Chapter Eight: Under the Dark

Session was held at Backman Bastion 7th of June 2014 AD

It was August 26th 1372DR. After the horrid events at the Ice Fjord that took Nespil Crowgale's life, the crestfallen expedition proceeded into the only viable direction, underground. Even though a menacing sign had been discovered at the entrance, proclaiming that there was no Thule nor wonder that they were seeking, most of the men were committed to continue the cause.

Descending into the realm known as the Underdark, the dwarves Bolwyn Flameblade and Faerhar Bogomoloff took the lead as they both proficient tunnelers and experts of world under the surface. Six days of aimless wandering through most accessible tunnels and caverns finally led the expedition into vast limestone cave full of exciting rock formations known as stalagmites. Judging from the dripping salt water from the ceiling, the dwarves figured that they were beneath that very sea that they saw just before they descended into the tunnels.


Moving on from the cave, it's apparent tranquility was suddenly shattered, as Hórnbori diverged to take a leak. One should never inadvertently piss on slumbering cave trolls dome, as the creature is prone to deliver massive amounts mutilating damage upon that poor souls genital area. Hórnboris most horrendous demise inspired our heroes to charge against the troll, a beast twice the size of an ordinary one. It's hide proved to be keen for mortal wounds and the creature was soon slain. Hórnbori was left into a rubble grave, as the expedition continued deeper into the darkness.

Delving deeper mile after mile, the men soon understood that bringing the dogs with them proved to be a mistake, as the hostile climate was driving the canines mad. Days went past, but  while walking on the rubble bottom of a underground crevice yet another menace engulfed our expedition. Strange aberrations suprised our team by swooping down from the heights- These craetures were part manta ray, part a mundane cloak, and as they plunged upon the terrified men, they wrapped their strange bodies around their victims, biting and strangulating them.
While rest of the party was struggling against flock of these leathery devils, Posco decided to seek better tactical position from darkness. He managed to stumble upon long forgotten piece of weaponry, a enchanted light crossbow known as Victor. There were much joy as the creatures were slain and Posco was somewhat happy about his new treasure.

Journey in the dark continued. A day passed, according to the dwarves who still claimed that they had been tracking expeditions voyage to a detail. But the tunnels came to an end, as a strange white-skinned child was spotted on the edge of torchlight. As our mercenaries advanced carefully to investigate this ghastly sighting, they discovered a full tribe of underground dwelling humanoids. Barely dressed in loincloths, these "men" were almost white skinned, big eared and apparently almost blind. Illumination from the torches seemed to enthrall them. But the most astonishing thing about the discovery was that four human men had been living with these creatures. They were part of late Mordgóin Gemgrinders expedition that had been launched towards the north couple of years ago.
As the cave people did not speak, only gurgled and clickered, the frontman of the four, Varden Diomede introduced the two parties.
He told that their expedition, led by Mordgóin had been crossing a glacial field when crust of ice had collapsed, plunging their party into a icy crevasse. Many died, and the rest wandered aimlessly to the Underdark. They eventually ended up with these cave dwelling degenerates who seemed to be oblivious about almost everything. Mordgóin, Agvidr and Kolsen Lightshank died during their time there from mal-nourishment and sickness. Now all that were left were Varden himself, Adrik the Dwarfsoul, Morten Håk and one handed Tooths Felder. 

Average Underdark degenerate

Varden showed their camp among the cave people. A single withered tent was all that was left from their dream. The cave people (known as Blindies  by Varden) lived in little stone huts, and they stored their food and tools in small holes in limestone cave wall. Among the stone huts there were also small pillars that were made of humanoid skulls, the ancestors of blindies. Every skull in those pillars had a curious hole in the top of dome, it was somewhat similar to short tribal hairpiece that the leader of blindies sported. His name was Red-Eye, he was one exceptionally bright fellow as he even managed to say hello to our expedition.
Behind the huts at the end of the cave was one peculiar spot of a wall, that almost drove poor Mordgóin mad before his death. It was completely smooth stonewall with miniscule lines engraved into it's surface with no apparent reason. Enoch Crowgale was immediately absorbed into it's mystery.

Days passed as the expedition "gathered" their strength in the mirk. The Blindies fed our heroes some Underdark delicacies such as cave fish, isopods and fungi, the reason for Mordgóin's expeditions fate was obvious. Varden Diomede endowed Mordgóins old hammer to Bolwyn. This mighty creation of dwarven forges of Citadel Adbar was a heck of a more use in the hands of Adbarian warpriest than soon-to-be-dead human fool. Gemgrinder was it's name and it proved to be worth of it's name.

