Alone by the Well

Arcanus awoke from a deep sleep. Frustrated by his body's need to relieve itself he rolled around for a moment before heading to the outhouse. The early morning air was cool and light had not yet graced the horizon. He called forth light with a word in the ancient tongue and hurriedly tiptoed toward the outhouse. As he finished he could hear a quiet voice talking in a hasty tone. He left the outhouse and sought the voice out. By the well he spied Carrabus gesturing and speaking.

Carrabus spoke quietly,"I have done what you said but the ring hides it's secrets from me! How then should I take my father's place if I cannot use even the lowliest of his treasures."
A lighter voice spoke spoke from the gloom about Carrabus. "It is simple my master. You are not yet of sufficient power to use it. Its power will open to you as you learn. We sent you because others crave its power and..."
A deeper voice interjected loudly. "Do not use their names! Their names are powerful. We may draw their attention."
"I was going to say," said the other voice in an annoyed whisper," they will not move directly against you. So long as you seek your fathers treasures they cannot move directly against you, such is the pact."
A third burbling voice spoke,"Now that we have answered this question you may ask two more."
Carrabus bit his lip, "Where will I find the Stone? It was said he could know his enemy's weaknesses by looking at them while he wore it."
The deep voice answered exhaling loudly, "The Stone is on the Isle you now seek. It sits around the neck of one of the lieutenants who dwells there. He knows what it can do and uses it secretly to move up the ladder of command."
"Also be wary," said the lighter voice "An enemy can be made of the Ancient Guardians that care for the Isle. They respected your Father's place and power they may not do the same for you."
"Your last question please, time grows short." Spoke the burbling voice.
"Will you show me more of the Storm Lord's ways?" Carrabus said with a touch excitement in his voice.
"Yes,my master it is the least we can do", replied the lighter voice. "Think of a bolt of lightning. Imagine its moment, visualize the dance it takes as it crosses from sky to earth. Hear the cracking sound of air burning and energy released. Just as fire comes from a spark so too can lightning. Build the spark in your mind, become it then move as you see the dance of lightning from sky to earth. All who you touch you will feel your wrath!
"Yes! I can feel it!" He said.
In that moment he was lightning with thought. His only thought to burn. I the blink of an eye he had moved from the well through a tree about 30 feet away leaving a burning mark in that line. His hair stood on end and he laughed softly to himself.
"Thank you my friends!" he called out. He turned back to the inn with a powerful bearing. He felt as if he could walk on air. "Air... yes I think flying with be next on the list to learn."

Arcanus watched the spectacle that his companion had done. To his knowledge not many can use magic just as Carrabus did though it is possible. The air smelled burned and salty. Arcanus walked to the well and discovered nothing that would be useful in a ritual. The water of the well held no lingering magics. He had hear every word Carrabus had said and thought, "Perhaps his claims are true. There are many being that can choose not to be seen and heard if they want to. Though the evidence suggests otherwise. If it is madness then I hope to not become a victim of it." Arcanus let the arcane light diminish as the horizon became alight. He turned and walked back to the Inn. Unclear of what to do decided he would deal with it after breakfast.

The Words of Lady Saharel

Hey dudes,

Here are the answers to your questions that Lady Saharel the Oracle provided.

-The Planestones: “Demons wait impatiently in the Abyss for Ammon Jerro, the Dark-eyed Pact-Monger who lurks in the Towers of apathetic Leitbur, to clear a path for them to flood into this world. Already a Nexus forms in the Island to the North and the Hands of Doom begin to strangle that nearly-forsaken land. The stones are the keys to the doorways that even now become the gates upon which the Hordes of the Elements pound their chaotic fists, screaming curses at those who sit terrified on the other side. All the while a dragon with many mouths whispers infernal bargains into the ears of many weak souls, hastening their demise in exchange for favours promised her by those who she knows cannot make good on them. But all hope is not lost and the people of this world move to counter even such terrible threats as these. Seek help in places of strength AND places of secrets.”

