Drusilia Silverwood is an average elf. Well, average height, anyway, with the typical golden blond hair and violet eyes of her race. Gray elves of Greyhawk are usually not found living in common towns, but an incident shortly after her 122nd birthday sent her life in a quite different direction.

During Drusilia’s childhood, she often overheard her elders speaking of the other races that inhabited the Flaness, and how most could not be trusted. But, she desperately wanted to see and meet dwarves (especially dwarves!), gnome, halflings, and even humans. She had met high elves and was intrigued by the ease with which they apparently interacted with these other races. So, when she finally turned 122 (just the right age to set off on her own), she left her home in the forests of Bramblewood to make her own destiny.

She was almost disappointed with the ease with which she slipped past the few petty bandits hiding in Bramblewood Forest, eventually arriving at the southern tree line. Rather than fearing the view of the open sky though, Drusilia was thrilled to feel the full force of the sun shining on her for the first time ever, unshielded by canopy of intertwined boughs of her ancient forest home. So enraptured she was, that she continued to walk south throughout the day and well after dusk, finally coming to the fringes of “civilization” in the March of Bissel, but not yet ready to step into any of the villages she passed.

She walked until the stars and both moons were visible, and though she was aware of the human settlements she passed, she was intrigued by a shuffling sound just off the road, in a fenced off area dotted with small statuary and stones with inscriptions on them. Curious, she stepped over the low fence to see what the purpose of the small yard was. Just as she bent down to inspect what looked to be a newly carved stone marker, two cold hands thrust through the dirt at her feet to grab her ankles, attempting either to pull her into the earth, or to use her as purchase to climb out. Horrified, she left out a terrified cry, and then again as another set of hands lifted her from behind. Happily for Drusilia, the second pair of hands was stronger than the first, and belonged to a human Paladin of Pelor, whose task it seemed, was to make sure the dead buried in this plot stayed put. Her first contact with humanity had a huge impact on her. After spending the rest of the night in Nightwatch’s Temple to Pelor, the clerics there gave her a wooden sun amulet to protect her on her journey and a small prayer book, for she was not yet ready to settle down.

Drusilia eventually arrived in Smallville, and finding that there were a few dwarves, halflings and gnomes, as well as other elves, already living as friends and neighbors in the mostly-human village, elected to find a home there herself. She has spent twelve years there, praying daily to Pelor for the same strength to help the villagers there as she found in the Nightwatch. She often is called to help heal villagers who are injured, as well as the occasional adventurers that pass through on the way back from some wondrous, yet hazardous undertaking. Soon, she plans to attempt some adventuring of her own, perhaps with some of the other non-humans living in her own village.

Character sheet: Drusilia Silverwood [Elven Cleric of Pelor]

Freeday, Planting 7, 592 CY

Where to begin? I think Trap slipped something in my drink over at the Rat’s Egg Tavern last night, as I am sure I wouldn’t normally agree to such a daring quest. After a long week of patching up “adventurers” on their way back through Smallville from Parts Unknown, I needed a bit of cheer and revelry with the townsfolk that frequent the Rat’s Egg. It was a wee bit crowded, but I saw some friendly faces and plunked myself down with Ghelt, the blacksmith’s daughter and Fafnir (of Chicken Powered Butter Churn fame). Perhaps it was something Fafnir put in my drink, now that I think about it. But I digress. There was some talk about the old Everston Estate on the outskirts of town, as is often the case with townsfolk trying to engage the adventurers passing through with the local lore, only this time, a group of these adventurers had been to the place. Upon seeing ghostly lights and hearing the sounds of a woman crying, they decided adventuring was not for them and returned to Smallville’s only tavern to apparently test their mettle at drinking.

Fafnir said something about this being a “perfect opportunity” for an adventure of our own, and Ghelt mentioned she’d be willing to provide some muscle should the need arise. I suddenly, and very badly, wanted to make sure that the ghostly lights were not, in fact, ghosts. Even Trap, who had stopped tending bar at some point and was sitting at our table, was already scheming with Fafnir about how to best tackle the old mansion.

And tackle it we did. By the time we arrived at the estate, it was well past noon, and storm clouds had formed overhead. The large front door stuck a bit, so we ended up removing it by applying way too much force to it. The door, apparently, was in no better shape than the first big room we came to. The inside of the mansion was festooned with webs, rotting furniture, rotting tapestries on the walls, dangerously crumbling balconies around the great room, and rotting floorboards and ceilings throughout. The kitchen was in a similar state, and while nothing looked actually “looted” before we arrived, there wasn’t anything usable left either.

We found some spiraling stairs to the next floor, where there were more spider webs. It appears that our first major decision would be whether or not to walk through the room or avoid it in favor of another. During the ensuing, but brief, verbal debate that followed, two extremely large spiders decided that yes, at least some of the humanoids should enter the room. One bit Fafnir while we were pulling weapons to defend ourselves, but the quick-thinking gnome cast a spell, causing the spiders to fall asleep before either could make another attack. We quickly dispatched the spiders and I healed Fafnir’s wound. We looked around the upstairs of the mansion for a bit before deciding, after having a look at the really rotten roof, that we’d be safer trying to look below the mansion.

We followed some very small footprints until we came to a door leading down below the mansion. We encountered some goblins, equipped with javelins, who attempted to stab Ghelt and Trap. There were four, which were a bit tougher to dispatch than the spiders. One got away, but after a headlong chase down some corridors, we dispatched that one too. We managed to acquire 16 silver pieces for our efforts. We then found ourselves in a room containing the base of a damaged statue (there was not enough debris to identify the statue, though it had humanoid feet), and a table that looked like it was set up for lab experiments. It was obviously long out of use. Trap, living up to his name, managed to find a door leading to a room with a summoning circle on the floor, and two horrible, melted-looking creatures that immediately attacked us. Ghelt was able to do minor damage to one with her axe, but my arrows bounced right off the creature closest to me. I suggested we vacate the area, and was happy to discover that the creatures either wouldn’t or couldn’t leave the room that we found them in.

Fafnir was suggesting that we stop for the day, as he had no spells left after those skirmishes. I had healed everyone myself and would have been happy to rest as well. However, Ghelt and Trap saw some interesting looking doors, five all in a row, and simply could not rest until we had seen their contents. Flinging open the first four doors provided us with some very small cells, one of which contained a three-armed skeleton. While I don’t know what it was, I could tell at least that it was dead, and not undead. Trap, once again living up to his name, yanked the fifth and final door open, and emerging from the final cell doorway in a cloud of gas with a stupefied look on his face, suggesting that he too was ready to call it a day. After the gas cleared, I noticed a trap door carefully set among the stones of the floor. But, we are tired and out of spells, so that will have to await investigation until tomorrow.

Starday, Planting 8, 592 CY

Luckily, our night passed uneventfully. There was some bumping around outside of the room we holed up in— apparently the melted-looking creatures wandering around. After a quick breakfast of trail rations, we opened the trap door we’d rested beside, and with Ghelt leading, climbed down a full 100 feet to catacombs that stretched out as far as we could see. The halls were filled with niches holding remains of the Everstons. Trap was able to make out the nameplate on one: Marcus Everston 348-402 CY. The last date we found was still 161 years old, and we lost count of the sepulchers after about 100. Halls full of burial vaults branched off from the main one and we just wandered through them until we came to a pair of staircases, both leading down. There were footprints going back and forth between the two in the thick dust, and, noticing a horrible stench emanating from the one on our left, we chose to check it out first. As soon as we reached the bottom of the stairs, we were hit full force by the smell of death and decay. Dozens of burial vaults lined the walls, each having been smashed open. Two undead humanoid creatures turned at the far end of this area started shambling towards us. I turned them so that they would not attack our party, and while Ghelt started to hack at one with her axe, Fafnir lit arrows for Trap to shoot at the other. Though Ghelt clearly had the upper hand, she was suddenly attacked by small, zombified rats, so I took greater effort to invoke Pelor’s blessings. The zombies were destroyed. We were fortunate not to encounter any more undead in this area of the crypts. We did come to a door, sealed with Pelor’s fiery sun emblem, and though Trap really wanted to see what lay within, the rest of us were concerned that the seal had been placed there to keep some great evil away. Breaking the seal may have caused unknown damage, so unless we learn more about it, we will leave it be.

We eventually went back to the level above and took the other staircase. This one had a bronze door with the symbol of Nerull, god of death set upon it. Trap was sure the door was trapped. And he was right! He made several attempts to disarm the trap, resulting in a spiked pit trap opening in front of the door each time he opened it. One time he even fell in, but was fortunate enough to land between the spikes. He found the body of a duergar in the pit, and after looting the long dead corpse, found some gold, a sling with bullets, and best of all, a mithral axe (which Ghelt is putting to good use!). Knowing now where the pit was, the rest of us were able to jump across using Ghelt’s rope to prevent more mishaps.

We now found ourselves in a large room containing a sacrificial altar and a statue of Nerull. After I checked for magic, I found a line of runes partway through the room, no doubt some form of protection or alarm. Armed with this knowledge, we stepped across the line, weapons ready, only to have eight armed skeletons appear and attack us from doorways surrounding the altar. I had to turn them twice, as they seemed to find strength from being so close to the hateful statue. Though I couldn’t attack the skeletons and maintain Pelor’s holy force against them at the same time, my comrades were up to the task and dispatched seven quickly, allowing me to finish off the last one.

We quickly searched the area of the altar and the doors, and found that two of the doors lead to hallways. Taking the left hallway first, we encountered five cell doors similar to the ones where we spent the past night. One contained a zombie that badly wounded Ghelt, and another held a four-armed skeleton. Further on, we found a torture chamber, and a bedroom beyond that. The bedroom appeared to have been unused for many years— layers of dust coated everything. As the others were examining the desk and bed, I noticed a door cleverly concealed in one wall. It was hard for me to point it out to Trap, but once I did, he was able to open it. What awaited us was a horrible sight. In a little closet-sized space, we found an altar unlit candles on it. Before it knelt a figure in a tattered black robe. My entire party reacted as one as the grey-skinned ghoul turned to face us—Fafnir zapped it with a spell, I called upon Pelor, and Ghelt hit it with her mithral axe. And Trap, ever resourceful, threw his lantern at it. The dry husk of a creature simply blazed up and was destroyed as quickly as we found it.

This left us with the foul creature’s altar to destroy. We removed the gold candlesticks, and I picked up the little altar to simply smash it. As I did so, we discovered a locked box under it. Trap was able to open the box. We found 100s of coins, gems and a femur bone with necromantic runes etched into it (which we will need to destroy properly). Fafnir then found the key to the already unlocked box on the remains of the ghoul. We have yet to destroy the statue and sacrificial altar in the main room of this complex, but are already in need of rest, so it will have to wait until tomorrow. Ghelt has spoken of taking up the clerical arts herself, and I’m sure we’ll need that for the rest of these catacombs.

