orc. He gave the kid one more kick, then skulked off to stand at the edge of the crowd, watching us.

The kid was filthy, bloody, with a smashed face and teeth. A street urchin. Probably thousands just like him in this city. But for reasons I cannot imagine, Doongul healed the goblin with a spell, then HIRED HIM as a guide. No sooner were we rid of Halbazar than we were childsitting again. This kid is in for a ride. His name is Trug. Perhaps he'll die in our company, or perhaps not. Doongul seemed to have taken a liking to him. Doesn't change the fact that he's a goblin.

We went into the shop and sell our stuff—including that ancient hobgoblin armor—for a magic ring. To me, that was a lot of hauling stuff around for a little band of gold. Xoma took the ring, assuming it will actually protect him. Maybe we should give it to the kid—he looks easy to kill—who would benefit the most, hah!
Speaking of the kid, while Doongul was asking about buying cloth for the boy (huh?!), the goblin wandered out toward the door of the shop....and he was grabbed right out of the doorway.

We scattered out of the shop to see a man in a robe a few yards out. Big, strong. Like me, perhaps, but bald, and...with reptilian eyes and greenish, scaly skin. The others suspect he is related to the medusas. I suppose this is what a male could look like. Meanwhile, the goblin kid was being held by some gargoyle henchmen right above us.

But this was a better development. It was time to FIGHT!

But no. Suddenly we were TALKING to the creep, who told us that we were seen entering the city with the medusa girl (Sa-Jira), and that she had never returned home. Her mother—"the Ambassador"—was holding us responsible. We would have to find Sa-Jira and bring her back to her mother's house before dawn or be handed over to the “Flayer Guard”—which sounds extremely sucky.

I am betting the medusa girl is drunk somewhere, or under a some guy's’ python, if you follow my meaning. Instead of killing the man where he stood and setting fire to the whole city, we agreed to the deal and made our plans to look for her. The gargoyle dropped the goblin into our waiting arms. Now we’re working for monsters.  Cities make us all crazy, I guess. But at least we are above ground.

Xoma wanted to do some more shopping (buying poison) and we all went into a clothing store. Ugh! Next we plan to see if the medusa girl keeps her appointment with us in an hour—we were supposed to meet her after twelve hours—or if we have to go crawling through this monster city looking for a runaway medusa with mother problems.

I should have stayed in the comfy bed.

#26 - Entering Graywall

Scribblings of a Warforged Scholar On Adventure

Sa-Jira led us on a forced march through the night in order to reach the Droaam city of Graywall without encountering any further resistance.  She showed no evidence of tiring but my companions were certainly feeling the effects of lack of rest.

When warforged wax philosophical (and Shakesperean).

Of course I had no issues with the journey but it did make me ponder the experience of most living creatures. Exhaustion is such an integral part of most creatures' lives, dictating the schedule around when to perform tasks and forcing them to expend resources of time and money on rest and relaxation. It makes for quite the inefficient lifestyle, but it is so very common. I imagine most warforged take for granted the fact we do not need rest to survive, unlike these brittle creatures of Khorvaire. As a trained Artificer, I of course require moments of concentration to gather the magical entities needed for my infusions but for me this time is a pleasurable distraction from the monotony of most duties. I cannot truly imagine how sleeping uselessly on the ground can be anything but an unfortunate tactical disadvantage.

While contemplating this point, some of the party members began reacting negatively to a strange scent. I noticed it too, although it's unpleasantness did not hinder me in any way. The smell seemed to come from Magnus, Doongul, and myself and I were able to determine that the mysterious black eggs were the source.

They had completely degraded within our packs, covering several items. Sa-Jira noted the mess and smell with great distress. She called them "blackshells," and it seems they were some sort of alchemical "gnoll trick." The medusa said they would attract ankhegs quickly. Now that they had transformed into a gooey, odorous substance, the large insects would soon be upon us.

"The hills are infested with ankhegs," Sa-Jira said.

