Amidst the Cogs of Mechanus II

Malgen waited a moment after Carmella finished her tale. It is a relief sister, that you have been freed from torment. My guilt has been lifted and yet I still feel that I am not at peace. Why have I not ascended to my rightful resting place?

Carmella looked at her brother sadly. We must be parted for a while longer I fear dear brother. Even now, my time here in Mechanus draws to an end. Soon I will ascend to Mount Celestia to be in the halls of our kin. You will continue on your path in the mortal realm for a time yet.

Malgen looked confused. But I have done what was asked of me. Why am I to be denied my reward in the afterlife? Why do I not get to ascend the mount as well?

Aurax stepped forward. His hollow voice, which seemed to come from some place far distant, answered the warrior. You cannot find peace until your mortal remains have found peace. They currently hang in the halls of Mount Bloodmoon as a trophy for those who lord over that dread mountain. Only when your remains are returned to your family's tomb in Vodymsira will you find peace.

Malgen felt helpless. I don't understand. How is it important to the Lords of Law that my bones be interred with my family?

You are a symbol of order and justice to those who now live their lives out in the mortal realm. If your remains are returned, hope will spring in the hearts of the people and they will fight with renewed vigor to maintain the Law of Inolba. Even now, agents of Chaos and Destruction plot their great march on the lands of men. As the Fifth Age of Man draws to a close, the future of Inolba will be tested. The time is coming when people will have to look to the deeds of legends to gain hope for a new tomorrow. Without this hope, the lands of men will surely be lost.

What agents do you speak of? replied Malgen. Surely the heroes I found in the keep will put an end to Mullahey and order will be restored in the Westmarch.

Aurax turned his pale eyes to meet Malgen's gaze. There are other, more powerful forces at work than the diseased halfbreed. Infyrana herself stands ready to enter Inolba.

Malgen gasped. Surely not her. I thought her long dead.

It is not so. She will return; that has been ordained. And many more will die before her reign of terror ends...

The Madness of Bedla-Ra Concluded

SESSION 8 PART III

PCS

Talos Redwand, 4th level Conjurer

Kieren, 5th level Druid

Shaw Ashcroft, 4th level Ranger (Justifier)

Lutien, 4th level Fighter (Myrmidon)

Brendel, 4th level Half-Elven Fighter (Swashbuckler)

A Tale Told by Lady Carmella

Upon stepping through the door, the travelers found themselves on a small precipice, with an endless abyss before them. Dangling high above the floor, supported by thick webbing the width of a grown man's leg was a pale orange egg about twenty feet in diameter. The shades of lunacy informed the group that their power ended here and that they could go no further. The companions began the slow trek across the webs, careful not to lose their grip and fall into unending nothingness. Kieren used his magical cloak to fly alongside the group.

Spider Creature

As soon as they reached the halfway point between the precipice and the egg, sixteen spider-like creatures descended down the webbing from the ceiling and tried to knock the companions off of the web. They scored several telling blows against the group with their many arms, but the travelers continued on in an effort to reach the egg as soon as possible. Kieren tried to swipe at one of them with his sword, but as soon as he let go of the edge of his cloak he began to plummet into the abyss. Eventually, he regained control of his flight and made his way back up to the egg. More spider creatures swarmed towards the group, but they finally reached the egg and with two mighty blows, Lutein was able to crack it open. A yellowish puss issued forth almost causing several members of the group to lose their footing, but in the end they managed to crawl inside the egg.

Insane Aspect of
Carmella

What they found therein was not what they expected. They were in a vast chamber with darkened corners, In the centre of the room was a large, plush bed with carved bedposts. My broken mind reached out to the brutish warrior Lutein and I uncovered a deep guilt there within. Using this guilt, I manifested a creature resembling his lost beloved, yet twisted in my own fashion. She and I sat on the bed in front of the group half naked and seductive. I slid off the bed and made my way to the half-elf seeking to envelope him in an embrace. He recoiled at my touch however. Using my feminine wiles, I managed to charm him and forced him to attack his friends. Ilsa the vampire, my creation slunk off the bed as well and confronted Lutein, blaming him for her death and her existence as a vampire. Lutein stood protectively in front of the slip of a girl and warned his companions that if they attacked her, he would kill them all.

The Ranger Shaw strode forward to attack me, but I used my charmed servant Brendel to block his path and vicious stab him. The wizard tried to stop me from advancing upon the rest of the group by ensnaring me in a magical web, but I passed into the etheral plane and easily side-stepped the spell. I then strode toward the mage and used my wiles on him, forcing him to be my servant as well. Luck was against me however, as the druid Kieren cast a dispelling magic over the two charmed companions and they came to their senses.

Lutein fell to his knees before the manifestation of his guilt, offering his life up to her. His offered sacrifice made me lose control over my creation and she fell to the ground crying before crumbling to dust. I was not beaten however. I managed to pick the wizard up and flew into the air, sucking the very life out of him and gaining strength for myself. But as I felt life and power flow back into me, I was struck from behind by an arrow loosed by the ranger, sapping what power I had left. My shell of insanity cracked and broke and I was finally free. As I ascended from that plane of madness, I bade the travelers hurry, for my demesne began to crumble about them.

The sped through the crumbling chambers of my mind and emerged once again on the desolate plain of Bedla-Ra. My liberation cost them however; as St. Tisha had become aware of their presence. In the distance, thousands of Bone Bats and Gibberlings emerged from her manor and began closing in on the companions. As they made their way back to the cliffs of Othon, the passed the crazed gnome once again. The gnome told them to go to the rear of his cottage and look in the stables. There they found four nightmares to carry them back to the portal. Kieren, without a mount jumped on the back of Paltros the centaur.

The race was on. At first the companions seemed to be easily outdistancing their pursuers, but eventually the maddening horde reached them. Bone Bats slashed at them with their claws, trying to tear them from their mounts and paralyze them. Lutein had seen enough. He slew himself right away so that he could wake up again within the keep. The others continued on for another hundred yards or so. Kieren was torn from Paltros' back by the razored claw of a Bone Bat and though he fought off the paralyzing poison, he tumbled to the ashen ground. Gibberlings swarmed about him and threatened to overwhelm him. At that point, one by one, the companions slew themselves to prevent capture and each awoke within the musty confines of the tower which they had fallen asleep in.