Sunday, Planting 9, 592 CY

The rest we so desperately needed was delayed. Ghelt realized that in order to turn undead, she would need a holy symbol to Moradin, but didn’t have one with her. So, she went back to the ghoul’s “bedroom” and hacked apart a bedpost, with the idea that she would make a disk from it to draw Moradin’s hammer and anvil upon. I’m not sure if the noise from that attracted the undead, or if they were just wandering about mindlessly, but we were soon visited by several zombies, some human and some obviously duergar. My three companions jumped into combat, but I knew they were all quite tired, so I attempted to turn the zombies. The undead shambled back the way they had come, and I followed a discreet distance behind, planning to turn them again if they renewed their attack. I found them in a room down a hall with quite a few reinforcements, so I turned them and yelled for Ghelt to come help cut them down. Most of them fled and we fought those that remained. As we finished them off, Fafnir and Trap called for us— I ran back down the hall to find them being harassed by another ghoul similar to the one Trap had burnt to a crisp earlier. This time though, he was without a lantern. Ghelt and I dispatched that ghoul with our blades as well. Discovering that the ghoul had come from a side door in the hallway we’d followed the zombies through, we did a quick search of a room filled with moldering cots and neglected footlockers. As we turned to leave, I spotted a leather-bound book sticking out from under an old mattress. I grabbed it and we headed out to the main chamber again.

Not wanting the undead to come back before we rested, we took Nerull’s obsidian altar and shoved it up against the door. We had to push the altar down several steps, which caused it to break. Ghelt and I felt quite queasy immediately. In fact, neither of us has felt quite right since moving the altar, though our companions feel fine— I fear that we’ve picked up some sort of unholy curse. Destroying the altar was the proper thing to do however, and we will have this curse lifted when we can get to a good temple.

I used the rest of the night while the others rested to read what I could of the faded ink on the leather book’s pages. I’ve been able to make out the contents of several passages, apparently written by an acolyte. The journal mentions growing dissatisfaction with the high priest of Nerull, who was working with a duergar named Durll in an obsessive search for the Heart of Nerull. (I neglected to mention in my last entry, but we found a map in the first ghoul’s room, and I suspect now that creature may have been the high priest spoken of in the diary). Perhaps the map we found is a clue to the whereabouts of the Heart? The journal also mentioned that it was likely Durll was working for someone else too. The diary goes on to mentioned that assaults on this temple by duergar had forced them to collapse the catacombs to lower levels. Apparently, these catacombs go much, much deeper! The last entries I could make out were dated 25 years ago, and mentioned an illness spreading through the temple, possibly a curse, for which magical healing had no effect. The victims became desiccated husks. While I don’t believe that Ghelt or I picked up that curse, it would explain the decided lack of live members in this temple to Nerull.

Moonday, Planting 10, 592 CY

We decided our rest was over when a zombie that had been clawing at the door behind the altar finally smashed its way through to us. Thankfully, we were well rested (though hungry!) and were able to dispatch it without mishap. We followed the hallway from which the zombie had emerged and found some doors leading to small rooms. One room, outside of which Trap set off some sort of poisoned dart mechanism which shot him in the back, we found some sacks of moldy grain. Further down the hall we came to an old dining area and kitchen. I used my divine gifts to create water and purify the grain we’d found. My friends built a fire in the kitchen and we sat down to a meal consisting 100% of oatmeal, but after three days of stretching out our meager trail rations, it was a feast.

We knew the other zombies we’d chased away yesterday were still in the vicinity, and we found them in a small cavern after descending yet another staircase. I was able to destroy four, but I fear the curse Ghelt and I have fallen to is impeding our abilities in melee— I feel so clumsy when I wield my sword! Still, we finished off the last of the undead under the Everston Estate.

After our battle with the few remaining undead, we surveyed the area we’d fought in. There was a lake, probably fed by a tributary of the Realstream, that covered most the cavern. On the shore was a sturdy raft and two poles. I found a rope in the sand and, assuming it was attached to the raft, pulled it. Instead, it was attached to a small box. Trap was able to open it and we found three bloodstones, some gold and two vials within. Fafnir’s keen sense of smell and knowledge of alchemy helped him determine that the vials contained healing potions. Those will come in handy!

We poled the raft across the underground lake, eventually finding another shore to jump out on. Trap, ever cautious, stepped on a pressure plate we arrived on shore and was nearly impaled on a spear. We walked a distance, in what must have once been more branches of an underground stream, until we noticed something slinking along the ceiling above us. A giant centipede! Luckily we fight well as a group and were able to kill it. Two more dead centipedes later, we found ourselves at a fork in the tunnels. We chose the one that went up, and walked a good mile or so before coming out in a forest. Realizing the closest forest to Smallville would be Dim Forest, we decided it wouldn’t hurt to backtrack to the other tunnel. This turned out to be a bad idea. The tunnel went downward, eventually coming out in a room filled with stalactites hanging down from the dark ceiling and sides of the cavern. Luckily, the centipedes we’d encountered earlier had us warily looking upward— and it appeared that the ceiling was moving! Just as we decided we’d best go back to the tunnels again, a huge cone-shaped object fell from the ceiling and buried itself in Trap’s shoulder. The four of us ran as fast as we could out of the cavern as more objects fell from above. Once we were in the relative safety of the tunnels, we helped Trap get the thing out of his shoulder. It was a slug-like creature with a hard conical shell and pseudopods for feet— a Piercer, which spends its whole existence hanging from a cave ceiling listening for prey to drop on. Trap was delighted. He’s named it “Spike” and tucked it under his arm to take home as a pet.

Not wishing to go all the way back through the catacombs under the Estate, we elected to attempt our trip home through the Dim Forest. It was quiet enough, with only the sounds of Trap trying to feed worms to Spike reaching our ears. But then, just a mile or two short of our destination, we heard moaning in the underbrush off of our path. Weapons drawn, we came to a small clearing where a human lay bleeding from a horrible wound in his side. While I rushed over to heal him with Fafnir, Ghelt and Trap quickly checked the surrounding area for signs of ambush.

The human I healed is called Gildean, and is a cleric of Heironeous. He and his own party had been attacked by humanoid spider things. Although I was able to stabilize him, he has been poisoned, which is beyond my or Ghelt’s ability to treat. He was left for dead apparently, but his comrades, which included a half-elf sorceress, human fighter and elven paladin, were carried away— probably to be eaten. Although we wanted to take him back to the safety of the town, Gildean feels that his friends may still be alive and in need of rescue. So, leaving him with one of what we hope is a healing potion, and my silver dagger (for he is too weak to lift anything else right now), we will attempt to bring his party back to him, or at least avenge them.

Moonday, Planting 10, 592 CY, continued

We quickly followed the “drag marks” that were left by Gildean’s attackers as they hauled off his friends. Apparently, the woods were full of spiders and hapless adventurers, because we quickly came upon a gray elf attempting to beat a huge spider with a stick. By the time we got to him, he was under the spider, but thankfully Ghelt was able to hack down the spider and we rolled it off its intended victim. The elf with the big stick goes by the name of Valon and hails from Dreadwood. He is a bard, and believes that his big stick is in fact a magical longsword. Fafnir was able to determine that the stick had magical properties, and Valon demonstrated its keen edge by cleaving the dead spider in half. But, it really looks like he’s just waving a big stick around. Nevertheless, he seems a decent sort and provided us with an additional weapon for taking on the spiders we were searching for.

While Fafnir and I argued with Valon about the nature of his stick/sword, Ghelt and Trap had continued on a bit ahead of us. We heard the sounds of struggle and arrived in a clearing in time to see them grappling with two huge spiders and four of those goblin-spider monstrosities. I still can barely hit anything thanks to this curse from Nerull’s Shrine, but Valon began to sing, which bolstered us all enough to dispatch the evil creatures. It is good that he was with us, as I’m sure that Ghelt and Trap would have been carried off to meet the same fate as the party we searched for. As it was, Trap’s already lost his Piercer “pet”— apparently, he used Spike as a missile weapon during his skirmish. To make matters worse, I was bitten and poisoned, so am now barely able to keep up with my comrades.

Following the drag marks further, we came to a fissure in a rock face that was obviously the lair of the creatures we sought. Ghelt and the others had no trouble climbing down the rope she had along, but I’ve felt so weak and klutzy that I was sure I’d plummet right past the rope. Valon allowed me to hang on to him so I could descend in relative safety. We arrived safely at the bottom and walked down a narrow tunnel for a bit, eventually coming to an area that had four passages leading away from it. The cavernous ceilings above us were festooned with spider webs, and soon three of the hairy vermin were descending on us. We have been using fire to clear out the webs as we find them, but are going more cautiously now— it wouldn’t do to burn the victims we are looking for. Though everyone helps to defeat these creatures, it’s Ghelt’s axe that does the job best— I can see that some of our comrades will be asking her for tips on combat practices in the near future.

No sooner had we rid ourselves of the spiders than we were being attacked from the side corridors by a half-dozen goblin-spiders. Seeing that I was too weak to fight them off, Valon leaped in front of me and took a blow so bad I thought he was dead. But, he continued the bardic melody that he had begun in the last battle, so I ducked back in the corridor and dragged him to relative safety. I was able to heal him enough that he could sit up, and I nocked arrows for him in my shortbow so he could finish off the creatures I had dragged him away from. Ghelt and Trap must have killed the ones in the opposing corridor, for they came out a moment later. Both the corridors we fought in led to dead ends.

Fafnir was ready to see what lie in the final unchecked corridor, so we cautiously approached. A bit of movement caught our collective attention— in an alcove above us, we saw a hideous creature with a spider’s body and humanoid arms— and a glimmer of intelligence in its evil eyes. We attacked in earnest, though I eventually handed my bow and arrows to Valon— I was still too weak (and cursed) to shoot effectively. He, Ghelt and Trap pummeled the creature with arrows as it cast spells at us. Fafnir noticed another small passage and edged towards it, getting a magic missile in the back for his troubles. I followed him in time to see him discover a small chamber with three cocoons in it. The battle finished behind us with our party the victors. Valon used his stick/sword to slice open the cocoons— Gildean’s party was alive, though weak. Closer examination of the chamber lead to an even smaller alcove with the rescued party’s equipment in it, and a small iron box. While Trap hit himself with a poison needled twice while opening the box, I noticed that the belongings of the half-elven sorceress Kendra had two potions in it labeled “Remove Curse.” Thankfully, she weakly gestured that Ghelt and I could have them— what a relief! While Trap shared the contents of the box with Fafnir (contents being some silver and gold coins, a small vial, a scrollcase containing two spell scrolls, an 18” ash stick, an amethyst and a folded up cloak), Ghelt sternly pointed out that we needed to get back and find Gildean himself before he needed rescued again.