Crowgale's transcript 

After a week from their initial arrival, Crowgale declared that he had no clue about the walls meaning. He had studied Mordgóins's notes and made some of his own with little results. But as they were to throw in the towel, Enoch spotted a little cave people child with a strange helmet in it's head. Iron helmet, clearly illuskan made, sporting a distinct tale of a whale as a elaborate nose guard. Crowgale quickly ripped of one of the pages from his notebooks and showed a picture he had copied from some historical volume. The Blindie girl was wearing Valgaerd Whitefarers helmet, Gullhvadr.  This discovery gave them much excitement as they now knew that they were still on the trail despite all the confusion in the dark.

With this new surge of hope, Enoch immersed himself in the notes in hopes to make a groundbreaking discovery. Rest in the other hand idled among the cave people, playing Six-Eyed-Spider and maintaining their gear. But all this came to a halt as the wall began to ripple without warning. Crowgale had nothing to do with this strange phenomenon, as the diminutive lines on the smooth surface began to glow with dazzling luminescence . The wall was morphing into a portal.

Glowing brighter than a pyre, everyone just looked at the light when three roughly humanoid figures emerged from it. And as the light decreased into a soft purple glow, horror broke loose as the figures were identified as mind flayers! Illithids, those creatures of immeasurable cruelty and evil, began bombarding the bystanders with their psionic mind blasts, knocking the weak-willed into a stunned stupor. Also confusing some of the more susceptible for persuasion telepathically to aid them as their defenders, these mind flayers proved to be a genuine obstacle to our heroes. Thanks to Tymoras guidance that day, none was killed and the tentacled aberrations were fend off.

Illustration depicting Illithian practices. 

While recovering their sanity from the previous encounter, someone noticed that the now opened wall led into a new tunnel. Quick preparations were made for the expedition to continue it's journey, while rest of the ill-fated Mordgóin-expedition pledged to join the still existing one. None really cared about the Blindies as their fated seemed somewhat sealed. It was now clear that their ancestors were all lobotomized by the Illithids, as these poor creatures were clearly nothing more than a herd to be harvested.
Delving into the dark once more, a good start came soon to an end as they arrived into a large round room that seemed to be the bottom of some gargantuan hollow cylinder. Narrow stone stairs circled around its' smooth walls, circling slowly upwards. As no other route was accessible, the expedition decided to begun a slow ascend, that would surely pain those with fear of heights.

Bolwyn discovered that the vertical cylider was of dwarwish making, possibly duergarian, and his suspicion proved to be correct as they discovered dwarven runes spelling the legendary name of "Migdhal Wyrdrazh", outpost of the whitening, mythical dwarven northern outpost lost in the sands of time. Whether this cylinder was part of the outpost or not, the expedition was once again inspired to continue onward.

During their ascend, Onarr stumbled and plunged into the dark, but thanks to Poscos quick reflexes and magic, the poor nordman managed to rescue himself back on the stairs. Eventually the cylinder ended, after hours of heavy climbing. At the top there was just an empty round room with one iron trap door in it's ceiling. As men seized their breaths, our heroes investigated the trapdoor. It seemed to bee frozen stuck, and as they managed to prize it open, they saw a thick layer of ice and snow that they'd have to burrow trough. As there could be several feet of the stuff, turns were taken with a pickaxe and a shovel. As the ice was finally broken trough several hours later, celebrations were canceled immediately as Onarr who had landed the final strike against the ice, was instantly snatched up from the trapdoor. Orgot rushed after him, climbing up and peeking out of the hole, witnessing how a huge frost giant hurled the poor man high into the sky.

Orgot pushed himself up and braced to battle against the giant on top of an apparent guard tower on some norther mountain peak. Quick wall of fire sheltered him against the gigantic northern warrior, but as Thelon jumped to aid him, the giant had regained it's strength, an it struck Thelon stone cold with a single mighty swing of it's battleaxe. Covered in his friends blood, Orgot and the rest of the party fought furiously against superior foe, striking it dead with sheer power of will.

As Thelons wounds were being treated, Orgot realized that he had accidentally ignited a signal pyre that had been constructed on this watchtower terrace. And as they peeked over the tall ice walls that acted as railing, they saw a icy vale surrounded by three separate mountain ranges. The vale itself was swarming with the largest assemble of creatures the north had ever seen. Judging from the banners, it was the army of Thrum Vetrvader, the supreme ruler of Kongrike ov Hvítrfjell, the King of the North. 