That is how I came to be rescued from that dread realm and how the travelers made it back to the mortal realm, dear brother.

The Madness of Bedla-Ra Continued

SESSION 8 PART II

PCS

Talos Redwand, 4th level Conjurer

Kieren, 5th level Druid

Shaw Ashcroft, 4th level Ranger (Justifier)

Lutien, 4th level Fighter (Myrmidon)

Brendel, 4th level Half-Elven Fighter (Swashbuckler)

A Tale Told by Lady Carmella

At last brother, they had gained access to my mind. There in the first chamber, they confronted my own insecurities about how I was viewed by those closest to me. You were there and so was Zelligar. Four times over you two stood in various conversations about me. Two of you thought I was a useless lay-about and were plotting to kill me. Two more saw me as some brazen strumpet and were making plans to steal my virtue together. Others argued over who loved me more. When the travelers entered, one of the Zelligar's confronted them and asked them their opinion of me. One of the travelers began to reply - even though they were warned not to interact with anyone unless absolutely necessary. Their interference drove the Zelligars and Malgens into a fit of rage and the eight assaulted as one. Not wanting to be bogged down by useless combat, the travelers made quick their escape, up a flight of stairs where they were confronted by two doors. Behind one they heard the painful cries of a solitary woman. Behind the other was a chorus of terrified screams. They chose to enter the door with only one scream.

Thus they entered the birthing chamber, where all my pain at the hands of the orcs who captured me was manifested. I lay in a pool of my own juices, bloated beyond comprehension and swelled with the progeny of my captors. Around me stood four orc attendants. As the moments passed I gave birth to half-orcs, scores at a time. Fully grown they emerged from my swollen womb, mad with thoughts of slaughter. Horrified, the travelers defended themselves, cutting down the orcs as the emerged. Several of the cursed brood surrounded one of the shades of lunacy and savaged it. Worried that they death of the shades would dispel the power which cloaked them, the companions ordered the shades to the rear of the line for protection.

As the bodies of my children began to mount and still more issued forth from me, the companions realized the only way to stop the deluge of half-orc flesh was to slay the source. Lutein the mercenary barreled through a pack of half-orcs and mounted my prostrate form. Using his mighty ax he slew me and put an end to the torrent of bastards. A little shocked and horrified, the companions moved on. The passed through another door, where they were about to face their own greatest fears.

In the grand ballroom, they were confronted by four portraits; one of each of them. As they moved closer, the pain began to run down the pictures, transforming them into those closest to them. Kieren the druid was confronted with his mentor Goran Shae. The wizard Talos was confronted with his own father. Shaw the Ranger was confronted by his commander who had been slain years ago. Brendel the half-elf was confronted by his friend, who had caught the wrong end of a lightning bolt which he himself had avoided. And Lutein was confronted by his childhood friend, the son of the Duke. Each stepped out of their frame and advanced upon the party.

Goran Shae the Treant

A desperate melee ensued wherein the companions were sorely tested and nearly bested. Brendel was the first to slay his demon, the two fencing high above on a chandelier. He managed to land the killing blow, which sent his friend tumbling to the floor sixty feet below, wherein he exploded in a writing mass of black tentacles. Kieren saw his master Goran Shae transform himself into a giant Treant and begin pummelling him with huge fist of solid wood. Thankfully, Kieren was able to summon the power of lightning to him and in the end blasted his mentor into a shower of splintered wood. Talos tried hiding from his father by turning invisible, but the crafty old man dispelled the illusion. Old Valthun Redwand then hammered his son with a fist of stone. Talos dug deep within himself and managed to immolate his father with a clever combination of a spell of grease and burning hands. Shaw was beset by his old commander and two dire wolves. The wolves flanked him and savaged him several times with their vicious fangs, but in the end Shaw managed to break away from them and slay his commander. Lutein was assaulted physically and emotionally, as the Duke's son hurled insults upon him about indiscretions with his late wife. Lutein traded several vicious blows with the cocky noble, but in the end decided to back off and disbelieve the apparition. Without a willing foe, the Duke's son simply melted from existence.

Weary and battered from their ordeal, the companions made their way up the winding staircase toward my innermost mind. Thinking the worst behind them, they opened the door into the inner sanctum, where the most tortured part of my mind dwelt. I was there where they would make their last desperate attempt to free me from my curse...

Continued...

The Madness of Bedla-Ra

SESSION 8 Part i

PCS

Talos Redwand, 4th level Conjurer
Kieren, 5th level Druid
Shaw Ashcroft, 4th level Ranger (Justifier)
Lutien, 4th level Fighter (Myrmidon)

Brendel, 4th level Half-Elven Fighter (Swashbuckler)

A Tale Told by Lady Carmella

All was as you have said, brother. The five, they crossed through the portal and found themselves standing upon the cliffs of Othon overlooking that desperate realm of Bedla-Ra. Awaiting them on that great precipice were the five Shades of Lunacy who were to act as their guides and use their own power to shield the travelers from St. Tisha’s gaze. Paltros the Betrayer there was, that wild centaur from Felgoth Forest who found perfection to be an anathema to beauty and despoiled his own forest; Ferramunga Blackboots was there as well, that dread pirate who had become so paranoid that he slew his own crew; and Dougan the Lord of Rats, a foul necromancer and pupil of Syngal the Black, who had dared read from the Forbidden Tomes of the Necromancer Kings of old; Arthan the Cannibal stood among their number too, that hunter who had donned the skin of a bear and been cursed with lycanthropy; and finally there stood Beornhelm the Bloody, that Blood Knight from Althyria who became obsessed with drinking the blood of his fallen foes; he who had been slain by the hands of the very men he know sought to guide through this realm.

Bedla-Ra, Realm of Mad Souls

From their vantage point atop the cliffs, the travelers saw the gray ashen waste of the realm spread out below them. They spied the Towers of Velinax, where the soul of that mad Emperor dwelt in constant battle with himself. They also saw the writhing forest of tentacles where dwelt the mad druidess Enora, who had dared to gaze beyond the stars at the maddening horrors imprisoned there and was so afflicted herself. Finally, they beheld the manor of St. Tisha, overlooking the churning waters of the Cacaphonic Sea. It was she who they needed to avoid at all cost, for if she became aware of their presence, she would mobilize the whole realm to capture them and add their souls to her number. The shades warned that above all, the travelers should avoid being captured, for that only led to endless torment. If it came to it, they were to slay themselves so that their essences could return to their physical bodies on the material plane.