Godsday, Planting 11, 592 CY

It took us a while to figure out how to get Gildean’s weakened party out of the crevasse, but with rope and a lot of effort on Ghelt’s part, we hauled them out. Using Valon’s tent as a makeshift sledge, we pulled them along the forest trail, picked up Gildean (who thankfully, hadn’t met with more disaster while we extricated his friends), and returned to Smallville. We took Gildean’s party to the Rat’s Egg Tavern (where the tavern keeper informed Trap that his services were no longer required), and dispatched a human lad, young Hastings, to go ask the local druids to help speed the healing of our rescues. Ghelt’s father was obviously very proud of seeing her handmade symbol of Moradin she wore, but she is now wearing a beautifully crafted holy symbol that once belonged to her mother.

Thinking all was well, I’d no sooner decided to go home to get some rest, when I was approached by Widow McGillis, a kindly old woman who lives on the outskirts of town. She was certain that her attic was haunted by evil spirits and asked me to please come to her home and cast the evil out. I immediately agreed, and asked Ghelt (as I am no longer the only cleric in Smallville!) if she’d like to accompany me. My other comrades, still full of eagerness from our adventures of the past few days, decided to come along as well. In fact, I don’t believe we could have kept Trap away if we’d begged....

Upon arriving at Widow McGillis’ home, we could hear the unmistakable sounds of skittering and banging in the attic. Before I could formulate a plan however, I had to get Trap down off the ladder to her attic door so I could take a look. I pushed open the attic trap door and in the dim light could make out the vague forms of winged multi-legged vermin—stirges! I asked Trap to take the old woman outside while the rest of us cleared out the creatures. A few would drop through the attic door at a time, and we took great pains to not be injured nor damage any of the woman’s meager furnishings. Suddenly though, from near the entrance, an arrow flew through the room, lodging in the back end of Fafnir. Trap had returned to the inside of the 20’ by 20’ home, with the idea that shooting the flying creatures we engaged in melee would be helpful. Fafnir was not amused! I did request several times that Trap wait outside with Widow McGillis, but he wouldn’t be convinced. Ironically, other than the injury inflicted by a party member, the only other injuries were to Trap, who was attacked by several stirges on the same shoulder that had been hit by the piercer earlier. Pelor forgive us, but having the stirges sticking out of Trap did make them easier to kill. Once we had completed the task, I asked Fafnir to go up to the attic and plug whatever hole there was that allowed the vermin in to begin with. We cleaned up the stirge bodies and allowed the old woman back into her home, now “evil” free.

Apparently, one final task had to be accomplished before resting: divvying up the “loot.” Trap saved us the time it would have taken to identify the ash stick we found— the now rainbow-colored halfling is pretty sure it’s a wand of Colorspray. He couldn’t figure out what the grey cloak we found does. It is magical, but only fits elves (and presumably, humans). I took some of my share of the money found and bought a composite shortbow. If we are going on another adventure, I want to be better prepared for combat!

Freeday, Planting 21, 592 CY

We have had 10 fairly restful days. Ghelt spent some time instructing Trap on some of the finer points of combat (but not necessarily getting him to know when to enter combat…), Fafnir’s house had smoke and the sounds of nervous chickens wafting from it (but he apparently produced some handy potions during his stay) and Valon has been wowing the locals with his bardic lore and songs. I’ve handled what few clerical duties were needed of me— mostly helping the locals with bumps and bruises, and answering one somewhat urgent sounding request for an “exorcism” which, once I found out the request led me to Fafnir’s house, I realized wasn’t necessary. We’ve met a few times at the Rat’s Egg Tavern to look over our cryptic map, and have a good idea at least of which direction to head in.

The morning of the 20th arrived and we were ready to depart. As we discussed how much our supplies would weigh, we realized a pack animal of some sort was needed. We acquired a mule (or “The Mule” as Fafnir calls it) and enough food for a several-week journey. Our map looks to be taking us 100 miles, mostly through the Barrier Peaks.

The journey to the foothills near the peaks was uneventful, and as the sun was near to setting we came to a small farmhouse and barn. Thinking to ask to use the barn to pass the night in, we walked to the front door of the farmhouse to get the owner’s permission. The door was ajar, and we could see the furniture in disarray inside, as well as patches of sticky redness on the floors. A quick search of the house and barn turned up no one alive. Not knowing much of the local flora and fauna prompted us to vote on looking for the owner immediately or when the sun rose. We ended up spending the night under a tree about 100 yards from the barn.

The night went quietly, and soon after dawn we had a quick meal of rations and then found a very obvious trail through the trampled plant-life heading in a westerly direction. We had Trap scout ahead of us, all the while keeping a lookout for what made the trail. The footprints were of two sizes: really, really big and slightly smaller than our own. Clearly something (or someone) had been dragged along the trail, and the creatures who left the prints were either too confident or too stupid to cover them.

After a long hike, we eventually came to a cave entrance. Sneaking in, we walked single-file, quietly, until -thud!- Trap tripped over a tripwire, sending something clanging in the distant tunnels. We quickly hauled ourselves back out into the sunlight, and waited. After what seemed like an eternity we were rewarded with the appearance of a goblin archer, which we quickly dispatched. We entered the cave again, more carefully this time, and made it to a large intersection in the tunnels, where we met up with half a dozen goblins and an ogre! Valon attempted to tumble past the ogre so Ghelt and the rest of us could get into the open area to fight, and was knocked down. Lying there, clearly stunned, he started to sing a rousing battle song. I blessed the party as Ghelt waded into combat, and was eventually able to get a shot in at the ogre with my bow. As luck would have it, the ogre had the help of a goblin cleric and began to get up again. So Fafnir finished off the goblin cleric with a nice fiery spell, and then fried the ogre. Things seemed to be getting better, when we noticed that Valon had ceased his song. By now, he was being dragged back through the ranks of goblins. How would I get to him in time? Luckily, Ghelt’s tutoring of Trap paid off well, and he was able to pick off most of the goblins so I could pass and get to Valon before he disappeared down a tunnel. Since I had my new bow out rather than my sword, I had to act fast, so I kicked the goblin dragging him. I kicked him hard. I kicked him in such a fashion that he (for it was now apparently that he was a he) doubled over, squeaked, and passed out. Some quick healing to Valon brought our fighting ability back up to full, and off we chased after Ghelt and Fafnir, while Trap picked off the remaining goblins.

As we came around the corner things got confusing. In addition to a large group of goblins, there was an equal number of Fafnirs, all standing around looking identical. I tried to heal a few more of my comrades while they took out the remaining goblins, and poor Valon shot an arrow through the combat, attempting to hit a goblin. He hit a Fafnir. And of all the Fafnirs in the room, he managed to hit the real one. In the same spot the poor gnome had been hit by Trap just 10 days ago. Luckily, Fafnir doesn’t seem to hold grudges.

After the dust settled and all the goblins were dead, we explored the rest of the (rather stinky) chambers of the cave. One had a pit full of very dead and decayed things (in which I fear the farmer we’d looked for the night before had ended up), a filthy bedchamber, and a small storage room filled with somewhat cleaner “treasure.” As Trap opened the door to this room of treasure, a hail of needles shot out of a trap at him. Not to be dissuaded, he ignored them and looked around in the room. We found an iron box. Trap attempted to open it, but his lock pick broke in the lock. I used a minor spell to mend his pick and he tried again, but the lock was jammed. I attempted to shatter the lock, but with no success. So, he pried the hinges off the back of the box. Success! However, he hadn’t accounted for the poison gas trap on the box, and since the rest of us always run when he “disarms” a trap, he got the full dose of the poison. As usual, the halfling cheerfully shook of the nausea and riffled through the box, finding various gold and gems, and (oops!) a shattered vial.

We are gathering up The Mule and some odds and ends and continuing on our quest. I can’t help but feel someone is watching us... though with all the commotion we cause, that would hardly be surprising.

Moonday, Planting 24, 592 CY

We were being followed! Soon after we came out of the cave entrance we encountered Four Feather, an elven ranger that lives on the outskirts of Smallville. This was fortuitous, as we can use a competent tracker and especially one that knows us (though until now, she’s pretty much kept to herself or the company of Smallville’s druids). She seemed to have a need to know which one of us was the party leader— well, it really depends on the situation! I quickly nominated Ghelt for this particular quest, as it is quite appropriate for a dwarf to be leading the party through the Barrier Peaks. It seemed to puzzle Four Feather that we all get along so well, but I feel that our diversity is an asset most of the time!

And speaking of diversity, Ghelt is teaching me the dwarven language. I have learned however, the most untimely way of distracting a dwarf is for a slender elven cleric to yell “By Pelor’s Beard!” as she charges into combat. As soon as we came to a place to rest the first night out past the goblin cave, we spent much of the predawn fighting off giant spiders. Once, when Trap was looking to pick up a thrown dagger from our latest arachnid encounter, I heard a shriek from the woods— and dove towards the sound, hoping to take out the spider before poor Trap was poisoned for the umpteenth time. My “war cry” got Trap out of my way in time, but apparently startled Ghelt so that I ended up crashing into her instead of the spider (which by the way, didn’t seem to have any “kickable” areas on it). Thankfully she doesn’t take my exuberance personally.

The next day was uneventful, and we eventually found ourselves making camp again. Ghelt and I attempted to take turns washing up in the stream running near the camp, when we saw a little bear cub visiting the edge of the water. Not wanting to attract the bear’s mother, we hastily got back to camp. Moments later, we heard a larger bear growl and soon Four Feather was sprinting for all she was worth in front of the irritated ursus. I didn’t see it, but suspect she was poking it for some reason. We also found giant prints (as in from a giant!) that we elected not to follow.

Early yesterday we had to make a decision when our trail forked— west towards Ghelt’s clan’s home or north, which would likely get us to the Heart of Nerull more quickly. So north it was! The night was mostly uneventful as well, but this time we could hear wolves in the distance.

Today we find ourselves staring at a bestial totem pole, with the symbol of Gruumsh carved in it. The wooded valley below us contains a lake and smoke wafts up cooking fires between huts of what appears to be an orc encampment. I fear our path takes us very close to chaos.

Moonday, Planting 24, 592 CY, continued

There is quite a dearth of elves in the party since my last entry. Our plan to cross the valley of orcs was simple enough— Four Feather and Trap scouted ahead quietly, finding the best path past the orc encampment so as not to arouse their ire. We would have been able to pass through without their notice, but for one alarming revelation— it was not merely an encampment, but a group of about 20 to 30 orcs running an iron mine. Worse still, they were not laboring in the mines, but managing the enslaved humanoids (elves, gnomes, humans, halflings and kobolds) who were. This atrocity could not be allowed to continue. And so, we made plans to kill the slavers and release their prisoners.

