Showing posts with label Dungeons and Dragons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dungeons and Dragons. Show all posts

Aug 14, 2014

Narratives of the Cold Waste - Part IV

Climbing step after step of endless stairs upwards, Orgot could not help wondering was this really the reason Talos had sent him on this quest to North. He kept telling himself "Means to an end, means to an end", but still he could not shake the feeling that something was not right on this path. 
These thoughts were quickly ended when the group reached the end of the staircase, and exit from the grueling Underdark. Breath of fresh air was of no comfort, when Orgot soon found himself face to face alone with a huge frost giant on top of a cliff. Summoning every flaming spell Talos would grant him, Orgot hoped that the unforgiving Storm Lord had not heard his blasphemous thoughts of doubt in the tunnels bellow. Apparently not, since Orgot was able to scorch the giant with unforeseen infernous might, and with the help of his friends the frost giant was quickly defeated. But not without a cost. 

Thelon had fallen on the frost giants axe after heroic attempt to aid Orgot in battle. Seeing his friends battered body lying on the cliff, barely breathing, Orgot could not help but to wonder "How much more can this guy take? The elf sure has more courage than constitution..." Joy of his friend being alive was quickly diminished, as Orgot saw flame after flame lighting on the watchtowers around the vale bellow. And as he saw the unbelievably gigantic army of orcs, frost giants and other foul creatures of the North, Orgot truly hoped that Talos would not abandon him on this day...

Aug 1, 2014

Narratives of the Cold Waste - Part III

Staircases of this shape have been
 known to inspire insanity.
The staircase seemed like it would continue forever. Thelon took steps after another as he walked upwards the stairs of the Dwarven cylinder in the depths of the Underdark. Even though the walk was exhausting it somehow felt as a break.

The expedition had just battled against a group of terrible beings with tentacles growing from their faces. Those creatures had struck Thelon down with some kind of spell like powers. That feeling brought back memories from ten years ago. Memories of adrenaline in his veins, sword in his hand and then... magic hitting him, striking him down and finally... darkness.

A step. And another step. The staircase went on and on. Every step was taking them towards their destination, but Thelon couldn't help shake the feeling, that each of those steps was also taking him away from his personal destination. The elf had thought that the two tracks were the same and he would find what he was searching for at the end of the path. But as they moved forward and each obstacle they faced seemed to tell them the same story, that they were the first ones here, he felt unsure.

Finally they reached the end of the staircase and found a hatch surrounded by ice. Thelon could almost feel the the breeze of the winter air. He was eager to get out of the tunnels and leave his dark thoughts behind. He had a feeling that once outside he'd have a nice moment of rest.

Jun 22, 2014

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.


Apr 16, 2014

Narratives from the Cold Waste - Part II


Bolwyn wrapped the furs tighter against the freezing cold of the night and bit on the stem of his pipe. The ice on it's surface stuck to his chapped lips painfully. He couldn't remember when he'd last had a decent pipeful. His pipeweed was frozen and useless. It would be impossible to get it burning in these conditions, but it wouldn't stop him trying. He couldn't even remember when he'd groomed his beard. Not that there was much left after the brief visit to blazing inferno inside the remorhaz. Running his hand through the charred remains Bolwyn wondered: "Maybe I should just cut the rest of it off and start all over again?"


Cursing his blasphemous thought Bolwyn ripped the pipe from his lips a spat mightily. The slightly bloody splatter was frozen solid before it hit the ground. He didn't want to be here. He had never wanted to be here. He should be back home feeling the heat of the forge on his face as he created tools of destruction for their soldiers. He could be of use like Moradin had intended. Instead he was out here chasing idle fantasies, but orders were orders.


"Crumbling stone" Bolwyn muttered to himself , but the dwarven phrase didn't fit the situation. There were no hidden flaws. This expedition hadn't looked promising to begin with, and now it had turned from bad to worse. The message "There is no Thule" was ominous enough, but what frightened him more was the tunnel before them. He didn't know how deep it ran. If it really would take them to the Underdark, they would be in trouble.

 Journeys there were dangerous enough with highly skilled deepwardens. 
With this bunch of surface dwellers it would be fatal.

Mar 30, 2014

Narratives from the Cold Waste - Part I


Thelon Celtharion stood a little bit outside the camp staring at the frozen landscape. The tears flowing on Enoch Crowgale's face from seeing his son die had hardly dried and the news of the words ”There is no Thule” had hit the camp.
Eventhough the two recent deaths of their comrades and the personal wounds Thelon had suffered in the battle against the white wyrm darkened his mind, he felt surprised. Surprised that considering the difficulties they had faced so far, these were the first two deaths to happen. And how many more there would be considering that Thelon didn't believe this was the end. Didn't believe that Thule wouldn't exist. There still had to be something and they would find out what, as soon as Crowgale was ready to continue.
Thinking about the strange writings on the sign in the tunnel, another thought once again conquered his thoughts. The magical symbols and Slaadi at Sarhild. The Grey Wanderer. Thelon didn't have any evidence but still those events brought old memories to his mind. Could it be what he thought? It may have been only wishful thinking but it also seemed too convenient to be just a coincidence.
Despite these events or possibly because of them Thelon felt more confident than ever. These were only obstacles that could be passed. In the grand scale of thing his missions had not changed. Neither of them.