Magnus took off his almost-bare pack and sling, which were now ruined, and lofted it as far as he could away from the party. Doongul lost his fuller pack to the same fate. I rid myself of the pouch that held the egg but I was reluctant to give up the valuable Khyber dragonshard that I had procured from the airship back near Darguun. While not everyone in the party was happy with my delay—most notably Sa-Jira—Xoma suggested we might use the acid-slime we took from the gelatinous cube to clean off the egg residue from the dragonshard. I knelt on the ground and carefully applied my vial of  cube slime over the Dragonshard.  It wasn't enough, so I used Xoma's second vial as well.

But not before an ankheg burst from a fresh hole in the ground! The massive insects spat streams of acid and managed to spray my companions.

While I hastily finished cleaning the dragonshard, the others were able to dispose of the creature. Another ankheg emerged nearby but this time Rendar and Magnus were ready for it. They flanked the hole and set up an ambush. The ankheg emerged from the hole with such force that Rendar was pushed back several feet. He managed to recover, however, and the ambush was successful. Rendar slashed at the ankheg's armored carapace and Magnus landed a crippling blow from the rear. The ankheg was so turned around that Xoma was able to stab it from behind also. I had no trouble felling the beast with a magical bolt loosed from my armbow.

New holes appeared nearby with two more ankhegs. These alchemical blackshells must be potent indeed! Magnus and Doongul started pummeling one of them with mace and thunder. Cyzicus provided the killing blow, shearing its head off with his scimitar. I noted that this was his first successful attack since starting the forced march, perhaps he needed rest more than his pride was willing to admit.

Rendar went to attack the final ankheg but Sa-Jira warded him off; she told him simply to avert his eyes.  Thankfully he heeded her advice because no sooner did she turn to the ankheg than it was immobilized by the young medusa's gaze. Once paralyzed, it was a simple matter to dispose of the creature, but I was intrigued to witness another of the medusa's attacks. Sa-Jira unleashed her venomous snakes on the defenseless ankheg, causing significant damage. I would not soon forget that powerful attack from the fledgling medusa.

We marched even faster now, weary of another ankheg attack.  There were no more surprises, however, and we reached the gates of Graywall by mid-morning. It was a welcome site to see, if not exactly beautiful.  Graywall is a fairly new city built atop ancient Draakani ruins, but the buildings were built by monstrous peoples of Droaam and the aesthetic is entirely alien to that of the Five Nations.

Sa-Jira told us we could come rest at her mother's house in the city. This seemed to me like an intriguing adventure—oh what could be learned by meeting a mature medusa! But I was alone in my interest and it was decided we would head to Calabas, the foreign ghetto of the city where all of the less monstrous races gathered to live. While marching through the winding avenue of city, I caught the words of a passing half-orc, who referred to Calabas as quartering the "runoff from the Five Nations."

Calabas is the goblin word for "kennels," as in dog sanctuary, a great irony were you to ask most members of the common races. In my experience as a warforged, xenophobia is a universal truth and therefore Calabas is not ironic at all, just unfortunate.

On the way to the Calabas, I took note of how strange it was to be in a true monster city, to see ogres and gnolls walking amidst houses and buildings. While we didn't run into any trouble on our way through the city—Sa-Jira's presence parted most of the crowds—I did feel like we were being watched, especially me; I didn't see a single warforged in the city. We passed a few minor brawls on our short path to Calabas. The medusa said there is an arena in Graywall and I wondered if Magnus would find himself there at some time during our stay.

We arrived at the gate to Calabas. The gate was open with no one to impede our entrance, but there were several orcs in the livery of House Tharashk standing guard. Rendar d'Tharashk went forward to the guards, boldly displaying his dragonmark. It was an unnecessary maneuver but perhaps he was trying to impress us with the power of his noble birth. Needless to say, the guards acknowledged him immediately, called him "my lord," and answered all of our questions about Calabas. Battling in the tunnels beneath the surface world, it has been easy to forget that my companions come from very different walks of life. Rendar is a dragonmarked heir, and in some places that commands instant respect.

At the center of Callabas was a great square dominated by a mighty statue of a dragonne, symbol of House Tharashk. Notable were the lodging options available to us. While there were some cheaper options, we decided to stay at the Golden Dragon for at least the first night. The Golden Dragon is a well-known chain of inns curated by the dragonmarked halflings of House Ghallanda.