There were a lot of problems with our strategy, I’ll admit. First, we waited until nightfall, even though orcs have better night vision than we (or the rescuees) do. In fact, they would have had more difficulty seeing us in direct sunlight, and since they had cleared away nearly all the trees in the vicinity of their camp, we would have had plenty of light. But, the wait proved to be important for the slaves— we had assumed the huts were for the orcs, when in fact their “shift change” showed us that the slaves lived in them— the orcs had taken residence in the cliff face over the mines. This precluded the use of fire spells or lit arrows during our inevitable battle. Our other problem was a watchtower built to command a wide view of the valley, making sneaking into the camp impossible during the daylight hours. Thankfully the orc in the tower wasn’t overly observant, allowing us ample time to study the camp from the tree line. When the time came to fight, Four Feather had an arrow ready to eliminate the watchtower orc (and she did— we later found him with an arrow going through one ear and out the other), while Trap planned to go from hut to hut releasing as many prisoners as he could. Ghelt and the rest of us snuck out of the woods right past the watchtower after I cast a quick blessing on those close enough to benefit.

The battle was bloody, and over very quickly. Ghelt waded right into the fray in that admirable dwarf-like fashion, while the elven assemblage attempted to take down foes with arrows. I was able to even hit the orc leader standing well back from his forces (most of which were trying to hit Ghelt with javelins), though I’m sorry to say my arrow didn’t take him out of battle immediately. Fafnir seemed to be everywhere at once (thanks to his mirror image spell), and turned quite a few orcs into mounds of char with a flaming sphere. Valon went down in battle pretty quickly after a particularly nasty hit (he needs some armor!), but in his inimitable style, sang a rousing battle song while laying crumpled near my feet. Trap had a lot of success as well, even though he was on the other side of the camp— he picked off about a half dozen orcs one at a time as they tried to match his pace between the slave huts. There were some scary moments too— at one point I really needed to get to Ghelt and Four Feather to provide healing, but was afraid to leave Valon where he’d surely be trampled in the fight (not to mention I was shooting as many rampaging orcs as I could from where I stood). In fact, at one point I thought Ghelt was lost to us, but she shrugged it off and kept fighting. Fafnir wended his way over to Four Feather and dumped his only healing potion down her throat, but she was still too weak to stand. She managed one final attack on her own slayer though, with a sword thrust up through his armor from where she lay. I can only wonder if she’d just played dead if that orc would have left her alone, but we’ll never know now.

When we were down to one remaining orc, he routed and turned to flee into the mines. Trap, with some bizarre form of halfling bloodthirstiness, tore off after him and finished him off somewhere in the maze of mines. And apparently Trap was having a lucky day— he found a huge iron chest full of coins and a gem, and claims that he successfully disarmed the trap that was on the lock.

After healing those of party that I could, I found a key ring on one of the dead orc leaders. The keys helped Trap get into his (disarmed!) box of treasure and enabled us to take the shackles and manacles off of the slaves. Only one of the slaves can leave camp with us though. The rest are wearing iron collars that somehow prevent their departure. We were told that the only one that can remove the collars is the “Witchlord” who keeps a stronghold up the path towards were we are headed. The one would-be slave, a halfling going by Korin Greenmeadow, had just been recently captured and not yet fitted with a proper collar— he is more than eager to accompany us on our travels. If we are able to get the key to remove these collars from the slaves we will certainly come back for them. At least for now, they aren’t under the direct influence of their orcish overlords.

The sad task of putting Four Feather to rest weighs heavily on us all. I was touched to see that Ghelt gave her a dwarven blessing to speed her on her way. Valon has offered to carry Four Feather’s body back to Smallville on the chance that her uncle returns for her, though it may just be simpler to bury her where she fell, and carry word back with us when, and if, we return home.

Godsday, Planting 25, 592 CY

Korin has a pry bar. More on that in a bit.

We left the orc camp early in the day and proceeded in the direction the slaves had indicated would take us to the Witch Lord’s Tower. The slaves often hauled the iron ore that they mined to the tower, so the path over the rocky ground was easy enough to follow. As if to let us know we weren’t lost, we saw many more orcish totems evilly grinning at us on our trek. Though I’m not much of a cartographer, I’m now sketching out the places we’ve been in case we find ourselves fighting back through them.

After several hours of walking in a northerly direction, we came to a tower with approximately 50 orc huts and a longhouse around it. While we were forming a plan to get past all the huts quietly, Korin reminded us that he had a pry bar and quickly dashed off. Trap must feel responsible for the other halfling in some way; with an apologetic shrug, he was off right after him. While Fafnir and I moved The Mule to a safe distance and secured him, Ghelt attempted to keep the two halflings in sight as they darted between the orc huts. They checked three and, finding them empty, determined them all to be abandoned. They then went right up to the front door of the tower. Of course, it wouldn’t open. Not with lock picks (as there apparently was no lock on the outside) and not with Korin’s pry bar. As Ghelt kept a watchful eye out, trying to keep all the huts and the halflings in sight, Fafnir and I walked closer so that he could detect for magic while I attempted to detect evil. Neither of us got very far with that, for just as we started, we heard a loud crash— the halflings were using the pry bar as a grappling hook, but not being able to toss it as high up the tower as needed, it had come sailing back down. Trap’s head somewhat muffled the sound of the pry bar as it landed, but either the muffled thunk! or the subsequent squeal from the stunned halfling caused several door flaps to stir. Orcs began to shamble out of some of the huts around us, but there was obviously something very wrong with the orcs. Their lifeless eyes and overly pale flesh indicated that they were undead. At first, there were only a dozen or so and I was able to keep them turned back, but soon more and more lumbered out of their hovels— too many for me and my comrades to fight off. Of course, Trap and Korin were not getting anywhere with their makeshift grappling hook, but luckily Fafnir had a Potion of Spider Climb with him and he was able to take a rope up the side of the tower and secure it, allowing us to climb to relative safety while the zombie orcs clawed ineffectually at the outer walls.

After getting our bearings on top of the tower, we were able to climb inside through a trapdoor and found ourselves in a maze of small rooms. One room was obviously a bed chamber that looked as though it hadn’t been used for years. As Trap ran from door to door on the top floor flinging open what doors would open and inspecting those that didn’t, Korin ran down the first set of steps he found, with Ghelt hot on his heels. I heard sounds of commotion almost immediately, and Fafnir and I ran down behind them while Trap continued his search of the top floor. More undead orcs had apparently been left inside the tower, and with the last of my divine energy for the day, I turned the few that were in the room beyond the stairs so that my comrades could finish them off.

Having two halflings around is twice the excitement, I guess! I only hope we can survive it.

Earthday, Planting 27, 592 CY

While we were fighting the undead downstairs, Trap had actually found something quite valuable— the Journal of the Witch Lord. Reading that provided us with valuable clues about our adversary, who, oddly enough, was also working with the same duergar Durll that the last crazy undead we’d encountered were mixed up with. And apparently, we had arrived just days after the Witch Lord had decided to become a Lich Lord, to help him in his quest for the Heart of Nerull.

As those of us upstairs (Fafnir, Trap, Ghelt and I) discussed this, we heard Korin, still downstairs, screaming “I didn’t touch it!” We all ran back downstairs, in time to see him being clawed at by an elven wight. I had no more divine power for the day, so we had to fight the undead with our weapons. By the time we dispatched the creature, Korin looked to be near death himself— he was so weak, and looked somewhat desiccated. We gave him what healing we could, and opted to wall ourselves into an upstairs room for a full 24 hours in the hopes that we could pull him through this crisis. Apparently, the wight took him by surprise while he was not-so-quietly destroying wooden furniture to make a fire (for warmth). Worse still, this was one of the three elves he had traveled to this region with.

Perhaps the most amazing thing is that Korin survived longer than an elven warrior did. I think it has unhinged his mind though.

After a full day’s rest, we began to somewhat-more-methodically search the rest of the tower, starting with the rest of the top floor. The first room-sized closet was full of old clothes and finery long past wearability. There was another closet across from the clothes closet. Unfortunately, we weren’t all standing far enough back from Trap when he mis-disarmed its trapped lock. A bolt of energy surged out of it, passing through Trap and hitting Ghelt and I before hitting a metal ladder behind us. Painful though this was, a closer inspection of what looked like refuse in the closet yielding a wondrous find: a finely wrought short sword with the symbol of Pelor etched into its blade. Now, I realize logic would dictate that a follower of Pelor carry the blade, but Trap fell in love with it instantly. If Pelor gains another follower, even in this most unorthodox method, then it is worth it to me that Trap wields it. We also managed to find some enchanted arrows and a dagger, all of which were quickly snapped up by the other party members. Going down to the next level we found more miscellaneous “loot” as Fafnir calls it— including some gold and a dagger with a serpentine hilt. It’s not magical, but Fafnir assured Korin it was “special” since he was so taken with it.

At least, we made it to the cellar of the tower. After passing a well (which Korin was very interested in), We opened a door and were bathed in a blue light. Trap walked into the room, an arcane lab, and was confronted with two more undead— one was definitely an elf like the one we’d encountered upstairs, and one looked wrong (even more wrong than undead already do)— he had to keep “straightening” his very loose face, which kept flapping about his skull as he moved. Of course, I didn’t know any of this until Trap pulled out his new sword and engaged them in combat. I quickly followed him in (as did everyone except Korin, who after peeking into the room and recognizing the two in there, went back out to play in the water), and with Pelor’s divine blessing was able to turn the one undead elf into a pile of harmless dust. I wanted to attack the source of the blue light— a crystal suspended in the middle of the room (which Fafnir and I obviously both thought was the phylactery of the Witch Lord). Luckily, Fafnir cast a magic missile at it and it exploded. I was worried at first, because the Witch Lord roared “Freedom!” as soon as the crystal was shattered, but it did him no good. I was able to turn the pathetic creature with Pelor’s wrath, and Trap, Ghelt and Fafnir then slew it outright. In addition to this clearly disturbed, now dead, lich and the pile of former elf wight, we found lots of notes scattered about the lab in the same handwriting as the journal we’d read earlier. We found several rings, a potion of Detect Thoughts, an ash wand and some charred, but still serviceable bracers (one of the few types of armor an arcane magic user can wear). They all radiated magic, but since we had no way to magically identify the items, we are using trial and error. One ring was clearly to help an arcane magic user store additional spells— Fafnir is definitely keeping that one! The wand shoots acid arrows. One ring, forged of iron, seems to offer protection magic— I suggested that Korin wear it as he seems somewhat accident prone. Fafnir decided the one of the other rings had something to do with jumping. We all went to the top of the tower to confirm his suspicions. Thankfully, Ghelt was able to catch Fafnir on his 38’ decent and he came screaming back down from his test jump. We notice while we were up on top of the tower that all the undead orcs were now simply dead orcs.