And now the flaming signal pyre had alerted the others on atop of two other mountains ranges,

 and the army was marching for war.

Chapter Three: Wretches Who Stride Towards Their Doom - Part I

Session was held 16th of February at the Skyhouse of Slumber

"This event often recurs in my dreams. We're travelling through the abandoned mining shafts of Karak-Mons, as they are a valuable shortcut on our way. But out of the blue, these vile creatures assaulted our expedition. How did I not smell their hideous stench nor did I hear their stomping feet and the earth below that cried for every filthy step, 

as they progressed towards us with murder in their minds.

They stroke me apart from my comrades, or was it the fury and ecstasy of the battle that made me forget my place among the ranks. I crack a skull or two, when a new band of enemies push against me. Soon I am trapped under half a dozen hostile mongrels that try to tear me apart, one half-breed on top shouting its mongrel speech, perhaps chanting me as a sacrifice for their murderous and imbecile gods. I bend my head to shout for my comrades for aid, but I see how my fellow Bordfol swings his heavy hammer against one of the supporting wooden pillars of the shaft. 

This... This part of the dream is new to me, I haven't seen it before. Have I forgotten it? At the side of my fellows I see my leader, revered captain Gomerus. But I see no burden of sacrifice in his eyes as they're leaving me behind. No. 

All I see is that he wanted to get rid of me!

Bordfols hammer strikes again and the pillar creaks and the ceiling of the shaft collapses."

-Bolwyn Flameblade from the Clan Mithralheart

"Morning lads!" Nespil Crowgale shouts as he kicks the headboards of our mercenaries beds. Weary travelers had just returned from their scouting mission but now Enoch needs them to further plan their soon upcoming expedition to the north. Loaves of bread in their arms, our sleepy adventurers hustled through the city streets. Summer breeze had finally reached Luskan and life there finally seemed somewhat bearable.

Revealing more than a corner from Valgaerds logbook could cause
some to try an ill-fated expedition by themselves, which would be bad.

Old Crowgale stated that study of the log of Valgaerd the Whitefarer was finally complete and he had made out a destination to pursuit. One of the final phrases of the log implied that they should set their course towards the Ice Wind Pass, one of the northernmost parts of Ice Wind Dale. The phrase goes as following:

"The frozen tree of Ice Wind Pass, where men hang like apples in the ice-carved branches. The apple rosy-cheeked, the Captain alas, he guides your way"

So now as the destination is somewhat clear, it is only a question of how and by who's money. As Enoch had explained earlier, old luskanese lord Konrad Haldurssen was interested in becoming a patron for their expedition, and Enoch was to go and discuss the details of their contract further. Meanwhile, he was still confident that the shortest route to Ice Wind Dale would be by a vessel. The Sea of Moving Ice was rumored to be almost ice-free and Crowgale it was a risk worth taking. Thus he ordered our braves to conduct yet again a short trip to the wharves in order to find a suitable ship and a willing captain to take the expedition through the icy perils of north.

A moment later our lads found themselves from the piers of Luskan. They went for several ships in order to find a captain daring enough to take the risk. Captain Huhtamath from the vessel The Ancient was sceptical about the safety and turned the offer down. Old and rugged ship called Calypsos Cunt had no captain at all as the poor devil hanged from the mast with his first mate due a successful mutiny. Fisherman called Gunnar offered to row them to north with his small fishing boat but our heroes had to turn down the generous offer. Finally the stepped on the the deck of Virgin Ingrid, a sturdy three-masted craft. It's captain was Agmuind Saltskin, a seasoned seawolf with a notorious urge to gamble. He promised to consider their request and even gambled few rounds of Six-Eyed-Spider with our heroes. It is a popular game in the north and here are the rules:

SIX-EYED-SPIDER

• Both players take five six-sided dice. 6 is what you go for as it is the spider that scores a round for you. Both players also nominate one number from 1-5 to be the squasher.

• Then they cast the dice. Both of them count their possible spiders. That whom has more spiders scores a bite for that round. Usually the game is played to 1-3-5 or 10 bites, and that who first reaches that amount wins the game. 

• However, you can "kill" your opponents spiders with your squasher. Let us say that your squasher is number three. 

• You throw 1-1-3-4-6, that be one spider and one squasher.

• Your opponent throws 2-2-4-5-6, that be one spider and no squashers (his squasher was number one)

• Now the round would be a draw as both has equal number of spiders, but as your squasher eliminates your opponents only spider, you win a bite.