Before settling in for the night, however, we decided to go to the Jorasco House of Healing we spotted, to see if anything could be done with our unfortunate friend Halbazar. The Jorasco apprentices at reception did their best to be hospitable but halfway into our description of the events that took Halbazar from us they excused themselves and returned with a true heir of Jorasco named Hahlo.

The aged halfling asked us some more questions and his assistants recorded our story. We tried not to divulge too much but finally felt it necessary to admit that the incident happened in Darguun. The healer wondered why we hadn't sought the help of a larger, better suited enclave in one of the many cities between Graywall and Darguun l but at this point it was made clear to him that we had no further information to help him. He took the hint and suggested that he take Halbazar for 24 hours of close watch and care. In one day he would perhaps know more. Finally rid of the constant burden of our fallen comrade, we headed to the Golden Dragon for some much needed rest.

#25 - The Serpentine Damsel

Here the narrative is again written by Xoma of the M’jai family, drow wizard of Xen'drik.

* * *

The column of flame came from nowhere.

I was nowhere near its point of impact, having chosen wiser ground, but the dwarf and half-orc were not so lucky. The damage from the flames appeared severe, but we had enough magical healing resources to keep the fight going. Rendar went down, but Doongul stood firm and we knew if anyone could save the half-orc, it would be him. The Tharashk was back on his feet again soon after.

Magical fire does not often descent from the sky of its own volition, though there was that time in the jungles when… Well, I digress.

It soon became evident that there was some sort of female shaman hiding in a carved tunnel at the bottom of the ankheg hole. The gnoll may have been savage—and who could knock her for that?—but she lacked nothing in potency. Even Doongul was stricken briefly by a spelling of holding, though he shrugged it off in short order.

I decided that Rendar would make a good elevating conveyance, so I placed my newly mastered levitate spell on him, much to his confusion, and ordered him to go down and up the hole, ferrying people into the tunnel. 

It was a fine plan. Really. It was. We had no way of knowing that the shaman would bathe the tunnel in magical silence. After Rendar and Cyzicus went down into the tunnel, it became impossible to speak or be heard. This made it much harder for us to continue using Rendar as a magical transportation system. No one could communicate what was happening down there, so my plan started to unravel.

But there was an upside to the situation, such as it was. Another harpy started to sing her seductive tune up above the gnoll battlefield. Because Rendar and Cyzicus were down below, they could no longer be affected by the she-creature’s song. Such could not be said of Magnus, who, for the second time in two battles, lost control of his mental faculties. 

They really do need to teach self-control among the barbarians of the Seren tribes. Perhaps Magnus took ill during such lessons. But then he’s not the only one to have fallen to such powers in our party. Perhaps it’s just that they’re so…mortal.

So Magnus started to follow the flying, flirting harpy like a massive barbarian puppy. That was something that I could not allow to continue. I hurled a ray of devastating necromantic energy at the harpy, causing her to screech in pain and fear. The spell also disrupted her song, allowing Magnus to regain his faculties. He hurried into the pit to assist the others in fighting the shaman and her two hench-gnolls.

That left me to battle the harpy. She did not seem pleased. I hurled blast after blast of magical energy at her, alternating with devastating strikes with my boomerang. The harpy screeched in pain and fear, exclaiming, “What are you doing here, drow?” Apparently, she didn’t know.

“I’m here to kill you,” I said. 

I dogged her, continuing my onslaught of ranged devastation. She flew off, but it wasn’t pretty. I made an enemy of the harpy that day. Bring it on, bird-brain!

By that point, my companions had managed to defeat the she-gnoll and her goons—which is to say, the shaman fled into the maze of tunnels but her defenders were slain. I heard that Cyzicus made good use of his keen shifter senses to see past the gnolls to their leader. He may have fleas, but no one can deny his skill with a bow. Doongul lent a hand with blasts of holy fire, while Magnus and Rendar pulverized and eviscerated gnoll bodies, respectively.

I suspect that Cypher may have thrown some magic missiles or conjured some cute little magical lights…

After the battle, we discovered that the gnolls had left some of their provisions behind. Most of what we found was useless, but I spied a number of components that I could use in the familiar-summoning ritual I’ve been hoping to perform this entire week. There was some coinage and three curious black eggs that seemed to be of alchemical alteration.