Before descending the cliff, Paltros drew the travelers’ attention to a manor of white marble that lie a few miles from where they stood. That was my manor, my mind taken physical form. They would have to find a way to enter that sad place to rescue my mind from the madness that infected it. Four of the companions jumped into a magical bag, while the other transformed himself into a bat and carried them down to the base of the cliff and the plain below. Halfway down the descent, the bat was attack by Chytheron the two headed serpent and guardian of Othon who dwelt within the rock face. The beast’s two eyeless heads emerged from the cliff face and in a frenzy tried to devour the poor bat. Its needle-like maws snapped all about the bat, as it flew desperately to escape. Finally, Chytheron’s mouth tore into the creature, but it managed to hang on to the bag and eventually elude the guardian. Once it reached the base of the cliff, it let the others out of the bag and transformed back into the druid Kieren.

The travelers then made their way across the barren plain toward the Copse of Despair which lie in front of my manor. They could not tell how long the journey took, for the sky seemed to constantly change above them from a deep purple to a light violet and then an inky blackness. The moon too changed from a crescent sliver one moment to a fat harvest moon the next, which seemed to grin maddeningly down at them.

Finally the travelers found themselves at the edge of the grey copse of skeletal trees. A small cottage of decayed timber stood nearby, and on a porch in front of it sat a gnome in a rocking chair smoking a pipe. He was muttering about some invention he called the dream machine and how his family had laughed at his ideas until he could take it no more and put them to sleep until his work was done. The travelers asked the gnome the quickest way to my manor. Coming out of his own conversation, the gnome introduced himself as Wolga. He then told the travelers that the quickest way to the manor was around the copse but the only way to get into the manor was through it, for the key to the manor lie within a diseased black oak at the small wood’s centre.

The Tree of Woe

Without a choice, the companions entered the wood. The skeletal trees seemed to take their presence as a threat and their clawed branches reached out to grab at the travelers, always just at the edge of sight. Thankfully, they were not attacked and the companions soon reached the centre of the wood. Just as the gnome had foretold, there at the wood’s centre stood an immense black oak tree, bloated with disease. On the ends of six thick branches dangled the heads of those from my life; your head was there brother, as was Zelligar’s; and mother and father were there as well. So was the head of my maidservant Daphne and that of the despicable orc chieftain who had taken me as a concubine when the keep was taken after the Battle of the Smoldering Skies. In unison all the heads screamed out that they were the key. The branches upon which they hung began to shake furiously and the tree itself tried to swing them at the companions. Dodging the blows from the maddened oak, the Ranger Shaw Ashcroft and the Soldier Lutein made for the tree’s heart while the others took aim at severing the heads from their branches. With two mighty blows the warriors managed to split the tree asunder and it fell to the ground lifeless. The heads continued their insane argument over who was the key. The companions cut the heads free from the branches and packed them all up into their magical bag to take with them.

Having read my diary which you supplied them with, the heroes guessed that one of these heads truly was the key to entering my demesne. When they came out of the Copse of Despair they found themselves at the foot of my manor. A large, iron-bound door prevented entrance. It was carved in the shape of a demon’s head whose maw stood agape waiting for something to be placed within. The travelers guessed that one of the heads needed to be placed in the creature's maw for the door to open. But which head was the key? 

The Druid Kieren believed that my love, Zelligar would be the key. He placed Zelligar’s head into the mouth of the beast. Zelligar laughed insanely at the druid before exploding and sorely wounding the poor druid. The newest companion of the group, the Swashbuckler Brendel, believed Daphne’s head to be the key, for it was she who I shared my deepest secrets with. The cagey half-elf had deduced correctly and once Daphne’s head was placed in the creature’s maw, it was swallowed whole and the door slid open.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the heroes entered the manor and began their journey through the darkest recesses of my tortured mind. What they found within would challenge their wills and assault their very sanity.

Continued…

Amidst the Cogs of Mechanus

A Prologue to Session 8 - The Madness of Bedla-Ra

The Fortress of Disciplined
Enlightenment

The ghost of the man once known as Malgen glided effortlessly through the ordered halls of the Fortress of Disciplined Enlightenment in the heart of that Immortal Plane of Law known as Mechanus. He passed several long-bearded Guvners on his way who were too involved with their mathematical formulae to take much notice of him. At last he came to the door he sought. In front of it stood an obsidian behemoth wearing bronze plate mail that was as wide as it was tall. As Malgen approached, the creature’s eyes began to glow behind its visored helm and it rose up to its full twelve foot height.

                Marut VIII. By the order of Aurax you may enter.

Aurax the Inevitable

  Malgen passed through the cog-like door and entered the room beyond. Like the rest of the fortress, this room was Spartan, but well organized. Charts of various sorts, written in languages beyond Malgen’s ken covered the walls. On a marble table in one corner stood a model of the cosmos. In the centre of the room, a large creature resembling a centaur stood in front of a plush velvet sofa. It was the colour of ivory and had two wings of beaten gold emerging from its back. Its face, as smooth as porcelain, with milky white eyes, was expressionless. Behind the creature someone sat on the sofa, but the great equine’s bulk prevented Malgen from discerning who it was.

                Aurax, Malgen said, I am saddened and grieved to announce that my quest has failed.

The Inevitable named Aurax turned to face Malgen. As he did so, Malgen could hear the click and whizz of thousands of gears turning. Aurax’s face remained expressionless, and when he spoke his voice seemed to echo as the sound of someone in a vast empty chamber.

                It is not so. Those you tasked with completing this quest have proven successful.

Malgen’s face lit up at the Inevitable’s words. Hope was kindled in his heart.

                How can that be? They all died. I saw their souls return to their physical bodies myself.

A voice like honey sounded behind the Inevitable.

                They did die. But it was by their own hands. And done after their charge was complete.

Aurax stepped away with a flourish, revealing a beautiful raven haired young woman sitting on the sofa.

                Carmella?

                Yes brother, it is I. Freed at last from the sickness that infected my soul thanks to your effort and those whom you charged with seeing the task done.