Returning one last time to the downstairs, where a few rooms where left unexplored, we found a lot of unpleasant things. One room contained a horrible surprise that sent Trap screaming through the cellar— some metal tables and sharp instruments, and what I suspect to be the remains of a skinned elf— probably the third from the party Korin had traveled with (and the source of the loose skin that the lich was wearing). Another room contained an altar with unknown but demonic-looking markings on it— and a silver scepter topped by a star ruby. This is what would free the slaves! Ghelt took care of the remains of Korin’s previous party, Trap went and retrieved The Mule (thankfully still waiting for us, though thirsty) and we hiked back to the mines. The scepter, thankfully, worked by touching it to each of the slaves’ collars.

Since most of these slaves were captured in or around these mountains, I’m hoping there is someone among them that could provide us with a guide or a better set of instructions to where we are headed— I now suspect time is of the essence.

Starday, Flocktime 3, 592 CY

How many kobolds does it take to put a gnome in a barrel? None, it turns out, if you have a determined dwarf working on it. Let me back up a bit though.

We were able to convince a common-speaking kobold named Nizek to allow us to walk with the freed kobold slaves, 20 in number, back to their home cave a ways past the Witch Lord’s tower. They took their last cart of mined ore with them (they had mined it, after all!) and Korin happily perched in the kobold-pulled cart, animatedly talking to them the whole trip. Nizek was the only one that could really communicate with us, but Korin didn’t seem to mind.

I discovered just how much gnomes dislike kobolds on this trip. We had walked a good ways past the tower when the kobolds all started to yip and act scared, excitedly pointing to the sky and talking about Red Death. I was able to determine from Nizek and what few words of kobold I could make out from the others, that this Red Death was a red dragon that terrorized these parts, and had killed many kobolds. As they were giving me a description of how big Red Death was, the sky above us was suddenly filled with the flapping wings of a huge red reptile. As the kobolds, The Mule (and Ghelt and Korin, after The Mule) scattered, I noticed that Fafnir had a odd look of triumph and concentration on his face, and that the “Red Death” above us didn’t make any noise whatsoever. A gnomish illusion, nothing more! It took me a few moments after the image of the dragon winked away to convince the kobolds that it was safe to come out, and luckily The Mule was caught and brought back to us unharmed.

Before nightfall, we arrived at some cave entrances. It became obvious that we had arrived at the kobolds’ home when some poured out of the openings, excitedly yipping that Prince Nizek and the slaves were returned home. We were the honored guests of the kobolds that evening, being offered nice (by kobold standards) caves of our own to rest up in, and clean water and food. In the morning, Nizek came by and told us that his father the King wanted to meet with us. Nizek was the translator for us again, and when the King thanked us for rescuing his son and the others I did my best to sound gracious. I was handed a beautifully engraved silver helm as a gift, which I quickly handed to Ghelt— she and I were the only ones who could wear it, and a quick look at the helm’s engraving showed it was decorated with dwarven soldiers on horses in front of a keep. I don’t know if the helm has any significance other than its obviously exquisite craftsmanship, but it clearly deserves to be worn by a dwarf.

In addition to the helm, we were offered a shortcut to our destination, one that would cut nearly a week off of our travels. After departing from the King, Nizek and a few others led us to a part of their caves where we could hear a thundering rumble. We were taken down to the shore of an underground river lined with empty barrels. One of the kobolds took a lid off a barrel, jumped in, back out, and then pointed that we were to climb in them. As we tried to figure out what to do, Korin and Trap were plunked in barrels, the lids were shut, and they were dropped into the river, whisked away before we could do anything about it. Unthinkingly, we tied The Mule between two barrels, believing we could allow him to keep his head above water for what we assumed was a brief journey.

Fafnir wouldn’t get in a barrel. Ghelt did her best to stuff him in one, and I even attempted to help her at one point. We got him safely tucked in one (we thought) and with a sudden explosion, there he sat among the fragments of his barrel on the shore, one less lightning spell in his inventory. As I was trying to assure him that this was safe or the kobolds wouldn’t ride in them for transport, Nizek mentioned that kobolds don’t ride in them, they just use them to ship things to traders that live at the other end of a waterfall. This was upsetting news, of course, since half of our party had already started out. Fafnir was rightfully worried about The Mule now, too, as it turned out the trip was a full 24-hour ride, all but the last few feet of it underground. However, the walk around the mountains to the same destination would be a full seven days though the territory of “Red Death” which was also unacceptable. I decided then that I’d better cast an Augury to see if the trip was better done in the barrels. Not having cast this spell before, I didn’t have the necessary tokens for the divination, but thankfully Nizek was able to quickly provide me with the tools needed. As I worked on this, apparently, Ghelt was determined to get the rest of us in the river to catch up with our companions, and Fafnir was equally determined to take a different route. After what I’m told was a knockdown drag-out fight that somehow caused the deaths of several kobolds standing too close to a lightning spell, Fafnir was brought back hogtied and placed in a barrel. Prince Nizek told me at that point that the gnome had worn out his welcome and he was going into the river barrel or no, so we opted for barrels for him and the rest of us. I whispered to Fafnir that his weasel familiar would be able to chew through his ropes during the trip down the river. At least my augury had indicated that this was the path we must take.

The river ride was long and deafening, and made it impossible to sleep or pray or anything! At long last I felt a clunk as the barrel briefly bumped off of something, and then a soaring feeling followed by a splash. Not quite knowing what to do, I was grateful to hear Korin’s voice outside the wooden container, assuring me that we could have a long conversation on the way to shore. Korin did all the talking— I was busy letting my ears and other senses adjust to the lack of rushing water.

Realizing none of my companions could see what I was up to, I used what Fafnir would call an “Elf-Fu” kick to open my barrel. I was relieved to see all my humanoid comrades had made it to shore. Sadly The Mule had not survived the trip, and Korin was absolutely exhausted from pulling each one of us to shore. Fafnir was still quite miffed and made his own campfire several feet away from ours.

We set up shifts to sleep/meditate for the night, and were interrupted soon after settling down by the sounds of an angry creature, half owl, half bear, attacking. We all pitched in and dispatched the “owlbear” and after healing everyone up, I settled back down in my bedroll. I could hear Korin checking the insides of the monster for “treasure.” Thankfully, he either gutted the thing quietly, or there were simply no other creatures about, for the rest of the night passed uneventfully. I will attempt to update our map so that we can compare it to our map to the Heart of Nerull and start out again, hopefully much closer to our goal.

Starday, Flocktime 3, 592 CY, continued

Well, today was terrible. Obviously, the halflings’ brains were scrambled in the ride down the river somehow, because they had both been suicidally stupid since then, and in fact, this brain damage resulted in Trap’s untimely demise.

Just after I completed my previous journal entry this morning, Trap and Korin wandered over to the waterfall we didn’t go over last night. They spotted a hill giant and six hobgoblins below the next set of falls, pulling the remains of our barrels (and The Mule) out of their nets. Not that the halflings were telling the rest of us this, mind you! If Korin hadn’t decided he needed to ride down in a barrel to greet them, we may not have found out about them at all. As it was, he came back to camp to clamber back into one of our barrels, while Trap just wandered back and forth between the falls and the camp, itching to cause trouble. Paranoid now, I walked over and saw (and reported to Ghelt and Fafnir) the party below us. I used a spell to comprehend languages so I could figure out if these were the “traders” the kobolds had mentioned to us. (Incidentally, I also read what the kobolds had scrawled on Fafnir’s barrel, now that I could read it: NOT FRAGILE.) I ducked down due to an untimely halfling exclamation and the sounds of pounding somewhere behind me, but Trap didn’t duck, so when the party below heard the noise and saw Trap, they started drawing weapons. By the time I could get back to the camp a few feet away, Korin was sealed in a barrel about to go over the falls (thanks to Trap, who pushed the barrel to the water), and the enemy was climbing a short path up to our camp.

Fafnir must have used nearly every spell in his arsenal to fight off the hill giant. I am pleased to say that we were able to defeat it and all but one of the hobgoblins, who ran off scared when it saw the giant fall to us. Trap, not fully understanding how the Short Sword of Pelor worked, was chagrined to find that it heals non-undead that it’s used to attack. He and Ghelt fought the same hobgoblin for a bit, he healing it with a stab from his sacred sword, and Ghelt dealing it a blow with her Mithril axe. Eventually the axe won out and it too fell. Trap, wanting to test the healing power of his sword, stabbed himself before I could stop him, and Ghelt, thinking the sword was now cursed (and this is truly odd, but I think the halflings have clouded her judgment somewhat), grabbed the sword from Trap and threw it into the lake!

Trap jumped in (fully armored) after it, and I, after removing my armor and tying myself to a rope held by Fafnir, dove in after both him and the sword. There was a lot of current to deal with and I had to cast a light on my own hand to see in the turbulent water. I was just about to call it a loss when I saw something shiny below me. It was the sword! I swam to it and grabbed it just as Fafnir started to pull me up. When I emerged, I was thankful to hear that Ghelt had pulled the waterlogged Trap from the lake before he could go over the falls, and had then gone to get the other halfling out of his leaking barrel before he too nearly drowned.

Once Trap regained consciousness, I told him and Ghelt as much as I could about how the sword was imbued with positive energy— great for fighting undead (which was what the sword was intended for, after all), but not too effective for living enemies. I’m not sure I convinced Ghelt, but if she takes time to detect evil on the sword, she’ll be more comfortable with it. Korin, who often mimics what Ghelt does, will most likely try to dispose of it again though. I tried to distract him by having him look for “loot” on the hill giant. He found some gems and potions, and was happily wandering around our camp with boar tusks in his mouth moments later.

Trap and Korin headed down to see what was in the barrels below the second falls while Ghelt, Fafnir and I finished cleaning up our camp to head out. We then went down and found them wearing each other’s armor, “wigs” they pulled out of some barrels and were chewing on some sort of meat they found. The wigs were quite definitely scalps, so I shudder to guess what they were eating. I didn’t get to mention this though, as we were soon attacked by another hill giant with hobgoblins in tow. Ghelt had us climb as quickly as we could across the rope net while she cut it free from the enemies’ side of the river. Fafnir tried to slow them down by casting an illusion of a bank of clouds between them and us, but they didn’t stay fooled long. We got across the river (which turned out to only be 4’ deep— no problem for a giant!) and were heading to the tree line (and escape), when Trap and Korin decided they wanted to switch back to their normal armor. Not having time, obviously, I grabbed them both by the necks of their attire and headed as quickly as I could up towards the trees. Suddenly, my load was much lighter as they both squirmed free of their gear. I think Ghelt got them motivated to move somehow and we were soon tearing through the trees, all... three.. of us. Where were the halflings?