-One-Eyed Jack: “The child with one eye plays games in the basement of a great fortress with the bones of a god. Xul Jarak returns to the height of its dark power after falling from once-great heights. Lift up the black patch that covers the child’s eye and you will lift the dark curtain that covers the mystery of Xul Jarak’s new power.”

-Jeff’s Dad: “Devil-Pirates with the aspect of twisted and foul dragonlings plunder the bounty of an astral merchantman belonging to a wealthy Githyanki, slaughtering all aboard. Yet they hold him still at their infernal base, lounging in their fiery lair, neither slaying nor selling him. They wait for a word from above on how to proceed.”

Of Durin and the Speckled Trout

Durin had been walking for days on the dusty road.  It had been less than a week since he had accepted a self-imposed exile from his mountain home.  Leaving in haste Durin had managed to scrape together little else than his maul, holy symbol, chainmail shirt, a back pack full of salted pork and most importantly, a tankard of ale.  He was not fearful of what waited ahead, as he knew in his heart that Moradin had designs on his path.

 

He was however getting a wee bit peckish, as he had polished off the salted pork earlier that morning by a lovely waterfall in the foothills of Baro-Karak.  The trail he followed ran beside a stream coming from that same waterfall.  Durin was thankful for that stream as it sated his thirst, something which his long finished ale was no longer able to do.  Durin reminded himself that next time he travelled to bring more ale!

 

Glancing into the stream, Durin though he saw something jump.  Durin raised an eyebrow and said to himself,

 

“While it’s no salted pork, I will hardly refuse a nice juicy speckled trout!”

 

Durin looked around for something to help him fetch this tasty trout.  Being of noble birth, Durin had never actually attempted to catch a fish, but he said to himself,

 

“How hard could it be?  It’s a little wee fish.  I’ve felled orcs 20 times its size in a single blow with my trusty maul!”

 

Unfortunately for Durin there was little in the way of items that proved useful.  He found some stones, but found his aim with them was not nearly good enough hit such a small target.  There were no trees in the foot hills, just some shrubs, and their branches were shorter than his maul.  Grumbling Durin took off his pack, boots and armour and jumped into the stream with his maul,

 

“For Moradin!!!”

 

Splash! 

 

He waited for the water to settle and with a grin on his face expected to see the lovely white belly of the trout floating.  Instead he saw nothing… then he saw the trout jump again.

 

“I cannot believe my eyes.  This must be some sort of devilish fey fish to have evaded that well aimed blow!  No matter, Moradin guides my hand, die trout!”

 

Durin assaulted the water, in a way that it had never been attacked before.  The banks were flooded by his onslaught.  In the height of his fury he tripped and face planted into the river bank.  As he extracted himself, covered in mud he pleaded,

 

“Moradin, show me a sign of how I am to defeat this evil fish!!”

 

As he whipped his face clean he saw the imprint of his body in the river bank, and in it he saw the shape of his holy symbol, the Anvil of Moradin.  He glanced down at it hanging about his stout neck and raised an eyebrow.

 

 

Journal Entry 6

 

Blessed be Moradin

 

The journey into the world is most enlightening.  Today I discovered two new things.  The first was a new use for Anvil of Moradin, and the second was that I quite enjoy speckled trout, especially when lightly seared!

 

Your faithful servant,

-Durin Foehammer

In a case of Duplicity remember to hold on to your trousers as they say, What goes around comes around.

Faragone lounged by the fireside smoking a pipe. "A good days work" he thought to himself, "all I need now is finish breakfast and be on my way. Those chumps will be none the wiser." After finishing his meal he couldn't resist secretly rubbing their faces one more time. It was after all an art form perfected among his kind. Faragone gathered his things and went after the adventurers that had gone to check out the merchant who had finished setting up shop outside the Monastery. "Curious" he thought, "I didn't receive any warning of travelers from Clewsoro. I guess his men must be sleeping on the job again."