Carmella

Malgen glided forward to get a better look at his sister. She looked just as he remembered her in life: a radiant, but delicate beauty. Guilt washed over him at the thought of all her spirit had endured over the course of the last five centuries.

                I found them in the Keep, he began. They were the first good souls to enter in centuries. Tired and bloodied from their battles, I found them resting in one of the towers. I coaxed five of them from their sleep and bade their consciousnesses rise and take physical form. The sixth, an elf, was awake and suffering from some wasting malady that demanded his full attention; and so I was not able to enlist his aid. I then led them through the portal to that realm of mad souls known as Bedla-Ra where I knew you to be imprisoned. That was the last I saw of them. Tell me what happened once they entered that ever-transient realm of the Nightlady.

                As you wish, brother.

Before she picked up the tale where her brother left off, Carmella paused and her face took on a ponderous expression, as one trying to remember a dream which has faded from memory, or relate a tale experienced by a person unfamiliar to them.

Continued…       

From a History of the Lords of Westmarch - Volume XIV

SESSION 7

PCS

Talos Redwand, 4th level Conjurer
Kieren, 5th level Druid
Shaw Ashcroft, 4th level Ranger (Justifier)
Eswin, 5th level Elven Thief
Lutien, 4th level Fighter (Myrmidon)

Aldereth, 4th level Half-Elven Priest of Brom the Battlelord

NPCS

Boy, the man-at-arms

Part 1

By Lady Myrs Kratys

Six they went to the maw of the mountain,

To rescue the son of the Kratys Lord;

Six they went to bring law to the mountain,

Fell beasts they fought and put to sword.

In the early hours of the day, the travelers arrived at the base of Malgen’s Keep. Luck was on their side, for none roamed the battlements to spy their approach. Foregoing the main gate and the undercroft, they climbed into their magical bag and had the druid Kieren turn himself into a bat and fly them up to the empty battlement on the second level. Entering a door they found there, they came upon a group of diseased gnolls and slew the unprepared beasts easily. Moving further into the keep, they became trapped in a chamber with two iron portcullises. From holes in the ceiling above, they heard the cackling of more gnolls, who proceeded to pour boiling oil down upon the attackers. Grievous wounds were suffered by all, before the burly fighters were able to lift a portcullis and the group could find safety on a flight of stairs leading up. Not soon enough however, as their torch bearer, an unfortunate soul from Kratys Keep they named simply “boy” had his very flesh melt away from his bones before he could reach the safety of the stairs.

Cursing their loss of secrecy, the five remaining adventurers poured into the room at the top of the stairs. Twelve ugly, disease marked gnolls awaited them. In the corner a bound prisoner in plate mail struggled to free himself. The heroes jumped into battle, but were not as quick as the gnolls. Three of the gnolls took off through doorways to the north and east. A ferocious melee took place, with the diseased beasts trying to grab our attackers and dump them into pots of boiling oil. In the end however, the companions prevailed and managed to rescue a half-elf warpriest. The priest, one Aldereth, was one of the surviving members of Brand Kratys’ band and agreed to help the companions in their quest to rescue the lord’s son. They were six in number once again.

After ferreting out some of the gnolls that had taken flight, the companions found a spiral staircase that led to the depths of the castle. There they found a sealed magical portal which they believed led to Brand’s prison chamber. It was confirmed later by a survivor gnoll that Brand was being kept in a place that is not a place. The key, our companions believed, would be in the possession of the new lord of Malgen’s Keep – a half-orc priest of the diseased demon lord Gornadhun by the name of Mullahey.

Mullahey the Half-Orc,
Blood of Malgen and Blessed of Gornadhun

Back up the spiral staircase the companions went. They came to a room with three figures pantomiming at cold stoves, who took no notice of the companions. Eswin, the Tuathan thief strode up behind one and stabbed it in the back. Too late the elfish adventurer realized when the undead zombie exploded in a plume of yellow dust. Eswin’s lungs were coated with a vile poison and he began choking to death. Kieren strode forward and was able to slow the poison with his magic, but the elf’s time to find a cure was limited.

They pushed on into a grand chamber with a large balcony surrounding it. Inside an obese half-orc sat upon a throne laughing at the small band who dared to raid his demesne. Twelve diseased gnolls popped out from beneath the balustrade of the balcony firing a rain of arrows down upon the group. Two bison headed Grueshachs also looked on from the shadows, preparing to unleash their fell magic. Lutien fired his musket at the fat half-orc, but missed. Seeing the odds stacked against them, the companions closed ranks and made a strategic withdrawal from the room. Best not to fight the diseased Mullahey on his own terms.

Trying to throw off any pursuit, the companions made their way higher up into the keep. They passed through a room littered with garbage and were assaulted by two horrendous beasts with tentacles. Having already been injured, the adventurers fought desperately and with strength of will and sword arm managed to overcome these fetid guardians. The ranger Shaw Ashcroft, betrothed of Lord Kratys’ daughter was afflicted with some rotting disease during the battle, and the company was forced to hobble on. They ascended some more stairs and found themselves in a small armory. There, they barricaded themselves in and tried to take care of their wounded.

A Brief Interlude IV: The Fall of Malgen's Keep

As Told by Tarran Kratys, XIV Lord of the Westmarch

In the days of Malgen, First Lord of the Westmarch, the western frontier was a dangerous place - much more so than it is today. Monstrous creatures that roamed the Crimson Steppes continuously poured into Perrinwall threatening the lives of the early settlers. From his seat in Malgen's Keep in the pass through the Greycloak Mountains, Lord Malgen turned back these hordes time and again. The very stones of Malgen's Keep and those who dwelt within became the stuff of legends. Malgen's renown grew to such an extent that the Duke of Perrinwall came to visit him and congratulate him on his many successes.

Brehaus attacks Malgen and his warriors at the Battle
of the Smoulderng Skies

Unfortunately, the Duke's visit was discovered by a warband of savage monsters lead by Brehaus, a Fire Giant of immense power. They attacked the Duke upon his arrival, before he could reach the safety of the walls of Malgen's Keep. Seeing his liege lord in peril, Malgen, his wizard companion Zelligar and their men rode out to meet the horde and protect the duke. The battle, in later years named the Battle of the Smouldering Skies, was ferocious and bloody, and in the end the Duke managed to make good his escape. But Malgen, Zelligar and their men were not so lucky. Acting as a rearguard protecting the Duke's escape, their forces were vastly outnumbered. They fought bravely and secured the Duke's continued reign, though the price of such was their very lives. Malgen himself was the last to fall, brought low by the mighty sword of Brehaus.