Oct 14, 2013

Chapter Four: The Shadow of the Ironmaster

Session was held at the Cabin of Shadows 16th - 17th of August 
"The summer breeze that still at the continent felt somewhat warm, had now turned into a  much more biting variety. Such was it's bite that a man peering over the edge of the ship shriveled.The wind blowing from the distant shore brought a familiar smell, sweet yet stingy scent of a wild-pepper bush. It was rather surprising that such a plant had spread to such northern latitude. The scent also brought up memories.
It was a sunny summer day of course. He and his little sister Nin were up to go fishing with old bachelor Jaamakki Sammaltakki, although Jaamakki was widely considered as bad influence for the two young ones. And what a splendid day for fishing it was, as the river near the village was abundant of fine catch. As the sun began to descend, the two young ones decided to return to the village, while the old bachelor stayed for little longer. There as the siblings made their way back, a strong scent of wild-pepper bushes that grew near their home, tickled the noses of the two.
As they turned to the small paved road only a lep from their home, they saw mob of people buzzing around their home. Aunt-Berthe ran to the children and weeping and hugging the two who were oblivious for what had happened. None of the five river-perches they had catch was eaten, as the aunt took the two to her place, as there were no one left waiting for the siblings at their home.
The sorrow that followed as the children realized what had happened soon turned into anger, and it was fed by the constant sympathies and condolences that the villager poured on the two orphans. Only two weeks after the grievous incident, they left their aunts house, half-empty backpacks with only some food and stolen silverware of their aunts. And a bag of pepper."

The journey through the northern seas had finally begun. Captain Saltskin  and Enoch Crowgale had calculated that it would take them approximately one and a half week to reach the delta of River Shaengarne at the coast of the Icewind Dale.  The river would then take our fellowship all away up to the port of Targos at lake Maer Dauldon. But neither could the Captain or sage Crowgale foresee if the river was passable all the way up to the lake.

An albatross is always an omen.
Virgin Ingrid was a seaworthy ship mostly due it's skilled crew. When the captain attended other bussinesses, first mate Kolben was in charge. Bosun Hröngvid watched after the benefits of the crew, while old geezer Fisheye was at the lookout. As the crew functioned like a machine, there was little for our expedition members to do than plan for the future moves.
While Posco was gazing the ice-blue sea, Lord Haldurssens personal guard Gorim came to talk to him. It was clear that the only real flaw that this northern warrior really had was his constant urge for nonsense chit-chat. There talking, the pair spotted a bird flying around the mast, and Posco decided to drop it with his crossbow. Bulls-eye! But the triumphant shot took a grim turn as the crew started to curse for their fate, as the bird they shot was indeed a black albatross. It was generally considered as a ill omen, and killing one was a sincere death wish. Captain Saltskin himself was needed to spare the two from a vicious mugging, but the grudge kept living on.

Later that night, Posco was confronted while taking a leak. Brondir, a cautious crew-member had decided to settle the problem with his own knife. Three stabs-to-the-neck later Posco flushed Brondirs corpse down the ships head. Only possible witness for this self-defense turned to murder was Fisheye, but he was fast asleep in his lookout, so Posco decided to keep it all to himself. Brondir was longed the day after, but he was soon considered as drowned by accident.

Days passed by slowly. As they sailed further to the north, the coastline became more and more forlorn. As the climate shifted towards winters grip, Konrad Haldurssen decided to stay below the deck, where he was accompanied by Valkurs priestress Abigail Bousson. The two northerners Onarr and Gorim werein good terms with the crew, meanwhile Thyngall Pedersen stayed mainly by himself. Hornbori  had a long history as a sailor so he took part of daily dues with the crew. Faerhar Bogomoloff  befriended with another sturdy bearded fellow, Bolwyn. Nespil Crowgale hanged out with his old mercenary comradew Artyom, as old man Enoch Crowgale studied his maps and notes. Posco socialized with everyone, as the halflings often do, unlike Thelon whose presence was shunned by most men, except his old mates. But nobody wanted to talk to the half-orc, and the one who wanted the least was the orc himself, Orgots mind had been shattered by the grievous defeat by the Hellmaker and he was still struggling to reason this.