We turned back just in time to see Korin and Trap duck out from behind a tree. Korin was swatted down by the hill giant, while poor Trap was completely squished by it.

Now, I consider myself a practical elf, but I realized that this was going to be a choice between saving myself or saving Korin, so I started back, knowing that running onward with Ghelt and Fafnir (also paused but ready for a decision either way) would be smarter. Suddenly, Pelor be praised, a huge rock came hurdling out of the trees to the west of us, smacking the hill giant. And then another, and another. The hill giant, looking peeved and maybe a bit frightened, departed quickly. I was able to get to the nearly-dead Korin in just the nick of time, healing him. There was nothing I could do for Trap, save collect his undamaged gear while Ghelt, even more practical then I, attended to the body.

Our saviors turned out to be a pair of stone giants, who said simply, “It’s not safe in these parts.” Ghelt seemed genuinely relieved to see this particular type of giants after our run-in with those of the “hill” variety, and they offered to take us back to their mountain home for healing and recuperating. They are even giving Trap a proper burial— I’m sure he would be amazed to know he was interred in these halls with people five times his stature. Korin must need more healing too— he seems to think he’s Trap now— perhaps he is still wearing some of his gear.

Earthday, Flocktime 6, 592 CY

In addition to being excellent hosts, the stone giants were able to point us closer to our destination, Arun-tosa (City of the Dead) as well as provide us with some dwarven history. It seems the dwarven clans of Barraktor destroyed the City and its necromancer king, though the evil they fought (or perhaps released) was so great it caused them abandon their own mines and thus broke the dwarven clan into smaller groups. The giants (which included a very personable one named Gunnae who did much of the talking with us) warned us that we were not the first to go back to Arun-tosa, and that those that ventured there were not seen again.

They also traded some much-needed arcane scrolls for some of the gems we found, and Korin traded them his well-crafted mail for a big silver ring— meant to be worn on the finger of a giant, it encircles Korin’s head. He is wearing all of Trap’s stuff and carrying his equipment (having dropped some of his own, apparently) and insists that Trap is talking to him. We’ve cast every spell we can think of to detect Trap’s spirit, and can only assume that Korin is utterly barmy.

Before setting off again on our quest, I was so grateful for the giants’ hospitality I offered to heal anyone that needed it. Gunnae assured me that their own healer served their needs well, but there was another visitor that perhaps I could help. He lead me (with Korin bouncing along between us) to a chamber with a huge stone bed. Using up a small portion of the bed was the most mangled-looking human I’d ever seen (well, that was still breathing, anyway!). Korin immediately wanted to wrap the man up like a mummy, so I asked Gunnae to please scruff the halfling while I attempted a miracle.

It took several of my strongest healing spells to get him to the point where he could sit up, and then stand up, but I must confess the healings didn’t make him look any prettier. Some of what I thought was damage was just how poor Jonathan looks. He asked to travel with us, feeling he’d imposed on the stone giants long enough, and we can use an extra fighter, seeing as Korin now considers himself our party’s rogue. Though not as charismatic as the human paladins and clerics of Pelor that I am used to seeing, he is a follower of Mayaheine, who honors Pelor, so I feel that at least I have a connection with Jonathan. And oddly, even though I brought him back from the brink of death, he seems to feel that I need his protection. We’ll see....

Korin is our “scout” now. After several attempts to keep him safely on a tether, Ghelt had to unhook him. We’d found a cave opening after walking for half the day, and he offered to investigate it for us. Seeing as it was 60 feet off the ground and halflings are decent climbers, this seemed like a fine idea. Korin scaled the vertical rock like it was a ladder, and quickly disappeared into the dark cave entrance. He was to drop a rope to us as soon as he was inside, but didn’t, and moments later a strange music was echoing down to us. Whether it was something that only effected males, or just bad luck for them, Fafnir and Jonathan immediately began to climb the rock face too— Fafnir with a spell that allowed him to walk right up the side, and Jonathan, climbing and scrabbling. Ghelt and I, by far the worst climbers of the lot, got worried when Fafnir didn’t drop down a rope either. Luckily, Jonathan didn’t do so well on his climb, and dropped back down to us. The fall knocked the wind out of him, and apparently the enchantment from the music. Now Ghelt and I were very worried. Jonathan climbed up again, this time remaining clear-headed enough to drop a rope down to us. It still required us to climb to the bottom of the length of rope and took another minute or so for us to get to the top.

I cast Light when we were up, and we followed the sound of the haunting music. Turning a corner we found ourselves in a large lair with two hideous female creatures—they had wings and bird legs and were peeling the flesh off of our comrades as they crooned their hideous song. A Searing Light interrupted the one snacking on Fafnir, causing it to grab a femur from a pile of bones and come after me. Jonathan was soon dazed again, but Ghelt was able to dispatch the other while I finished off the one I was facing with my sword. Thankfully, the enchantment wore off of our male counterparts with the deaths of the harpies. We patched them up and were planning on going back out to the main entrance to camp when I spotted a glint of metal under a pile of loose stone. Scooping away the debris I found a bag of gold and a few gems, and a very dirty longsword. Brushing the grime away, I discovered something wonderful—a finely crafted, razor-sharp sword of elven design. It is magical too, though I’ve yet to unlock all of its secrets. I have never possessed or even used a magical weapon before, and at the time, I didn’t realize I had pulled out my old longsword and replaced it with this beautiful weapon without even thinking to ask any of my comrades if they wanted it. Luckily, I’m the only one among them that fights with a longsword anyway. If we manage to meet up with Valon again, perhaps he will know more about it. Korin is now toting around my old one even though it’s a long as he is tall.

After an otherwise restful and uneventful night, we managed to get back down on the ground and continue our trek. The mountainous terrain is getting harder to walk on and it is taking us longer than I originally had hoped. After a quiet day we were just about to make camp when we heard howling of wolves in the distance, followed by wolves howling from the opposite direction. Hoping they were merely animals, I used a spell to speak with them and asked them to pass by us. Unfortunately, they weren’t regular wolves, for they began to circle us, occasionally howling to each other as they went. When the first one came into view, it spoke to us in a growly voice— in Common! It was just about then that we realized we were fighting under the light of a full moon.

Each of us now had either magic, a magical weapon, or a silver weapon at our disposal, though none of us knew if these were werewolves or some other manner of intelligent lupine. While Fafnir, Ghelt, Jonathan and I fought bravely as they continued to leap out of the dark at us, Korin went sailing by us on the back of one, using his silver ring as a harness over its snout....

Eventually, we either wounded or killed them all, or scared them off. My new sword sliced through the evil creatures easily— it’s truly a remarkable weapon. We’ve all been bitten though, so I pray to Pelor that they weren’t lycanthropes. Thankfully the rest of the night passed quietly, allowing us to get an early start on our quest.

Starday, Flocktime 8, 592 CY

Even though we still don’t know if we were attacked by werewolves, I’ve cast Remove Disease on everyone. I’m not even sure that a cleric of my status would be able to rid us of such a disease, but there is no one else to do it. Other than Korin continuously “woofing” and chewing at Ghelt’s limbs, no one seems the worse for it.

We continued on throughout the day after the wolf attacks without incident, eventually coming to a trail and heading northward on it. As night fell, we came to a stone bridge and were considering it as a camp site when we heard the sounds of combat around the next bend in the path. Two tattered and diseased looking individuals (calling themselves dwarves) waylayed us, begging us to save their dwarven companions from a terrible ettin up ahead, and not letting us get closer to them due to “leprosy.” They did look diseased, and it sounded as though time was of the essence, so Jonathan, Ghelt, Fafnir and I went ahead to find the ettin while Korin stayed behind to entertain the two lepers.

There was a cave entrance right where the leprous individuals had indicated the ettin to be, so we went inside after I cast a light for Jonathan. The two-headed giant was nearly 13’ tall and the splotches of blood around the cave entrance didn’t seem to bode well for anyone else trapped inside. Jonathan and Ghelt engaged the creature immediately while Fafnir scrambled right up the cave wall for a better vantage point. Ghelt was nearly cut down by the creature in one attack, and Jonathan reeled back from it looking drained. I noticed that the taut skin on the ettin looked nearly mummified, and cast a spell meant to do damage to undead. It was fairly effective, as was the attack Fafnir made from the ceiling of the cave. Luckily, we were able to dispatch it without anymore damage to our party, though after treating Jonathan as best as I could I believe that the ettin was a wight— a terrible combination to be sure!

The next task at hand was to liberate his captives. Jonathan, looked on the Ettin for a keyring or something to help us rescue the dwarves we were here to rescue. He didn’t find any keys, but did find a sack of gold and a bronze disk that radiates magic. We’re not yet sure what that does. As we searched the cave, two filthy creatures with scaly grey skin clambered out of a crevasse at the back of the cave, offering us a substantial reward for allowing them to leave unharmed. I cast Detect Evil, wondering if they had been in cahoots with the ettin, as they certainly weren’t dwarves! Just as my spell showed them to be evil, Korin came racing into the cave yelling “They’re trying to kill me!” and shot two arrows right into one of the creatures. The other immediately attacked Ghelt, and knowing she was still quite injured from the fight with the ettin, I felt there was no recourse but to slay the two vile creatures and so fought back. We were able to dispatch them without further injury to ourselves.

Korin explained that the two “dwarves” we’d met near the bridge were grimlocks that had transformed into similar creatures as soon as he was alone with them. Ironically, even though he didn’t kill that pair, they chose to flee from his attacks. While the pair of grimlocks in the cave hadn’t attacked us first, it’s quite likely they would have done so had we not been strong enough to fight the ettin.

Fafnir was still on the ceiling, and he “crawled” into the chamber behind the grimlocks’ crevasse (which was strewn with humanoid bones), finding some more treasure for our trouble: an enchanted shortspear, and a small iron box. Korin and Ghelt were able to open the (thankfully untrapped) box, which revealed 8 bars of jade. The cave itself provided us with a good camping place for the night.

The next day’s journey was also fairly uneventful. We eventually came to a place where we had to choose a direction— right up to a stone fortress or continue left up the road we’d been following north. The fortress was clearly the ancestral home of the dwarves: Barraktor. Though we hadn’t originally planned to go there first, Ghelt was suspicious that whatever did haunt Barraktor would likely follow us to Arun-tosa, so it was best to “get it over with” and explore the fortress.

Getting through the stone doors was simple enough. I was worried that we didn’t all have enchanted weapons, which may be necessary against some undead. While discussing with Ghelt and Korin the best way for Korin to safely use the Sword of Pelor, Jonathan and Fafnir apparently went on ahead of us through the first corridor. We were alerted to this fact after a quiet twang reverberated through the hall followed by a hail of crossbow bolts— Jonathan had found a tripwire.