Since that time, fell creatures have attended the battlements of Malgen's Keep, overlooking the only pass between the Westmarch and the Crimson Steppes. So entrenched are they in their demesne that the men of the Westmarch have been unable to unseat them for over 500 years. The keep itself is not only of symbolic importance to the lands of Perrinwall, it is of strategic importance as well. I fear that dark days are ahead of us and that if the keep is not retaken, and retaken soon all of Perrinwall could be in dire peril.

A Brief Interlude III: The Blood of Malgen

As Told by Lady Myrs Kratys of Kratys Keep

In the days following the Siege of Kratys' Keep by the Half-Orc Hallir and his Broken Moon Orc tribe, much was done by the peoples of the keep to rebuild. Walls were mended, the injured were cared for, and the dead were buried. Yet the Lord of Kratys' Keep remained ever concerned that the Broken Moon Tribe was not completely destroyed. For in the battle, the fabled gem called The Salamander's Heart was stolen and could not be located. Lord Tarran believed that some orcs had survived and made off with the magical stone. Being too weak from the many wounds he suffered during the battle, the Lord himself was not able to ride out and ferret out any straggling orcs. So he sent his son in his stead, along with a band of light cavalry to scout the lands to the east and north.

The Salamander's Heart

While out on this mission, Brand and his band were ambushed. It was not until some days later that we learned of what had happened. On the morning two days after his disappearance, Brand's severed hand was found at the foot of the front gate. Curled in its rigid fingers was a note. It indicated that if Tarran Kratys wanted to see his son alive again, he would bring The Salamander's Heart to Malgen's Keep in exchange for what remained of Brand. It was signed by one Mullahey, Blood of Malgen and Blessed of Gornadhun. This note brought both further confusion and concern to the already weary Lord Tarran, for if this Mullahey did not have The Salamander's Heart, then who did? And if the gem was stolen, how could he possibly deliver it to this Mullahey?

The people of the keep were too few in number and too inexperienced to mount an assault on Malgen's Keep to rescue the heir to the Westmarch, so the heroes who had proven themselves so valiantly in the keep's siege were sent for once again. Perhaps a well coordinated strike by a small band could succeed where an army would fail. Then again, Malgen's Keep would surely be prepared for any offensive action, and it could very well have been that we were sending these brave souls on a suicide mission. Only time would tell if this desperate attempt to save the Lord's son would be successful.

The Temple of the Three Faces Conclusion

SESSION 6 PART II

PCS

Talos Redwand, 4th level Conjurer
Kieren, 4th level Druid
Shaw Ashcroft, 3rd level Ranger (Justifier)
Eswin, 4th level Elven Thief
Lutien, 4th level Fighter (Myrmidon)

NPCS

Knobby Greenburrow, Halfling Cartographer

FROM THE JOURNAL OF KNOBBY GREENBURROW, CARTOGRAPHER EXTRAORDINARE

Well if this tale doesn't put the grey in a dwarf’s beard, I don’t know what will. I’m sitting here, propped up in a bed in the Brysgod Inn, munching away on some of Fudwick’s delicious crab cakes, recovering from wounds recently received. The fact that I made it back at all is a wonder.

I’ll pick up where I left off. We had just recovered the scrolls from the Library of Ages and decided to make one last stop on our way out of the monastery in the Chamber of Sighs; a place reputed to hold a pool which could show the future. As we entered the Chamber of the Petitioners we saw several dead Dancing Devils lying about. A large onyx skinned giant in eldritch bronze armour barred access to the Chamber of Sighs. He radiated a power I have not felt in my short years of life. As we moved closer, his eyes shot ablaze and he uttered “I am Marut XXXVI. By the order of Mechanus, none shall pass until three are one.” Well, we knew better than to press our luck, so we gave up our notions of getting a peak at the future and headed straight back to the old ladies’ hut.

They healed us of our wounds and graciously let us keep the scroll we had won. The next day, we made our way back through the forest to the clearing where we were supposed to signal the fisherman across the river to come fetch us. Fortunately, we encountered no resistance on our way to the clearing.

The Indomitable Blood Knight

When we arrived at the clearing, we found the fisherman already there. He looked nervous and began to apologize, but before he could complete his apology, a huge man in blood-encrusted plate mail appear out of the ether and lopped his head off with an axe. He congratulated us on our small victory and said one Ragan Doon was impressed with us, but our lives were forfeit and we could not live now that we had gained the knowledge in the scrolls. Apparently they had something to do with a prophecy and the war between Beltigost and Old Althyria and our achieving of the scrolls did not sit well with this Ragan Doon.

At any rate, the large brute advanced slowly upon us. Batty magicked the weeds and plants around the evil warrior which twisted around him and prevented him from moving closer. We were feeling quite confident in downing the brute, when the vines suddenly disappeared. An ugly looking priest in night-black armour appeared also from out of the ether and dispelled Batty’s magicks. Off to our right two more adversaries appeared. A bald, gap-toothed sorcerer and a hulkng Iskal warrior. Trouble indeed, but I felt the odds still favoured us at 6 to 4. Suddenly, arrows started flying at us from the branches of a tree to our rear. An ambush if ever there was one.

The battle was the fiercest, most hazardous situation I have ever had the misfortune of being in. Things happened so fast. Sneaky and I made for the archer in the trees, while Wheezy faced off against the sorcerer, Batty took the Iskal warrior, our new companion Lutien took on the dreaded priest and much to his misfortune, Stabby faced off against the blood encrusted knight.

Magic flew, swords sung and arrows whizzed. We had the worst of it for a while. I was nearly knocked unconscious by a poisoned arrow, but thankfully Sneaky managed to knock the archer out of the tree with one of his own arrows and we soon put and end to him.

Wheezy had a worse time of it. He got blasted by a lightning bolt, nearly charring the skin from his bones. In the end, he managed to conjure up a demon dog from the pits of the underworld with his newly won staff and the beast was finally able to bring the sorcerer low.

The dreaded priest couldn’t for the life of him hit Lutien with his black mace, and soon fell to our heavily armed new companion, who mercilessly battered him to pieces with his axe. It was really no contest.