The mid day light washed over Faragone as he left the Monastery. He could hear the Adventures as they looked over items brought by the merchant. "And you say it can penetrate even the thickest armour made by dwarfs. That's preposterous!" He heard Durin say. Valaris piped in "Well Durin perhaps if we use that when talking to you some of the words we speak may make it in the that skull of yours."
"I don't know about that. Durin's head is pretty thick", said Rothgar.
The merchant spoke up before elf blood could be shed, " Why don't you look at this master Foehammer I think it will be more to your liking."
Faragone's blood went cold he recognized the Merchant's voice. "On second thought I shall take my leave of this place." He moved behind a tree and started rummaging through his bag.
"Faragone! How lovely to see you again after all of these years," shouted the Merchant. "Why don't you come out from behind that tree and where we can see you. First though put the bag down and remove your ring, you know the one I speak of." his voice sounding of barely contained composure.
Faragone knew that if he tried anything at that moment he would likely not live to try again. He removed the ring and came out from behind the tree. "Machellose," he said greeting the merchant by name "I thought you didn't like mingling with the rifraf of this world."
Mechellose looked at Faragone with daggers in his eyes. "I only come here when I need supplies you know that better than anyone else. Also times are not as good as good as they could be thanks to you and you friends. Hand me the ring and you may go with your skin intact."
"Something was wrong here", thought Faragone. "How unlike him to make such an offer." Faragone moved toward the Adventures and Machellose with caution "You know I never discovered why you were so upset about never getting this ring in the first place. It not even magical or an artifact. Its curious isn't it. Perhaps is some sort of memento" he smiled slyly. "Now just before I give this to you I need your word that you won't harm me in anyway nor pursue me after I am gone. That also goes for these gentlemen just in case you get some ideas about hiring them Machellose. What do you say?" Faragone then extended his hand forward with the ring in his palm looking into the eyes of the Adventures and then Machellose. The Adventures looked at each other feeling a out place in this confrontation and silently agreed with nods. Machellose relaxed and his head drooped just a bit looking defeated. "I agree Faragone", he said "Clasp my hand and it will be as you say."
Faragone grinned "Then we have a deal", and took Machellose hand. There was an almost prickly feeling in the air and then a pulse of light from their hands. "It is done" said Machellose. Just then Machellose clamped down with all of his strength on Faragone's hand and spoke an ancient phrase. there was a flash of light and Faragone was enveloped in blue nimbus. Faragone shouted "You swore, you swore how dare you attack me!" Machelloes replied as he let go "I did not harm you, I'm just showing your your true form."

The nimbus grew into a blinding flash and where the halfling Faragone had stood now stood a humanoid of 7 feet tall dressed in fine noble garb. Its face was that of a tigers head and its body was covered in short fur with tiger stripes. It had clawed toes and its hands were like wise with one exception. Its hands were Backwards. A new and fearsome voice issued from the Creature that was Faragone. "Machelloes! I will get you for this insult!" The Creature that was Faragone then leaped back with feline grace and moved toward his backpack. He reached within hastily and spilled some of its contents on to the ground. Grabbing a rod in his hand he waved it in the air and a portal appeared shimmering just above the ground. "If you though times were tough now just you wait. I'm Shar'Kah would love to here that your still alive and within his grasp." With that said he stepped through the portal and in a flash the portal was gone.

The Adventures stood in silence for a moment. "Moridan's beard what was that!" said Durin. Kethevan calmly replied "Well that was a portal that likely went to the Astral Sea however there is a chance it went to Sigil." Arcus piped in "And that was a Rakshasa Noble they are very dangerous. Are you sure it was the Astral Sea? It looked to me like the Elemental Chaos." Kethevan snorted "Well to the untrained eye one might think that. The tell tale swooshing sound as the portal appeared accompanied by the dancing of colors as it opened and closed is the clear evidence that the portal goes to the Astral Sea."
"I disagree with your assessment" said Arcus "Clearly the swooshing noise you heard was in fact more of a crackling noise indicative of the energies that emanate from the Elemental Chaos."
"Well my friends" said Machellose "clearly you deserve an apology with regards to being involved in my affairs. Would you take a discount of say 15% in our transactions today as a way to make up for that bit of trouble I have caused you?"
"Friends" said Nadrash "observe the ground from where Faragone left by portal. What do you see?"
On the ground was the casement that the book was in along with a small pouch containing a bit of money and gems.
"Well his loss is our gain I say we have a drink on Faragone tonight" said Rothgar.