After a bit of first aid, we wandered through the once great Great Hall, still a magnificent sight with balconies on either side and huge double doors at each end. In fact, Barraktor has a lot of doors. After finding many, many doors in the next hallway, we opted to start at one end and go door to door.

The first room was disastrous. Filled with shadows that could melt through walls (and armor!), I was able to destroy three when turning undead, but one eluded me, and I had to settle for just scaring it off. Jonathan was so weak from one that touched him that we actually had to drag him back outside, and Korin and Ghelt were looking a bit weakened as well. I patched people up as best as I could, and Korin went back inside to destroy what we hoped was the last shadow— the Sword of Pelor seems to provide him with some inner strength, even if he’s not aware of it. Unfortunately, he encountered even more shadows and had to flee back to the relative safety of our camp.

It was a harrowing night— the shadows eventually braved the doors of Barraktor and surrounded our camp. Ghelt opted to use the spear we’d just found, and Korin was delighted to wield his sword again. We eventually destroyed the shadows that followed us and managed to pass the rest of the night unmolested. Now we must decided whether to rest another day, go back inside Barraktor, or continue on to Arun-tosa.

It worries me. If we are no match for the undead in the ancient Dwarven home, how will we stand against them in the City of the Dead?

Sunday, Flocktime 9, 592 CY

It turns out we are a match for the undead here, when we work as a team. Korin seems to have found an inner strength, perhaps from the Sword of Pelor. In fact, if Pelor’s symbol wasn’t on the sword, I’d be seriously worried that it had somehow taken over Korin’s personality. But, he was a strong fighter before we found him in the orc slave mines, and he may have just needed some focus to come to terms with that.

We ventured back into Barraktor in the morning, and went to the uppermost level first. After a night with no fire, we looked at a lot of the old weapons and furnishings as potential kindling. The rooms didn’t contain the secrets to defeating the undead (as I think we all hoped, somehow), but we did defeat four more shadows. A daylight spell proved useful to keep them from slipping away from us, but it still took a group effort to destroy them. Sometimes my attempts to destroy undead only turn them temporarily, and I don’t wish them to sneak around behind us, so I’m limiting my use of turning unless there are more than we can handle. Ghelt is intrigued by the way I was imbuing Jonathan’s sword with divine magic and has used it on her own war axe.

We continued through a group of little 10’ by 10’ rooms, finding little of interest. At one point though, when Ghelt was in a room on the opposite side of a long hall of little rooms, I heard her call for help and I went pelting down the corridor, to find her battling for her life against a really nasty wraith. It left when the rest of us got to the room (which was good, since there was no room to fight!) but left her looking very unhealthy. After that, we decided that looking room by room in a place where the inhabitants could float through ceilings and walls was fruitless. Ghelt and Jonathan found a hidden stairwell going down, so down we went.

After descending for a very long time, we came to a door and emerged from the stairs in a much lower level of Barraktor. We were in a hall with several sets of alcoves on either side, and a door ahead of us. The frame around it said “Hall of Heroes” in dwarvish script (which I can read, thanks to Ghelt’s tutelage). We continued in. The hall was big. Really big! The hall had tiers of statues paying homage to dwarves of eons past. Ghelt was clearly awestruck— I just warned the others not to touch anything (I could already picture them “scavenging” for magical weapons and armor). We finally came to a set of double doors covered in artwork— artwork very similar to that on Ghelt’s magical helm. And sure enough, when our other attempts to open the door failed, Ghelt’s helm began to glow and the doors creaked open!

We continued on for a bit, when our normally agile halfling stumbled on something. Suddenly, the ceiling began to crumble and large pieces of rock fell. The footing was harrowing while trying to dodge the debris, resulting in Ghelt and Fafnir tripping as well. Thankfully Korin and Jonathan were able to scoop up Ghelt while I grabbed Fafnir, and we raced forward. When the avalanche stopped, the way behind us was blocked.

We walked on and down another set of stairs, and eventually came to a chasm with the remnants of a bridge jutting out into the center of it. On the opposite side of the chasm, a ghostly reenactment of a battle between dwarves, shadows, and some otherworldly bat-like things played over and over. I’m not sure what was causing it— and they certainly were not aware of us. The floor on either side of the chasm was littered with the bones and equipment of the dead fighters— we found two javelins of lightning and some crossbow bolts that were magical— and I detected magical treasure on the other side of the chasm as well.

But how to cross? The open distance was at least 40’— too far for any of us not using magical means. As we searched for a way across, I absentmindedly kicked some dirt out on the bridge—perhaps hoping that, like the battle raging silently across from us, its absence was also illusory. Sadly, the dirt just fell through the opening, and I continued my search for anything that might help us, when I heard... flapping, coming up from the depths of the chasm. I turned to warn the others just in time for us to be set upon by six vargouilles—nasty creatures from the infernal planes that look like (and in fact are) a head with batwings protruding from where the ears should be. The sight was too much for Jonathan and Ghelt, so Fafnir, Korin and I were left to battle them alone, while they froze in fear.

As if the fiendish flapping heads weren’t enough, I sensed something behind the frozen form of Jonathan, and turned in time to see that the wraith had followed us, and was in contact with the fighter. I was able to turn it with such divine power as to destroy it, but not until after it had drained quite a bit of health from Jonathan. Like he can afford it! Fortunately, we were able to kill five of the vargouilles quickly, though the remaining one had kissed Ghelt while she was frozen in fear. I sliced it in two in midair, but the damage was done. Ghelt spent several harrowing hours waiting to turn into one herself, but thankfully her already-drained constitution was able to fight off the effects of the deadly kiss.

While I prayed for more spells to help Ghelt and the others, Fafnir cast a spiderclimb spell on Korin and he crossed the chasm to see what magical items awaited us— hoping to help Ghelt, whom he seems to have sworn to protect. A closer look at the ghostly battle shows that the winged things flapping about were likely vargouilles fighting in conjunction with the undead. Thankfully no more appeared to fight us!

Korin came back to us toting dwarven half-plate (which magically shrank to fit the halfling) and magical boots (which also shrank to fit him), a magical dwarven urgrosh for Ghelt and a ring of protection, plus an enchanted heavy crossbow. Jonathan and Fafnir split the stuff we’d found on this side. My comrades always offer the treasure to the person that most needs it or is most qualified to use it, so it’s likely things will pass around the party again. I myself prefer light and quick equipment, and am not likely to find much of that in a dwarven stronghold, but perhaps our further journeys will introduce me to something embued with divine magic to fight the increasing number of undead.

Sunday, Flocktime 9, 592 CY, continued

I think this is still the 9th of Flocktime, though it is hard to tell. I miss the sun! Today was just one harrowing experience after another. The first thing we had to do was cross the chasm, and, thinking this to be a simple enough task, sent Korin scrambling across the chasm using a spider climb spell courtesy of Fafnir. Korin took ropes across so that each end could be secured and we could each climb across with a spare rope in case we got in trouble. For reasons we could not see, the ropes kept coming untied as soon as one of us was halfway across, and it seemed as if someone or something was purposely doing it! But, we never saw our invisible antagonist and continued on our way, slightly bumped and bruised, once the last of us made it across.

We walked a short distance, through traps that had already been long-ago sprung, and stumbled into over a dozen dwarven zombies. I took out most of them with a divine turning, and I hate to say that Jonathan used one of the priceless javelins of lightning to chip away at another. Thankfully the rest of the undead were dispatched quickly and easily.

We passed through many deserted rooms— one contained a beautiful mural and a dry fountain, another had wooden bunks (again, we looked upon them as so much potential firewood). Once again, Jonathan showed us just how a trap was meant to work by falling into it and counting the spikes from the inside. The rest of us were able to jump the 10’ pit except poor Ghelt. Dwarves are not aerodynamic. She was injured by two spikes but was able to clamber out, more flustered than hurt.

We spent the bulk of our time and energy in a rather large chamber with 6 columns and 6 doors and a lot of shadows. Jonathan and Korin were running ahead of us and were well into the room before the shadows made their presence known. Luckily Ghelt came in next and did an amazing turning of her own— destroying all 15 of the shadows at once! As we were congratulating her though, the room suddenly went dark as two more menacing shadows detached themselves from the ceiling. Even my daylight spell was only enough to cast a dim glow for us to see by. Hoping these shadowy forms would turn as easily as their lesser brethren, I cast a turn undead myself— and nothing happened. These shadows were not of the undead variety! Suddenly, Korin dropped the Sword of Pelor and ran screaming from the room (and luckily made it past the pit trap) as one of the demonic shadows flew right into Jonathan’s body. Not good! I left Fafnir at the doorway to cast magic missiles at the one shadowy form still on the ceiling while Ghelt tried to knock Jonathan out without killing him. The possessed Jonathan, of course, had no such inhibitions towards Ghelt and was hitting her pretty hard. Just as I got to Jonathan myself to help subdue him, I felt a sharp pain between my shoulder blades. Looking back, I saw that Fafnir was no longer fighting the shadowy demon (for the ceiling was now empty!) and was lobbing his returning dagger at me repeatedly! Not knowing what else to do to help Ghelt (Jonathan’s bastard sword was doing much more damage to her than the dagger would to me) I cast a blessing on my allies (which, at this point, was only Ghelt and myself!), and cast heat metal on Jon’s blade, hoping it would become too hot and he’d drop it. I then went to heal Ghelt until the heat took effect. Apparently whatever possessed Jon didn’t mind if he was in pain though, as he didn’t let go. Finally, I was getting desperate and knocked him out with searing light, which thankfully forced the shadow out of him. Ghelt and I slashed at the shadowy form a few times and must have weakened it, for it disappeared into the floor. I quickly went to heal the unconscious Jonathan while Ghelt went to subdue Fafnir, who was still lobbing his dagger at us. After Jonathan had enough energy to stand, I went to help Ghelt subdue our wizard. Korin, no longer fearful, shot back into the room and was soon in a heap with Fafnir. Unfortunately for Korin though, half of the attempts to subdue Fafnir landed on him, knocking him out too. Fafnir too finally succumbed, and the demonic shadow left him— and also drifted into the floor before we could finish it off.

All of this took less than an hour, I think, and we still have a long way to go. Korin now refuses to touch the Sword of Pelor, and I fear he will fall back into his incomprehensible ways. We aren’t even sure we are headed in the proper direction anymore, or how long our light will last.

Moonday, Flocktime 10, 592 CY

Some of us, possibly all of us, have gone a bit peculiar.

After poking around in a few rooms and tunnels surrounding the room we’d fought the shadows in (and seeing one of the shadows disappear just as we caught up with it again), we came across a tunnel in which the darkness was somehow darker than “regular” darkness. For perhaps the only time since this particular band has traveled together, it was unanimously agreed that it would be foolish to enter it. There’s plenty of other things to threaten our lives with in this place while still having some visibility, at least.