The ugly Iskal warrior hit Batty several times with mighty blows from his axe and it looked like Batty’s end was drawing nigh, but the crafty druid took to the air with his cloak and from a safe perch on one of the branches in the trees used his magic to heat the barbarian’s armour and fry him in it.

The leader of the group, the blood encrusted knight, would not so easily be brought down. He hammered away at Stabby with his twin axes, bringing the Ranger close to death. Stabby took to heel when the battle was lost, but the brute followed him and sliced him open good. As Stabby’s lifeblood poured out on the ground, the blood knight stood above him ready to make his kill and smear the blood of his enemy upon his breast. With quick thinking from the rest of the companions however, Stabby was eventually saved, though I daresay he’ll not be too quick to jump into a fight any time soon. Wheezy conjured a puddle of grease below the blood knight’s feet and with luck on our side, the huge brute could not keep his footing. The demon dog then ran over to the knight and with its breath was able to set the grease aflame, roasting the knight and finally laying him low.

During the fight, we could all hear the boyish laughter of that treacherous little fairy creature known to us as Puddle. I hazard to guess that the slimy little mischief maker will cross our paths once again at some point and I shudder to think what other trouble he’ll cause us.

With the battle done, our weary band hobbled back across the river in the fisherman’s boat to lick our wounds and rest. I know Stabby and I will require at least a week’s bed rest before doing anything strenuous. We gathered up the weapons of our enemies before we left as well. Most of them were cursed and only usable by those with evil hearts, but Lutien did manage to take possession of the blood knight’s armour and his magical axe.

I have thanked the group for taking me with them, for they have provided me with years of yarns to spin for those who will listen, but I’ve had my fill of adventure for a little while. When they move on, I’ll politely let them know that I have come down with a case of the stomach flu. Perhaps we’ll cross paths and join together again someday; but part of me hopes that day is far into the future.

The Temple of the Three Faces Part III

SESSION 6 PART I

PCs

Talos Redwand, 4th level Conjurer
Kieren, 4th level Druid
Shaw Ashcroft, 3rd level Ranger (Justifier)
Eswin, 4th level Elven Thief
Lutien, 4th level Fighter (Myrmidon)

NPCS

Knobby Greenburrow, Halfling Cartographer

FROM THE JOURNAL OF KNOBBY GREENBURROW, CARTOGRAPHER EXTRAORDINARE

This adventure gets more hazardous and fantastical with each passing moment it seems. I again find myself praying that I see it through to the end with my head on my shoulders.

While holed up in the chamber of cursed magic, resting from our wounds, we were greeted with the arrival of a new companion. One moment we were sitting there resting, the next we were in the company of a brawny soldier with a grim look in his eyes wielding axe and shield and some other contraption slung over his back which he identified as something called a musket. Apparently the magic of the deck of cards we had used earlier had summoned this warrior to us. He didn’t seem too displeased at his beckoning, which leads me to believe that the place he was summoned from was far worse than the new predicament he found himself in.

Once sufficiently recovered from the shock of his arrival, we decided to head further into the dungeons below the monastery. Puddle, our fey companion informed us that there were two rooms down this hallway that the dancing devils avoided, both painted with the same red symbol that adorned the room we were in. He then told us he intended to scout ahead to help us out. With that, he tore open the fabric of reality with a swing of his little sword and jumped through the rift disappearing from sight.

As we cautiously moved southward down the hall, came across one of the painted doors and entered. Inside was a small room lit with candles. In the centre of the room an old man sat in contemplation. His beard tumbled to the ground about him and his skin was like aged parchment. We soon found out that he was a cursed monk still alive centuries after the monastery had fallen. Apparently, he had made vow not to leave this spot until the Three Sisters returned. He told us that the scrolls we desired were within the Library of Ages to the south, and that to gain the scrolls we sought we must pass a test. The only clue he would give us to this test was that “names are the key…for all names hold power of a sort”.

A Dancing Devil of Gwynned

We then left the poor man to his meditations and headed further south. Batty magicked himself into a bat and went ahead to scout the hallways south. While we were waiting for him to return, we were ambushed from behind. Wheezy and myself were in the rear of the group and took the brunt of the assault. I managed to turn around just in time to see a hairy, bear-like monster with bulging eyes and big padded feet dancing soundlessly down the hallway toward us. The two beasts brandished great halberds and sought to lop our heads from our shoulders. I tried to tumble backwards out of the way, but one of them caught me sorely across the chest and I fell to the ground unconscious.

When I came to, we had defeated our ambushers, but I was in bad shape. Following Batty’s lead we headed further south to the “throne chamber” of these dancing devils. We easily avoided a pit trap in front of the doors to the throne chamber and burst our way in. We were greeted by eight nasty devils and a large Bison-headed creature. A furious melee ensued. The Bison headed creature lobbed an ice blue globe at us which exploded in a blast of freezing fire that nearly took out several of our party. The newcomer, whom I took to calling Choppy, set to work eliminating the dancing devils. He took several vicious blows to his person that probably would have killed me three times over, but in the end the devils all lay dead. The Bison headed monstrosity was taken out by the combined efforts of Batty, Wheezy and Stabby.

The Ghostly Librarian

Once again, we had to rest to regain our strength, for we knew not what lie ahead in the Library of Ages. After resting, we headed north to face what lie within. We were greeted by a ghostly apparition of a librarian who demanded to know our purpose. We told him we sought the Scrolls of Prophecy which marked the end of the Fifth Age. He posed us three questions. Two we answered easily, but the third we answered incorrectly and so the knowledge we sought was denied us. The librarian informed us there was another way. Knowledge, he said is not gained without sacrifice, wisdom not gotten with the experience of years. One of us would have to make a sacrifice before he would give us the scrolls we sought.

Surprisingly, Batty stepped forward and agreed to make the sacrifice. The apparition held his hand out over Batty’s forehead, and wouldn’t you know it, but before our very eyes Batty became and old man. We mourned at the loss of his vigour, but in the end we had won the scrolls we sought. We now sit back in the throne chamber contemplating what to do next. Should we investigate the dungeons further or make a speedy retreat back to Brysgod with our prize? As we contemplate this, I can’t help but feel a desire for a warm mug of cider and one of Fudwick’s crazy tales. I don’t mind listening to them, but I’m not sure I enjoy being in one of them.