Machellose took the ring and put it on his finger there was an unmistakable sense of completeness he now felt. "Your back" he said to himself "and now we can get our work started again. I have missed you my love"

"Machellose how much is this scale?" said Valaris. Machellose came back to his senses and smiled "Oh that suit is quite pricey perhaps a bit out of your price range here how about this Drakescale?"

"Say do you mind if I ask you fine people some questions about the area? I'm looking a place rumored to be around here...."

Skeletons in the closet

You open the double doors and a harrowing site greets you. Skeletons of many men and other creatures litter the floor locked in eternal combat. It looks like a great battle was fought in the room. Against the far wall you can clearly see the leader of the defending forces and his personal guard fighting to their last. Some of the Skeletons appear to be frozen as if time has stopped for them in motion. Others are scattered in piles on the floor and some are bent over as if the weight and length of battle has been upon them for all this time. Clearly lingering magics have aided in keeping this battle in pose for such a long time.
While the air is dry you find hints of mold reaching your nostrils. The faint sound of water can be heard beyond the next door where the leader and his band stand. While nothing useful could have survived for this long your curiosity drives you to explore this forgotten sepulcher.
As you move through the mass of bones the sounds of snapping and crunching fill the air. While not scary it is certainly disconcerting as you make your way looking for anything of value. Your torches light the way as shadows play off of the bodies making seem like they could be moving but your sure they are not. As you come to the other side of the room you can now see the leader in his regalia. Tattered cloth clings to the fragile skeletal frame. Its head bearers a small circlet of copper long tarnished and yet not corroded. The spears of his guard bristle outward making it difficult to approach and the area around them is surprisingly free of debris. You notice, in the skeletal leader's hands, a rod of about 30 inches in length lacquered in red with silver bands that encircle it every 5 inches. At its top is a gem that seems to shine in the darkness, while not generating light itself you can see it clearly. As you get closer the gem begins to pulse as if sensing life. A chilling breeze whips through the room and you can hear the creak of the double doors closing behind you slowly. You steal yourselves for you know now there is little chance of escaping through the door in time. A voice sounds in the darkness, "To the last my brothers.... make them pay with their lives!". The gem on the rod flares to life and you can see the shadows playing off of the skeletons but this time you are sure that they are moving. Skeletons burst up from the plies of bones on the ground while other groups of standing skeletons turn to face you in a formation. You take in the site of a mass of skeletons all around you and it is clear that you have but one course of action. Fight!

Second Floor: Dank Stairs, Ruined Walls and Unholy Monstrosities.... Expired Ghouls Half-off

After a brief rest you descend the stair case. The air seems to chill the bone and vapors of icy breath give you pause. "Is it just me or did things just get ass biting cold?" said Durin. Arctikus replied "Feels alright to me small one. Perhaps you had better grow more hairy mass to protect your posterior." Your torches seem to dim just a bit as you come to an archway and look in to the floor beyond. It is very cold and your sure it is not natural.

On this floor you can see the the southern wall is broken revealing sunlight through the opening. A beam of it cuts accross a 20 foot space of floor lighting the southern half of this floor. On the eastern half of the floor a rectangular wall comes out and encloses part of the area from your sight. You can see that a bit of ice has formed in patched areas on the tiled floor. In a heap on the floor is the form of a humanoid who appears to frozen in place. Weather its alive or dead you cannot tell. Part of the room is obscured in darkness however by the archway there is enough light to see the remains of the ghoul that had escaped to this floor. It appears as though something crushed it up against the wall. Just as you take your first steps on to the second floor you can now see the being that is the cause of such display of power. The armored figure stands almost 8 feet in height with a blue glow that seems to permeate the openings where armor plates overlap. The blue light seems to brighten as the being moves toward you. A hissing echo of a voice escapes the armored helmet "More Seekers? Ah Saharel you only seek to add to your guilt. Now more will die by my hand and you will still not be rid of me." You feel your fear rise like a massive wave inside you its all you can do to just stand there waiting for the wave to crash upon you. Where did this fear come from? How long has it waited for this moment to bear down on you?