Along with the provisions, we discovered the gnolls' captive—the very woman who helped us climb out of the caves at that tower in exchange for the "goblin's key." We were somewhat startled to find the girl to be a young medusa—not yet shed of her adolescence. Quite attractive, in a greenish, scaly, and disturbing sort of way. She struck me as too young to petrify with her gaze, though more than old enough to cause trouble. The gnolls had wrapped her head and torso with a sack, binding her hair of serpents to her. Now they were free to writhe and hiss, but the girl herself was still in shock from her injuries.

The girl, whose name was Sa-Jira, took an immediate liking to Rendar. I honestly don’t understand it, but maybe humanoids who are part animal find an attraction in one another. But then why didn’t she like Cyzicus? Maybe snake-women are more partial to pig-men than fox-men. I guess it could have been his affiliation with the dragonmarked House Tharashk. 

From what I now understand, Tharashk has a major presence in Droaam. Possibly the only agency affiliated with the Five Nations that this nation of monsters respects.  Sa-Jira’s mother is the medusa ambassador in Graywall, so the young girl would have been exposed to the House of Finding. Her mother represents the warlord Sheshka, Queen of Stone, who rules over Cazhaak Draal, a medusa stronghold to the west. 

Sa-Jira is now guiding us to Graywall, probably the only city in Droaam most "friendly" to outsiders. She also said she was "sent" to the Tower of the Shrouds—that is where we surfaced from our underland journeys—to find "the goblins' key." The Tower was situated north of both Grimstone Keep (a gnoll fortress) and Turakbar's Fist (a minotaur citadel).

We assume the goblins' key is Emperor’s Key, though she believes the gnolls have taken it and is distressed by this fact. It was not among the provisions we took. We also do not know who sent Sa-Jira to find it in the first place. We acquired both the real and the fake in Zilargo.

Fortunately, we had given her the false medallion back in this Tower of the Shrouds. The decoy is now in the hands of the gnolls. Sa-Jira remains unaware that we possess the true key, though it is unclear how long we’ll be able to maintain that deception.

As for the gnolls, she says they are renegades. Most gnolls in Droamm serve one of the warlords who on turn serve the Daughter of Sora Kell. They are a trio of hags that once filled the faerie tales—of the not-so-pleasant variety—of the people of Khorvaire. Hags are not unknown in Xen'drek, and I have heard a tale or two of my own.

Evidently these gnolls were allied with a group of harpies who defy the Daughters, a tribe or pack known as the Howling Wind. Sa-Jira fears that the harpy who escaped me—Ocyrra, by name—will entreat the minotaurs of Turakbar's Fist to track us down. However, Turakbar is a minotaur warlord who does pay fealty to the hag rules of Droaam.

In any case, we are marching on through the night until we reach Graywall.

#24 - Reemergence

Wounded, the PCs regrouped on the open plains under the sky. It was a dry, brown-and-gray landscape with scrub brush the only flora, but after all this time underground and possibly in the upper reaches of Khyber, it was good to breath fresh air—particularly for Magnus and Cyzicus, whose wilder upbringings demanded open space.

It was still dark, and harder to discern their location in this new land. By now they assumed—given the presence of gnolls and harpies—that they were in Droaam, the "monster" nation in western Khorvaire across the border from Breland. A dangerous realm, to be sure. But they still didn't know where precisely in Droaam. To the north were mountains; to the west, east, and south, open plains.

Where to go next? They had recovered the strange, serpentine longbow that the woman had carried—the woman who helped them escape from the pit in the watchtower but was herself now gone, possibly captured.

The only landmark at this point was the firelight of a nearby camp just beyond the first of the foothills. Upon seeking it out, even cautiously, they encountered a lone gnoll who rode upon a warg—an intelligent, evil wolf as large as the dire variety. The two immediately attacked. The lone "patrol" was defeated, but not before dealing a few more wounds to the PCs.

Too wounded to investigate the camp, they set out instead to find a safe place to rest for the night. Giving the firelight a wide berth, they went north into the foothills of the mountains, searching for water and shelter. They found a thin mountain stream and cleaned up as best they could in the dark—particularly to mask their scent—then continued to wander on, and up, until they found a place far enough away that they felt safe from being tracked.