The Temple of the Three Faces Part II

SESSION 5 PART II

PCs

Talos Redwand, 4th level Conjurer
Kieren, 4th level Druid
Shaw Ashcroft, 3rd level Ranger (Justifier)
Eswin, 4th level Elven Thief

NPCS

Knobby Greenburrow, Halfling Cartographer

FROM THE JOURNAL OF KNOBBY GREENBURROW, CARTOGRAPHER EXTRAORDINARE

Tenthmonth 24th, 606AT

Well, all thoughts of caution seem to have been thrown to the wind. Most folks tell me that I'm a bit too wreckless, but these adventurers I'm travelling with take Grandma's proverbial Apple Bundt Cake. We set off this morning back to the monastery. Thankfully, there were no interruptions along the way and we were ambushed by any of the foul creatures roaming the dense woods on the hill. When we re-entered the monastery grounds, we made our way directly into the monastery itself. After a bit of searching, we found ourselves in what looked to be an old dining hall. The tables and chairs were covered in thick webbing and a giant spider sat perched on this webbing at the far end of the hall, watching us with its beady eyes.

Eswin and Shaw began shooting at it with their bows; it all seemed a bit too easy. Suddenly, another spider dropped from above the doorway we have entered, and landed right on top of Wheezy. It's fangs easily found their way into the soft flesh on the wizard's shoulder, but thankfully our conjurer is a little more hardy than I first believed. The dreaded beast's poison did not find its way into his system and he yet lives. Wheezy and myself made quick work of this "ambusher". Yet another spider crawled up from underneath one of the tables and attacked us from the side, but being wise to their tricks, we made quick work of it as well. After scrounging around and finding a few gems of value, we made our way north, where we found a stairway leading down into the darkness below the monastery.

These under-chambers were less well worked than those above. The walls were rough stone, barely more than tunnels leading into the darkness. I had to bear the torch for the group, as our previous torch-bearer, Thurin (at least that's what I think his name was), met an untimely end earlier in our travels. Mother preserve me, I hope I don't share the same fate as that sad soul.

Making our way west first, we came across a prison chamber that held a lone human by the name of Cullen DeFinch. He agreed to act as our new torch-bearer; we gave him a shortsword to protect himself and we were on our way again. Next we came across a steam-filled room that housed a particularly nasty lizard whose insides were as hot as molten lava. Since the steam in the room was preventing us from firing our bows at the beast, Eswin and Shaw waded and met the brute in hand-to-claw combat. The lizard was terribly tough, but our brave heroes managed to fell it after a couple of minutes. Shaw found out the hard way how hot the beasts innards were, as when he struck the fatal blow, his shortsword melted in his hands.

We decided to head south next, and came across a few chambers depicting the mythology of the Three Sisters. In one vast chamber with painted walls and columns we met a curious little gray creature who called himself Puddle. He claimed to be from beyond the Veil, and said that he had come to Inolba to see what mischief he could get himself in. He claimed to know the layout of the under-chambers and warned us of the hairy devils living in the southeast. He also told us that somewhere in the complex there was a room that could show us the future, and then agreed to show us to another room that held magical equipment.

He first led us to the chamber of magical equipment, for we thought it prudent to load up on this sort of help before moving towards the devil-men who know doubt guard the scrolls of prophecy we are looking for. Most of the magic within the chamber had been looted, but four items remained behind. We should have know better than to greedily grab at the stuff; for any magic left behind by looters was no doubt left behind for a reason. Among the remaining items were a shiny jewel, a small bag, a short sword and deck of cards. Stabby grabbed the shortsword, for he had recently lost his to the lizard. Wheezy grabbed the bag and the jewel.

The Magic Deck

Eswin thought the deck of cards could be beneficial if we each drew from it - I guess we haven't learned from our drinking of the fountain yesterday. It was decided that Batty would draw first, then Stabby, then Sneaky the elf, and finally Wheezy. I decided that I would not draw from the deck. Each member decided that they would draw but twice from the ensorcelled deck. Batty drew first; immediately after drawing his first card, Cullen our newest ally, stabbed him in the back and fled down the hall into the darkness. Bleeding from his wound, Batty drew again. This time he was gifted with a magical scimitar and a treasure map.

Stabby drew next. After pulling his first card, all of his magical gear simply vanished. Undeterred, he drew again. This time he felt the knowledge of his forefathers pulsing through him and felt as though his abilities had increased. He was also granted a magic weapon.

Sneaky drew third. His first draw seemed to result in nothing. But he claimed that a voice in his head informed him that he would be bestowed the aid of warrior to protect him. Upon his second drawing, a billowy cloud of greyish smoke swirled about him and in deep voice pronounced that he would be able to avoid any situation he chose...once.

Finally Wheezy drew. Greedier than the others, he decided to draw thrice. His first draw bestowed upon him a magical staff and a treasure map. His second draw resulted in the same billowy grey smoke forming and the same voice proclaiming that he could avoid and situation he chose once. On his final draw nothing seemed to happen. But Wheezy claimed that he was beginning to forget things that he knew and that his intellect felt less sharp. Covetous of his keen sense of intellect, Wheezy immediately chose to avoid the situation and his second gift was used up - though his intelligence seemed to return to him.

After these tense moments of drawing from the magical deck and tempting our fate, we were exhausted, so we barred the door to rest. Batty is busy healing his bloody back, while I sit here scribbling in this journal. Once again, I find myself hoping that fate sees me through the rest of this ordeal.

The Temple of the Three Faces Part II

SESSION 5 Part i

PCs

Talos Redwand, 4th level Conjurer
Kieren, 4th level Druid
Shaw Ashcroft, 3rd level Ranger (Justifier)
Eswin, 4th level Elven Thief

NPCS

Knobby Greenburrow, Halfling Cartographer

FROM THE JOURNAL OF KNOBBY GREENBURROW, CARTOGRAPHER EXTRAORDINARE

Tenthmonth 23^rd 606AT

Today we experienced a bit of a setback of sorts in our efforts to find the scrolls of prophecy in the Monastery. If anything can be taken from this it is that we must be more cautious as we investigate the ruins; but something tells me this band of adventurers has a long way to go before they learn how to be more cautious.