• So with luck you could defend yourself against opponents spiders with sufficient amount of squashers even though you'd have no spiders yourself. And in all its simplicity that's about it.

 Our mercenary ship-buyers almost managed double the price for Saltskins seafaring services with few bad rounds but luckily Bolwyn had a wrist of steel and due his efforts they managed to get on the dry.

Deaths constant menace over the
expedition preparations

With the initial contract for a ship, our lads returned to Enoch to inform him about their findings. Crowgale himself had just finished his meeting with Lord Haldurssen, the patron of the expedition. He had mixed news. The good were that Haldurssen was ready to invest 10,000gp to the funding of the voyage, but the bad news were that he wanted to attend the expedition too for reasons unknown. With him about half dozen men. Crowgale was powerless to change his head, and our heroes just had to accept that with the money comes this old geezer in bad health.

Enoch assigned a new task for our heroes. They were to devise an inventory for all the equipment needed in the far north, as chances for receiving any supplies up there were close to zero. Specific quantities of specific items would be examined later as the full party size is confirmed. He also wished that during the next few days the boys would confirm Agmuind Saltskins offer as for the fee. And so, rest of the day was spend at the Seven Sails figuring all the little things that could become handy when the expedition gets real.

Morning came and the sweet scents of summer. These odors were soon forgotten as the lads visited the piers once again in order to hear Saltskins offer. Virgin Ingrids first mate Wyllard the Crab had ill news. Captain Agmuind had gone missing during the night. He had gone to the Cutlass for drink and gamble, but was not seen coming back. Disappearing was against his habits and Wyllard had already send men to find him, who had came back empty handed. Frustrated by  this set-back, our mercenaries agreed to take a run for Agmuind, and to the Cutlass they went.

Quick information gathering at the tavern revealed that man called Artono knew something about the captain. Artono was sitting at a table with his two associates, familiar swashbuckler Windmill-Hacó and perhaps Luskans most notorious mercenary Quorthon the Grim. The lads were not intimidated by Artonos company and questioned him. He had indeed witnessed Agmuind Saltskins game of chance. Few bad casts and foul words had led the captain to some serious trouble with underworld entities. Crimelord known as the Hellmaker, had enough with Saltskins drunken clamor and send him to the Underkeel, perilous realm under the Luskan sewers.

Schnektol and arms-full of something precious.

Captains fate seemed as a sealed one but our brave sell-swords decided he was worth a try. The Cutlass provided it's services once again as it happened to be the current lodging for Luskans official sewer-rat, old timer known as Ulluf Utan. Mister Utan was a toothless geezer covered in grime and filth, but he was helpful nevertheless. He warned our heroes that the Underkeel was the most hostile and vile section of the old tunnels and caverns that the luskanese addressed as sewers.

No time was spend to irrelevant queries and our search-party rushed towards the entrance that led to the sewer section that was in question. As Ulluf Utan led them farther to the rotten depths, a voice whispered for help. As they scouted for its source, a severely maimed and crippled man was found, lying next to his dead mate that was already a cadaver. When suddenly a pack of rats burst out of the mans belly. It soon began quite obvious that it was not a mere peck of rats, it was a whole swarm of pests that your heroes had to fend off. Dozens of nasty bites later they were able to push deeper to the sewers, except that their guide, mister Utan, had escaped as he saw the swarm. So now our heroes were all by themselves.

The upper sewers soon came to and end, but a small trapdoor led our explorers into lower levels. They had just descended to the Underkeel when a strange little man told them to beat it. Man was called Schnektol Dungstone, he was a svirfneblin, deep gnome, digging and looting for booty. Schnektol knew Hellmaker and the location of his criminal nest. Little fellow promised to guide our lads there, and soon they reached an old door near a pond of sewage. Schnektol explained that it was the entrance to the Forecourt, Hellmakers stronghold. The deep gnome stayed hidden in the background as our heroes closed in with the entrance. The door was locked fast, and Posco began lockpicking it with his nimble hands.

But the pool possessed a menace. A pack of scaly men known as the lizardfolk that had been assigned to guard the entrance assaulted our heroes. Their clubs and javelins hit fast and hard, but Tymora was on our adventurers side that day, as they managed to slay those wretched back-assaulting geckos. But the battle had taken its toll, none of them was in a condition well enough that they could raid the Forecourt and face Hellmaker in order to free captain Agmuind. If he was even alive anymore.

Thus they had to return to the surface for a rest, 

and hope that Agmuind Saltskin would withstand one more day

 in the forgotten bowels of the City of Seven Sails....