Durin's voice sounds in your ears as you feel the fear recede. "Moradin steel us, Moradin steel us, Moradin steel us." Durin chanted repeatedly. Kethevan shouts "It is a Pale Lord, divine power and light weaken it. It is formed of the stuff that makes up the Shadowfell. Beware its touch for it can freeze your very soul!" Hrothgar smirked "Guess that won't be an issue for you eh Arctikus. Alright ladies lets get paid!"

The Pale Lord moves into the sunlight its armor sizzling under its caress. It salutes you with its halberd and hisses from its helmet, "May your blades chip and shatter. May your magics fail you in times of need. Your lady cannot protect you."

New Party, New Foes

Arctikus, Hrothgar, Gell (Sorry if I got that wrong, Jeff) and Durin engaged the orcs of the Black Fist mercenary tribe just as they were about to fell Valaris and Gaav.

During rushed in to save Gaav, who was bleeding out at the start of the battle, while Arctikus threw up a defensive storm of ice and Gell moved to the chokepoint where the orcs were sure to pass.

Three Dire wolves circled the group, threatening to flank.

Numerous orcs fell to the twin axes of Hrothgar, who fleansed the orc chieftain into retreating.

While Hrothgar and Gell slew the line of orcs to the party's front, the Dire Wolves circled around behind the party. They faced a choice: Charge into the rear of the party through the dual clouds of ice daggers that Arctikus had thrown up to kill a pair of orc minions or double-team Gaav, who was - as usual - far away from the rest of the party. The choice was easy - Gaav was tripped up and knocked unconscious once again. Durin sighed and muttered a quick prayer to Moradin for patience.

At this point Hrothgar and Gell were pounding the orc leader, who luckily signaled the two wolves who were about to eat Gaav to cover his retreat. The party suffered no losses and were satisfied with the combat. They were starting to feel like a unit again.

Back at the Monastery of the Precipice the party pondered their next move. Gell and Arctikus bonded over the fact that they were both outsiders in this realm. Durin, meanwhile, had found fresh work for the party in the form of travelling to the ruined tower to the southwest of the Scepter tower on an errand.

The party is now working for a Halfling antique collector who is searching for an ancient tome thought to lie in the haunted tower. There are supposedly magic items of considerable power to be found in this tower, and the party thought it wise to gather some more strength before setting off into the catacombs after the Darano wererat patriarch.

Moving into the tower, the party discovered the slaughtered remnants of the halfling's previous hirelings. Dismembered adventurers lay sprawled in the first two chambers of the tower, striking horror and pity into the hearts of the party. Just as they were preparing to burn the corpses in usual fashion, the group was suddenly ambushed by a posse of 4 ghouls.

Arctikus was hit immediately and immobilized by the gruesome poisonous slime that coated the ghouls' claws. Just as oone of the abominations was about to feast on the vulnerable mage, Hrothgar let out a cry and struck with the two-pronged precision of a thundertusk boar, pushing the ghoul across the room until it thudded into a wall. Arctikus shook off the effects of the poison just in time to see Durin hold up his holy symbol and radiant light pulse outwards, searing the flesh of the ghouls and sending them cowering into the corner - easy targets for a fiery bolt from Gaav. Arc added his own fury to the mix and laid down a shimmering cloud of razor-sharp daggers on top of the ghouls, which Gell skillfully made use of. Whipping his sword around his head, the githyanki flung an arc of lightning at the last remaining ghoul, catching it and pulling it straight into the could of daggers and smiling and it was cut to pieces.

Down the stairs the party went, their blood up from such a decisive victory. But soon did they stop, cold in their tracks, for before them stood what could only be an armoured vampire knight, feasing on the remains of one of the ghouls - its blood-soaked gauntlets caught in the sunlight and burning with an unnatural odor...