The day started out well enough. We arose from our slumber at the old ladies’ hut to find an erstwhile member of the band had joined us. Eswin the elf had tracked our progress through the hills and made it safely to the old ladies’ hut.

The ladies gave us directions to the monastery, indicating that taking the path through the hills would be circuitous and long; we fashioned a bit of a work around, however. Before leaving their abode, we were offered a piece of advice and a promise of help from the kindly old women. The help they said would come in the form of information. If we managed to heal their cursed sister, they would tell us how it might be possible to defeat mad King Aldurnus and bring victory to Beltigost in the coming war. The advice was simple: a wise man knows when he is outmatched.

After a bit of breakfast, we said our goodbyes. Talos, Shaw, Eswin and myself hopped into their magical bag while Kieren magicked himself into a bat, picked up the bag and flew us most of the way to the monastery. When Kieren put us down we found ourselves on a pathway not far from the monastery. After a brief battle with some wandering goblins, we crossed through a clearing of withered grass and desolate trees. Another path leading off from the clearing got us up to the monastery.

And oh, what a breathtaking sight it was. The old monastery sat atop a hill, its walls covered in creeping vines and moss. The archway was fashioned crudely into the faces of three women. Behind the monastery, in the distance were the rocky Greycloak Mountains. High above in a bright blue autumn sky circled a pair of Griffons. Inside the walls of the compound, we found a small barracks (which was empty), a warm pool of brackish water, an overgrown garden, a tomb of some sort and the crumbling monastery itself. Hot steam issued forth from a crevasse in the middle of the compound – which I took to be evidence of the fire-breathing dragon which is rumoured to live below the hill.

We decided to tackle the small tomb first. The stone door was carved with a web-like pattern and an inscription that read: The Faithful Warriors of the Thread. Pushing the door open was easy. Inside we found ourselves faced with twelve closed doors and a statue of a proud warrior with an emerald secured to his chest. Seeing before us an easy score, we sent the elf Eswin to pry the emerald off the chest of the statue. No sooner had he put his blade to the gem however, the twelve doors creaked open and we found ourselves surrounded by twelve moldering skeletons in rusted plate mail brandishing swords. Caught unawares, they struck several telling blows against our number, but in the end our superior abilities proved the difference and we made quick work of them. We packed up their longswords along with a magical dagger we found in the tomb and secured them away in one of our magic bags.

After clearing the tomb area, we headed to the monastery itself. We passed through several rooms containing statues of the goddesses and paintings depicting stories from their mythology. We also came across a pair of drunken ogres who we managed to kill. The ogres were keeping several primitive looking men captive, so we rescued these hapless creatures and set them free.

After rooting through most of the monastery, we made our way to a garden out back. It was filled with blackened and sickly trees, several statues of warriors and a crystal clear fountain. Having heard that a fountain in the monastery could grant a wish, every one was eager to test the waters of the fountain. Most of us found its waters to bestow curses upon us making is slightly less sharp-witted or physically weaker. Only Talos felt the waters course through his veins making him slightly stronger. A moment after the last of us had imbibed the fountain’s waters we heard a cackling in the garden. That is where our luck ran out.

Investigating further, we found a hideous looking woman crouched in the far corner of the garden behind one of the trees. She was wearing a tattered and soiled wedding gown, had a pair of grey wings sprouting from her back and her face was covered up so that we could not see her eyes. She was playing in what looked to be powdered stone and speaking gibberish. When we approached she turned to us and rose up to her full height of over seven feet. Correctly guessing that this was the cursed sister, we desperately tried to cure her. Having heard that she could only be healed by the purest waters of Danu, Stabby the ranger threw his waterskin at her and doused her in water. As Batty the druid informed us, this would have no effect. We would have to gather waters from the Unicorn Run, a fabled river in the Greycloaks thought to be the source of all life. Stabby’s actions however, had upset the old crone. In a horrifying display, she unfolded her wings, revealing ten eyes embedded within. Stabby and Batty looked on mesmerized and were instantly turned to stone. Cackling at the whims of fate, the old crone turned around to resume her work with the powdered stone.

Eurayle the Cursed Sister

Terrified of being turned to stone like our companions, the elf, Wheezy and I stuffed our new “statued” companions into our magical sack and left the monastery in all haste, hoping the old ladies at the cottage could help us bring them back to life. Without Batty to fly us back, we had to take the long way around. Along the way we were assaulted twice by some large insects, but managed to put them down easily with our slings and arrows. When we arrived back at the cottage, much to our relief, the old ladies agreed to turn our companions back to flesh. We were however, forced to give them our newly won magical dagger in exchange.

We are now preparing to make our second foray into the monastery tomorrow. Hopefully, we’ll show a little more restraint and realize when we are outmatched. Of course I have no intention of going back to that cursed garden until we travel to this fabled Unicorn Run. Hopefully my luck holds out and I survive this adventure.

A Brief Interlude II: Fate of the Three Maidens

As Told by Father Johann of Oak Hill Cemetary

Long ago, when the Althane first arrived on the green shores of Inolba, life was hard and their very existence was in doubt. To ensure the survival of their chosen people, the gods of the Althane descended from their celestial palaces to walk among mortal men. Many and varied were their adventures and deeds, but this tale concerns only Althar the Protector, All-father of the Althane people, and the Three-faced goddess known as Fate.

It is commonly believed that Althar is a covetous god, always seeking to consolidate power. Many believe that this is why his chosen people are prone to war and conquest. When Althar heard that the Three-faced goddess was also living among the mortals, he visited her so that he might benefit from her vast knowledge of the future.

It came to pass that Althar appeared on the steps of the Three-faced goddess' temple, demanding to know the hour of his own demise, so that he might prevent it. For it is well known that in the end of all things, the gods themselves will die as surely as every mortal must.

In exchange for their mighty knowledge, the three sisters of Fate required a sacrificial gift, as they did from all those who sought their knowledge. Prideful Althar refused to pay the price, thinking that he was above paying the tribute that all others must. And so Althar was denied the knowledge of his own end.

The All-father's wrath was legendary. If he were to be denied the knowledge he sought, then so would all. With his mighty magic, he stripped the daugthers of Troentad of their prophetic knowledge and destroyed their essence.

Thus it was that prophecy in the land of Inolba was lost.

The Daughters of Troentad