That night a great flock of glowing medusas illuminated the ship that steered trough the dark waters. An eerie sight was destinied to take more lethal turn as an aberration approached from the depths. The beast was known as Uchool by the marines, a slime-condensed crustacean with a paralyzing touch to life. It's corroding slime did terrible burns to few crewmembers, but together the heroes succeeded to fend the aberration off.

This was just the beginning of the all the bad luck that was going to be poured over them. When the ship had been at sea for a week, a fog entwined the vessel. Steering blind, it was only a matter of time that something happened. An small iceberg collided to ships keel, making a breach to the hull. With the aid of our heroes, the hole was mended shut and sailor Frode, who was injured badly, was saved. But there was no end for the mist. Two days already in the freezing curtain had turned the ship into a frosty ghost galleon.

22nd of Flamerule and the mist finally pulled back, only to reveal how bad the situation had actually gone. Virgin Ingrid was stuck between floes. Saltskin pondered the situation and came to a conclusion that the ship could be freed, but it would require a combined effort of everyone aboard. Picks and shovels in their hand, the crew and the expedition descended on to the ice raft and begun chopping the ice. Thyngal Pederesen and a shipmate Geirfast took a leave with captains permission, as a group of seals was spotted nearby. At dusk people realized that the two hunters had not come back and thus our heroes promised to go and take a look for the missing men. They managed to climb on the top of a nearest snowhill only to find  fatally injured Pedersen. Without divine magic, Thyngall would have been dead meat, but now life was restored in his thawed veins. He spoke about a monster that sprung from the ice, ripped Geirfast apart and wounded him with it's terrible claw. Thyngall was obviously struck with fear. But for Geirfasts soul, our band decided to push on. Following Thyngalls blood trail, they soon got to the scene of assault. Nearby, an entrance to a ice-cavern was discovered
Ice Troll

The cavern was vast. In fact, so vast that it hold an age old shipwreck inside. The path was clear to the wreck, as the beast had obviously had no intention of hiding the trail of gore that was left behind from poor Geirfast. Inside the old hull our adventurers finally found what they were searching for, a big troll with a ice-blue hide, enjoying it's human meal. Confronting the powerful creature with an ability to rend a man into pieces, was tricky, but with Bolwyns expertise defense techniques against giants like this, the heroes were able to battle against it with relative ease. It tried to out-maneuver them, but justice was dealt nevertheless. While catching their breath, a opportunity was taken to loot the old shipwreck, and they did indeed find some plunder.

When ascending from the caverns, they realized to be stranded by night and snowfall, that had all the manners of oncoming blizzard. Pushing their luck, the team decided to penetrate the night, even tough captain Saltskin had warned them about the night on a iceraft. Soon they were completely engulfed by the chilling darkness.

Frost Hag - Marzanna
From the snowfall a menace erupted. With a magic hail of ice and snow a creature attacked the party, numbing the men with it's cold magic. After a short moment of confusion, the attacker was identified as some sort of a witch or hag, that manipulated  the elements of winter with it's dread spells. It's mere gaze infused our heroes with terror, and it's horrific claws shred armor padding like a cleaver cuts meat. The Marzanna, as the sailors later identified the hag to be, struck down our mercenary champions one after another. Without the aid of an another search party led by Captain Saltskin himself, the four heroes would have been frozen to death by the winter-hag. As they finally regained their consciousness by the help and aid of Saltskins crew, it seemed that poor Orgot had taken the greatest punishment, once again.

The ship was finally freed from it's icy shackles a day after the battle. the others recovered quite well, even badly mutilated Thyngall Pedersen showed signs of recovery, but Orgot had been struck down once and for all. The half-orc cleric did some serious self-examination somewhere in the cargo-hold, before he finally returned to the deck. He recovered, but the wound would never fully heal.

The ship was finally inbound to it's destination. They sailed north along the Cold Run, steep and icy cliff that separated the Icewind Dale from the Sea of Moving Ice. As the river delta of Shaengarne was seen, crew sighed in relief, as the most perilous phase of their journey was presumable behind. Saltskin himself steered the ship through it, letting the cold breeze from the sea push Virgin Ingrid upriver.
Stranded by ice - Never again!
Cold Run's cliffs rose as high as the ships mast and the relief soon changed back to anxiety. Suspension was increasing exponentially, when like a flash in a night sky, a volley of arrows flew towards the vessel. Many took hits, especially Fisheye at the lookout. Following the sudden volley, fierce barbarian men assaulted the ship, jumping from the cracks and faults of the cliffside. The quiet waiting had turned into high-scale carnage. Men were struck down, impaled by keen arrows, cast overboard. But our heroes were trained to withstand even a attack of two dozen barbarian raiders, so eventually the scale shifted back to the sailors. Also, an unexpected aid arrived as someone smote and rushed the archers from atop the cliff. As the battle ceased, five dwarves , who had slain the archers, descended down to the ships deck.