They spent the night uneventfully, needing the rest badly. In the morning, with daylight and an overcast sky, they surveyed the land. The gray mountains rose tall above them. Vague winged shapes that were not birds haunted these peaks, seen from only a great distance. On the eastern horizon was the glimmer of water—the sea or perhaps a large lake? To the south, the plains stretched on. They could discern two separate structures, fortresses or citadels: one southwest, one southeast. The PCs decided their course while Cyzicus went off to forge, though the shifter didn't have much luck.

At last, they decided to head to the southeastern castle, whatever it was. As they neared the bottom of the hills, they spied the gnolls again. They were a large group, but they were splitting into two. The PCs decided to follow the small caravan of gnolls that headed eastward, but they waited several hours so as not to be seen (even from the air, in case there were harpies). It also appeared that this group had some sort of captive. The gnolls were also traveling by day, which is unusual as they can see quite well in the dark.

When a safe enough distance was placed between them, the PCs set out after them, easily following their tracks—until it got dark and they had to use Doongul's forgelight spell to look more closely. After marching for hours, halfway through the night, they caught up the gnolls. Who had awaited in ambush. At least some of them.

The husk of a ankheg lay across the ground, and beneath it, an unconscious gnoll who looked to be dead. There were several holes in the ground from where the large insect-beasts had burrowed up from the ground. But if the holes were fakes, they sure looked real...yet it was from these narrow ditches that the gnolls launched their attack. Two archers rose up from three holes and looses their arrows upon the PCs, while a second warg and another gnoll captain charged out of the darkness.

Once again, the PCs prevailed, after taking more wounds and burning through some of their spells. Just when things quieted down, they went to search the ankheg holes, to see if there were any more enemies, or perhaps some loot.

There were more gnolls—at least in one of them. Just as Doongul and Rendar peered down the furthest hole, forgelight held out, they heard a guttural chanting coming from below.

Then a column of fire blazed down from above and engulfed them.

#23 - Shrouds and Songs

As told by Rendar d'Torrn, a bounty hunter of House Tharashk

With the beast down, we were able to take a moment and evaluate.  Cyzicus and I recovered some gnoll arrows, while Xoma set right to work cutting off the eyes and mandibles from the "under-beast"—what we have come to recognize as an umber hulk. If those grisly items come in handy later, he can gloat about it then; I still say they're not very practical.  Cyzicus also inspected the arrow that was loosed from above upon the beast, as it was a most unusual design, with spiraling, serpentine carvings. Unfortunately we could not recover the arrow, as it seemed to be dissolving as we inspected it. It would not be useful. 

Magnus and Doongul had the right idea, though—they spotted moonlight through a window some fifty feet or more above us. I gave them my grappling hook, and they set about using it and Halbazar's rope to get us out of here.  I took up a position at the mouth of the cavern, so as to spot any more gnolls who would hinder our escape.

As I took up my position, I heard the sound of the grappling hook hitting the ground. I glanced back and could see Magnus, rope in hand like he was climbing, and the grappling hook on the ground beside him. Before I could fault my barbarian friend for impatience, I could hear the others conversing with a woman high up about the ledge where they were throwing the grappling hook.  She spoke just loudly enough for us to hear, like she didn't want anyone else to eavesdrop. My companions just called as loudly as they could, calling her to let us up.  

Doongul switched positions and hurled the grappling hook up again, and this time the unidentified woman unhooked it!  She asked who it was that she would be letting up. I returned to my companions and we introduced ourselves. I could see she was a thin woman, with what seemed to be a pale green skin, almost like a half-orc but she was far too slender. She did not believe us when we said we came out of the tomb of the orc, and believed even less our tale of being teleported from Paluur Draal. She asked if we found any treasures in our exploits.  Xoma mentioned the vampiric-smoke decanter, and a few other trinkets were mentioned, but then she cited something called "the goblins' key."

I never should have set foot in that tavern—the Bookmark. Serving coffee instead of proper ale, books lining the walls instead of trophies and weapons. Bah! That key has been nothing but trouble. But as much as I would like to be rid of it, we cannot risk releasing it to those who serve the Dragon Below. Cypher snuck the real key off of his neck while we bargained with the decoy. We tossed it up and after  brief inspection, the woman tossed down a rope-ladder bridge to us and said to hurry, before the "shrouds" came.

A brief glance back the way we came and there was a figure there. Ghostly almost, silent, in the shape a man, but not quite. Wrapped in a black death shroud, no discernible eyes or face. We began climbing the rope bridge. Halbazar climbed at the rear with me, manacled, but not offering resistance. Perhaps our luck had changed.  

Our luck hadn't changed. We heard the sounds of a struggle above us, and a female scream. Then a gnoll appeared, and we knew we weren't getting out without a fight. Severely disadvantaged on the rope, we fought our way up, while more shades appeared behind us. Xoma quickly used his thunder spell, the force of which seemed to break one of the gnolls against the rock wall behind it. Unable to fire my longbow, I threw a hand axe up at the gnoll, but without much success.  Magnus scrambled to the top, and I could hear him raging, and a gnoll fell past us into the pit. Cyzicus also climbed up and began attacking the gnolls. Xoma attempted to stab one of the humanoids in the foot with his dagger, and then climbed over, only to be knocked back off. Cypher was able to catch him just in time, but was forced to drop one of the pieces of armor we collected in the process. Maybe we can go back to collect it....

Not likely. More shades were coming. I slashed at them with my scimitar, but it was doing little at best.  It took Xoma's magic Cypher's touch, and Doongul's spells to obliterate them. Then I heard singing up above, reverberating across the stone walls of the hollow tower we were emerging into. Haunting and beautiful and not necessarily a bad thing. It almost inspired.

When I managed to get to the top, I could see Magnus and Cyzicus had dealt with the nearby gnolls, but Cyzicus was acting...strange. He advanced on the gnolls calmly and what appeared to be an old woman with wings at the opposite end of the chamber, near another exit (Magnus was standing in the doorway of the near one) but he did not attack them. It was clear this bird-woman was working with the gnolls, he wasn't loosing his arrows, what was he doing?  Everyone else managed to get up out of the pit but not in time to stop Cyzicus from disappearing out the other door with the winged woman. A harpy! The source of the beatific singing, with a face uglier than Khyber.

Magnus charged on the gnolls as and felled one, but the other gnoll brought down Magnus with a hard swing of his axe. With Doongul too far away to help Magnus, we then heard Cyzicus scream in pain beyond the open doorway. Xoma managed to get close enough to Magnus to use the vampiric cloud-potion to revive Magnus. Bursting outside, we found Cyzicus had wised up to the harpy's tricks and was fighting her—though she'd already torn ribbons of flesh off him. 

After the harpy and her gnolls were dead, we took stock of where we were. It seemed to be an old watchtower, which had fallen into disrepair. Xoma and Cypher decided to walk through the inside again, to see if we could get that armor back. I walked along outside the south of the tower, while Cyzicus went along the north. Magnus and Doongul stayed where they were.

As Xoma and Cypher got about halfway through the tower, more shades began silently floating up to them.  The pair ran for the far exit, and as they exited, it seemed the shades could not. Tempting fate (no, that's too kind—mooning fate and yelling “Nyah nyah, can't touch this!” is more like it), the pair attacked the shades.  The shades then stepped from the tower and fought back. Magnus ran through the tower to flank the four shades, and as Cyzicus and I rounded the corner to see the fight, we jumped in and lent our aid. Doongul was no where to be seen. His peg leg really slows him down.  

We thought we could make quick work of the shades, but four more rose from the pit. Magnus was no longer two against one (which if they were flesh and bone opponents, I'm sure he could have handled easily) bu six against one. Even a barbarian cannot stand against such foes, especially a half dozen incorporeal, ghastly shades, against whom normal weapons such as swords and maces didn't do well.  

As Magnus made for the other exit, Cyzicus disengaged from the shades we were fighting, perhaps thinking we had everything under control, but likely not wanting to lose any more arrows. Cypher infused my scimitar with some sort of power, and ran after Cyzicus.

Magnus had made it out of the tower, and was rounding the north face, passing Doongul and the manacled Halbazar in the process. I feared the battle would be over before the dwarf got there with his undead-burning spells, but I was unable to land a hit on the shades. Xoma and Doongul put the remainder of the original four shades down with their spells, and we ran after Cyzicus and Cypher.  