The small troupe was known as the Ironwatch, elite soldiers, trained in guerrilla manner. The officer in charge, Burthon Steelshirt saluted the ships crew, but within the same sentence he told the captain that the ship was thus commandeered by the right of Ironwatch of the Ironmaster. Captain had his objections but turning against these five battle-machines would have certainly come with such a cost that it just wasn't worth the risk. So did Burthon Steelshirt steer Virgin Ingrid up the stream, all the way to their dwarven citadel, the Ironmaster. Enoch Crowgale knew some of the legends surrounding the colossal burrow, but he had not foreseen how it had spanned across the river, forming something like a steel barrage where no ship would sail without paying a toll.
Citadel Ironmaster
Such was the gargantuan scale of the fortress, that the ship was steered into a giant hangar, where hundreds of dwarven soldiers were waiting. When the ship was attached into a peer, a delegate marched in. Dwarf known as the First Master invited some of the more prominent individuals to attend a meeting deep within the fortress, and as our fellowship had no intentions to resist, they followed the dwarves. A counsil of six Masters greeted the captain and the expedition. They informed that due certain policies, a toll must be paid before the ship can pass the barrage. And as the ship was carrying cargo of zero value, a favors of some other sort must be made. The council asked, or frankly speaking, ordered the heroes to perform a small task to ensure the ships allowance to pass.

First Master explained that the citadel was led by  Grandmaster Thadaragin. But the Grandmaster had grown old, and after he turned 500 years, he became almost a like a mummy. And the council believes that this is due that he is missing one of the four artifacts, forged by his great-great-grandfather, the original Ironmaster. The item in question was a platinum beard-buckle, that was buried in mistake to Grandmasters fathers tomb. And now the council ask politely for the heroes to retrieve it in most delicate manner, as it is forbidden for the dwarves living in the citadel to enter into the tombs of the old Grandmasters. Our mercenaries thought the plan was ridiculous but agreed to perform it nevertheless. Armed only with crowbars and torches, as the dwarves had confiscated and forbidden their usual weapons

The catacombic dungeons were an unhallowed site at least. Bolwyn had tremendous difficulties perform the task in hand, due his own dwarven lineage, and what they were up to, was certainly an heinous act indeed. After hall after hall of dwarven statues and reliquary, they finally saw mithral doors that opened into the the Chamber of the Grandmasters. A murky hall with tomb entrances on it's sides, had a great iron statue depicting the original Ironmaster. But something else was there too. A bunch of vile subterranean dwellers were chopping pieces of metal off of the statue. As our heroes confronted them, the creatures charged against them. Someone later identified the beings as Derro, a mutated dwarven subrace dwelling deep within the Underdark, tormented by madness. The derro had dug themselves into one of the tombs, where they had spotted the iron statue in the main hall, but whatever were their intentions, everyone was struck down, except for a single individual that was carried for the dwarves for questioning. The platinum buckle was also recovered from the old grandmasters tomb, although it was protected with vicious traps.

The Council of Six Masters was glad for the recovery and they were convinced that this would help them the regain touch with the old grandmaster. But the expedition would not see this happen, as they were quickly escorted back to their ship, that was granted a permit to pass the barrage. The visit at the Ironmaster was probably one of the most efficient ever.

Virgin Ingrid was back in line, and Saltskin calculated that they would reach the port of Targos in two days. Such was the merry mood for the rest of the voyage, that they even picked up two peasant fishermen along the way. Mathias and Ingred were their names and they were first to introduce the northern moonshine called Vyrymborouh to our heroes.

As the journey was almost over, Orgots depression peaked. During a stormy night he climbed into the mast in order to contact his deity Talos. He spoke every single chant he knew, trying to call forth his god to answer him. He was certain that the thundergod would strike him down instantly, and thus release him from the misery, but instead the wicked stormlord sent it's harbinger instead. From the clouds a elemental of pure storm nature descended, raining lighting and terror upon the ship. A bolt struck Orgot, thrusting him down to the deck. As the others joined in to the battle, Orgot knew that his god had not abandoned him. Defeating the storm elemental was quite a task, resulting even in some deaths of the crewmembers. Despite the general state of misery, the ship reached it's destination. Dockworkers at the Targosian harbor were amazed how a ship of such size and condition had managed to come up to the lake Maer Dauldon.

As the sailors prized the firm land under their feet maybe more than ever before, many within the expedition had certain doubts about the upcoming journey. 
If the prequel had already been such a chain of disasters, how would they ever survive the full adventure.  
And the journey continues...

Jul 6, 2012

The Hymn - The Myth

North - from the Kingdoms of Men,
North - from the Great Dwarven Halls.
North - from where the Elves have strode,
North - from the Last Giant Thrones.

Beyond - the Gods and their Might,
Beyond - the Great White Glacier.
There lies the Land of Eternal Light,
Now, always and never.