As he ranged further, Cypher spotted a bow on the ground.  It looked to be a weapon that could have shot the spiraled arrow we saw in the umber hulk, as it was adorned with serpentine carvings and spirals. Magnus said he'd seen shapes flying off in this southern direction, and so we set off in that direction, giving chase, but also just relishing being in the fresh air again.

It was evening, with the gray moon Barrakas full in the sky, and to the north we could see the light of a camp beyond a low hill. Also in the north, difficult to see in the darkness, loomed the silhouette of mountains. We didn't know where we were just yet.

#22 - Passages and Eyes

Scribblings of a Warforged Scholar On Adventure 

While the party healed and I repaired myself, I took some time to instruct Xoma on the ancient language of the dar. It was very nice to have someone interested in academics, as opposed to mere treasure and glory. In fact, this was such a good time that I made a note to learn a few new languages myself once I've returned to a place of study.

When everyone awoke from the slumber that most living creatures require, I prepared to solve the problem of the spiked pit. All lights were extinguished and I used the Emperor’s Key to command the tomb doors to open once again. They did so with a bit of noise, making me feel uneasy, though nothing amiss occurred. Xoma whispered that he saw a crude barricade erected at the far end of the hallway, atop the pit, and it seemed there may be a tuft of gnoll hair peeking out from the top.  Doongul noted that there was something not quite right about the ceiling above the pit but Xoma climbed down anyway.

The Emperor's Key medallion

He was supposed to signal the rest of us to come follow him by producing a burst of magical fire. However, in a few minutes, he returned and described a trap he had discovered. I detached my new armbow and followed him down, readying my tools and a torch. This is why I was constructed! I was forged for trapfinding, not war. The trap itself turned out to be a simple pressure plate system. I decided that it was better to jam the mechanism—whose full dimensions I could not discern in the darkness—than to disable it outright. Using two daggers that Xoma had been hiding, I carefully jammed the trap at its furthest seam and waited. After just a few seconds, I heard the telltale sounds of a mechanism engaging and then the ceiling broke apart like crumbling dirt. Organic vines shot down from the ceiling! I managed to dodge the vines but Xoma was not so skillful. The drow was summarily hanged by the neck and pulled upward, drawn as high as floor’s original level, thirty feet above the spikes!

As I regained my composure, an arrow pierced the composite plating in my side. The missile originated somewhere by the rudimentary barricade. I tried to spy the aggressor but there was nothing to see there; the torch could not pierce the darkness at this distance. To offset this tactical disadvantage, I hurled the torch up and out towards the barricade, interpolating the distance from how far I had  walked in the pit and where the gnolls were seen previously. The torch landed some distance beyond the crude barrier, silhouetting two creatures I deduced to be gnolls.


Several of the party members immediately made use of the light source and lay siege to the aggressors.  Unfortunately, the gnolls chose an advantageous perch with excellent cover, despite the improvised nature of their barricade. The silhouette effect enabled several of my party members to take aim but they were at a significant disadvantage, especially through the forest of vines now hanging between both parties. Even the hairy Reacher Cyzicus was unable to strike his target, no doubt more upset about the lost munitions than the miss. After dislodging the crude gnoll arrow from my corpus, sensing several droplets of precious alchemical fluid seeping out of the breach in my plating, I realized the severity of my position in the pit, and the even more precarious situation that Xoma faced against these foes. With a well practiced thought, I infused myself with a trace of arcane power and sensed the now familiar feeling of a bolt of pure energy discharging from the middle digit of my right hand. I didn't bother to follow the force missile’s path to its target and instead hurried back towards the near end of the pit; years of study and the past week’s practicum ensure the magic missile will find it’s mark.

After a satisfying "yip!" issued from the targeted gnoll, the far end of the hallway went dark again and the gnoll attacks ceased for the moment. The magic missile had more than the usual effect. My companions began to regroup down in the pit now as the drow disensnared himself. He evoked magical darkness about the far ledge of the pit and the party began making its way up the wall via ropes and grappling hooks thrown by Doongul and Xoma. Upon connecting his hook, Cyzicus wasted no time in reaching the top, shrouding himself in the darkness, followed by Rendar, Doongul, Magnus, and Xoma. It was a curious site to watch the one-legged dwarf shimmy up a rope. They made short work of the three gnolls who waited there. Cyzicus eviscerated one with his scimitar and Magnus sent a spear through the other. With a great deal of yipping, the third ran off down one of the passages. Fifteen arrows and two longbows were recovered and I was hoisted up the rope along with Halbazar, who had been far more compliant since the trip through the portal.

I followed the party down the middle of three cave passages, pursuing the gnoll that fled. I could sense that the air was becoming fresher, perhaps leading out of this cumbersome subterrane. A swarm of bats flew past quite suddenly, startled by something more than mere gnolls. The passage soon ended in a small cavern with a single, prone gnoll. He was severely damaged, one of his arms hacked away and the gnoll himself visibly shaken. He hardly responded to the party’s presence. Apparently our enemies have an enemy of their own.

Two new gnolls suddenly flanked us from behind and, in broken Common, demanded an explanation for our presence and the sad state of their compatriot. Why they did not attack us was unclear. Perhaps they preferred diplomacy to violence, a welcome change in my opinion.  Far too much blood has been spilled on this adventure. One of them asked something about an "under-beast." As Rendar began discourse with the leader, something happened in the cavern.

Entering through one earthen wall was an extremely large, bipedal insectoid that I had never seen before. Bulkier than an insect, possessing a carapace, massive claws, a set of mandibles, and strange eyes, it appeared to be a formidable foe. My companions closest to the creature unleashed their heavy arsenal. Doongul called forth a powerful blow of invisible thunder from the deity Onatar but it proved to have minimal effect. The drow set a magical web upon the creature. This was a new spell he recently studied; I couldn't help but appreciate the wizard’s dedication to the sciences of the arcane. The creature immediately broke free, however, and advanced on Xoma. It was at this point that I got a better, more studied look at the insectoid, at its abnormally placed four eyes...strange eyes...fascinating orbs with a capacity to...confuse?...no, infuse certainty into one's actions...?

...and so I realized suddenly that Rendar had been deceived by the “diplomacy” of the gnolls!

I grabbed the first weapon I could find—my sling, a simple weapon of rapid rotation and release—and launched a bullet at my enemy. A direct hit on the gnoll's forehead. Hah! He hadn't been expecting my initiative, giving me the upper hand in the exchange and him a crack to his skull and immediate sanguine leak. This taught him to mess with a trained scout of Boranel’s-own Construct Engineering Brigade. Rendar finished the job with curious exasperation, perhaps flustered by his misinterpretation of who the true enemies were. I slung another bullet at the second gnoll, who I now realized should have been everyone’s primary target all along!

Yet Xoma, Magnus, and Doongul continued to engage the hulking insect. Foolish! That was not our enemy! Worse, I saw Magnus, that barbarian dolt, turn his formidable bone-spiked mace on Xoma. Why did he do this? In response, the wizard cast an illusion of dazzling blue lights at Magnus and the hulking creature. Had my companions completely lost the capacity for rational thought? Why wouldn't they attack the gnoll aggressors? It seemed I would have to handle this myself.

Between me and Rendar the first gnoll was now disabled, but the second fled—a fact which may prove troublesome later. When I turned back towards the cavern, I saw Rendar—he'd better watch himself—had joined the fight against the insectoid. A previously unseen cloaked figure fired an arrow into the carapace of the creature from high above at the top of the cavern, spurting acid from the breach. I wondered if Cyzicus would like those arrows for his bow.

As I attempted to understand the tactics of this battle, I looked back into the four eyes of the creature and clarity overtook me again! Now that the gnolls had been beaten, this insectoid was the priority threat! I swung my sling again with carefully honed skill, and sent a bullet at the hulk. It lodged directly into one of its great eyes! Boranel would have been proud.

Rendar was finally able to finish off the strange creature after Xoma cast an effective spell of enfeeblement, weakening the monster. The Tharashk half-orc expertly fired an arrow directly into another eye, permanently disabling the creature—as testified by its crashing to the ground. Victory at last but uncertainty gripped me once again. What had it been that those gnolls had been saying?  What was this beast we just defeated?  And who was the cloaked figure?  Things seemed so much simpler during the battle...