We came next to a hallway that looked safe enough, and Korin immediately began to scout ahead. Lucky for him that Ghelt keeps him on some sort of leash and could quickly pull him back, as she spotted a dwarven “meat grinder” trap in ceiling, not yet sprung. Jonathan offered his shoulders for her to stand on to examine the trap, and she flipped a lever inside, apparently allowing us safe passage, for we each went pelting down the corridor as fast as we could, never springing the trap.

A set of double doors was available to us at the other end of the hall, and upon opening them, we found ourselves in a throne room littered with a half dozen skeletal remains of dwarves laying about, and one sitting on the throne. Of course, these immediately sprang up to fight us when we were all in the room. While Fafnir and Fingers examined some tapestries, I turned the first 6 skeletons to dust. Ghelt’s urgrosh was able to hack down the one remaining skeleton who only cowered from my turning. I admit, I was nearly overwhelmed by the powerful wrongness of that last skeleton, and was glad she had the strength to take it out. Most of the remains had nothing but rusty weapons, but this last one had a well-balanced dwarven waraxe that radiated magic. Ghelt didn’t want it, though Jonathan and Korin both needed a more potent weapon (and Korin doesn’t seem inclined to use the Sword of Pelor again). Jonathan took the magic weapon, while Ghelt offered her Mithril axe to the halfling.

I confess that I still was a bit shaken from the encounter with that last undead dwarf when Fafnir ran over to me to tell me that our three companions where knocked out and possibly dying in a trap in the next room! I ran to the doorway he indicated to see our friends laying in the middle of a small room with four statues, the air around them crackling with lightning. Jonathan, as usual, looked the worst off, and was closest to me, so I hauled his 300+ pounds of body and gear out of the room and used one of my remaining healing spells to revive him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to grab the other two on my own, so he agreed to run in, grab them simultaneously and toss them through the doorway to safety. And he was true to his word, though he was zapped by the statues again. Luckily he fell back towards me after throwing them into the room, so I hauled him back to the relative safety, healing them all just enough to stabilize them. I was able to get Ghelt conscious at least, and Korin eventually woke up. While trying to decide if I should use the Sword of Pelor on our comrades in the hope that it would do more healing then harm, I asked for a volunteer to scratch me with it so I could determine if it could be used that way. Fafnir grabbed the sword, and then threw it through the door of the room with the lightning trap!

At this point, I realized that one of us was a bit unstable. I’m pretty sure it’s Fafnir— though I’m sure his tossing of a holy relic into the next room was his way of “helping” me from becoming “cursed” by the sword. While he is a magic user by trade, he is suspicious of divine magic—and if he can’t understand it, it must be cursed. I must confess, if my faith wasn’t strong, I’d be concerned with the amount of mishaps that have occurred while the sword was in use, but those incidents are surely because we didn’t know how the sword was originally intended to be used.

In any event, I was a bit miffed by his actions and was worried that Pelor would no longer allow me to heal him. Ironically, Pelor had his own way of dealing with that. But I am getting ahead of myself!

As we took turns watching the room and the unconscious Jonathan while resting from our ordeals, some unusual sounds emanated from the room with the electricity trap. An ochre jelly was oozing through the trap room, unconcerned by the bombardment of lightning it was receiving. Thinking quickly, Ghelt ran and shut the door to the room, while I tried to haul Jonathan further away (which I was only able to do when Ghelt was back and doing most of the lifting!). The jelly oozed under the door, and Korin grabbed a piece of tapestry from the wall and lit it, hoping to burn the jelly, while Fafnir cast magic missiles at it. The jelly split in two and the first was quickly dispatched. I yelled to Fafnir to use his wand of acid—thankfully that took out the second jelly.

When we felt we had rested enough, I made Fafnir promise to get the sword he’d thrown into the next room, figuring with his flying spells he could get through the room quickly and without mishap. He did make it through the room, and then there was a yelp. We looked through the lightning room, and there stood Fafnir safely through the door at the other end, with the Sword of Pelor sticking out of his side. Luckily, the healing powers of the sword do work if the recipient of the healing is not the wielder—as Fafnir pulled the sword out his side healed up, and he looked a bit more healthy as well. I’m sure that he’s still of the belief that the sword is somehow playing with us.

Before I knew it, Jon jumped through the lightning room after him, followed by Korin. Of course, they were a bit singed upon their arrival on the other side. I jumped through after them—and somehow managed to dodge all the lightning bolts. I dreaded Ghelt having to go through—dwarfs are hearty, but not necessarily agile, but... nothing. Ghelt went through completely unharmed—apparently the trap was made to be “dwarf-friendly”—the only reason she’d been zapped before was from bolts likely meant for our other comrades.

Not wishing to go back through a field of lightning, we found ourselves at the top of very ancient and very dilapidated stairs winding down into the darkness. The steps were crumbling in many spots, and missing for gaps of 10’ in others. With Fafnir’s spells and Jonathan’s strength, we were able to get safely to the bottom with only a few mishaps. Once we heard the dreaded flapping of leathery wings—thankfully, they were only bats, but there were dozens of them disrupted and streaming past us as we descended. The other problem was more—puzzling. Korin keeps calling the dwarven waraxe we just found his “precious” and insists that Jonathan give it to him—and for a few tense moments, Korin was holding Jon at arrow point! And more puzzling, when Ghelt suggested that Jonathan trade with Korin to keep the peace, the normally easy-going Jonathan refused to give up the axe, saying he preferred to keep it. Neither is particularly interested in the Sword of Pelor—Jon has it in his pack now, and Korin is sulking over the axe.

They aren’t coming to blows thankfully, at least not yet! We managed to descend about 200’ to the bottom of a cave complex—we can hear water flowing in two passageways, but will be taking a third, quieter one that we are hoping leads north to Arun-tosa. I feel that Pelor has granted me more divine abilities today—I can cast a very useful spell now and used it to request aid from the one party member we left on the surface—I hope Valon can make haste returning to us! I need some rather specific components to return Ghelt and Jonathan to their former health, and would appreciate more light to keep the shadows at bay (or at least visible). I’m composing a short “Sending” to Valon now and if he replies I will include his answer when next I write.

Perhaps when he is back with us, he can allay our fears about some of the magical items we’ve picked up.

Godsday, Flocktime 11, 592 CY

Valon, in typical bard fashion, sent his reply to me in a rhyme:

Been fighting Dwarves of the deep.
Fortunate Elves need little sleep.
Unsure I can get all that dust.
Reply. Will do what I must.

Of course, I had to wait for 24 hours to pass to send him more information— it is a wonderful spell, but also a powerful one that I can only use once per day. And what a day it was!

I was finally able to convince Ghelt and Jonathan that the Sword of Pelor could be used to heal them (Korin simply would not be convinced, so I promised him I would use “regular” spells on him if the time came and he needed healing). I’m sure it would have looked alarming to anyone, seeing a cleric of a healing deity stabbing her comrades! Thankfully, it healed them up nicely, and we were able to move on. Korin, in a conspiratorial tone said, “The axe is going to kill him!” I can only assume he means Jonathan, though I’m not sure if he meant the axe Jonathan himself is carrying or the one Korin borrowed from Ghelt.

We walked a ways up the tunnel we’d chosen and came to two lines of holes equidistant apart and evenly spaced. Ghelt said they must have been where the tracks to the old dwarven mines were— but why were they pulled up? Our answer came scuttling along soon enough— a tentacled rust monster! As we attempted to fight it without using any metal weapons (metal being its favorite food), two more scurried up to us, one touching Korin’s magical half-plate with a tentacle. The armor fell off of him in a pile of rust— and was consumed by two of the creatures. Fafnir was able to kill one with a spell, but we only injured the other two, before deciding a hasty departure would be in our best interest. Korin yelled, “Stop doing that, we’re not running from rodents!” to no one in particular as we ran.

I’m sorry to confess that I got rather cross with Korin talking to his “invisible” friends instead of us. I honestly cannot tell if he is mad or just really, really in tune with a different plane. I suspect the former, but will try to keep an open mind.

We kept running, taking branches in the tunnels that looked like they were in the general direction we wanted to head and kept running from the rust monsters that scurried along behind us, until we came to an area where the metal tracks started up again. There were rust monsters in the area, but they had not yet eaten the metal, and in fact were all dead— torn apart recently by some unknown horror. We kept moving as fast as we could.

Soon we came to a 40’ rift in the middle of a cavern. Looking down over the rock face, Korin said he could make out swirling “red” below us, and it was all we could do to keep him from climbing in for a better look. In fact, as Jonathan was trying to pull him back from the edge, huge red centipedes came skittering up the sides, attacking them both.

Apparently, this would be one of the “rifts to ungodly planes” made by the sorcerers of Arun-tosa, according to dwarven legend.

Luckily, only five of these vermin came at us— we were able to defeat them with a combined attack using magic and steel. Korin was hurt though— luckily he trusted me enough to heal him— he usually holds out for Ghelt to do it. He responded to this momentous occasion by saying, “No, she helped me!” to no one I could see. Fafnir cast spider climb on Jonathan, who then helped us all across the rift. Well, actually, Korin just climbed across, as if hanging at odd angles from rock is a natural thing for him.

We followed the mine tracks for a bit more, and then heard a “slapping” sound behind us. Turning around, we saw big spheres of arms, legs and mouth rolling at us— abyssal maws! Fafnir cast a lightning spell at them and all four creatures just— died. I wish I would have had a bit more warning, since I was standing on the metal tracks at the time, but I was really only singed. Korin said, “Don’t be rude, she’s probably never seen one before.” I have no idea....

We turned back to the tracks we were following and saw— daylight! The cavern ahead of us had a pair of stone doors, broken outward (they had been bolted with a large stone bar across them), revealing a valley beyond. Now, I’m not sure I want to know what was big enough and strong enough to do that (and was perhaps responsible for the freshly killed rust monsters behind us), but I truly missed the light of the sun and was anxious to be in it again.

The sun was setting over a valley full of crumbling architecture— no doubt Arun-tosa. We thought it best to stay in the cave near the entrance for the night, not wanting to leave the fresh air, but not sure which place would be safer. Fortunately, the night passed without incident for a change.

Dawn gave us a better view of the City of the Dead. There were hundreds of little buildings littering the city, most of which were damaged beyond repair. Five larger and better-maintained buildings survived, with one 60’ to 80’ tall stone tower, appearing to be at least 40’ in diameter, standing in the center. We made plans to investigate a large building in the southeast quadrant of the city first, as it looked to be a temple. But where was Korin? I had missed it, but he had yelled something about “seeing dead people” and rushed down into the valley, and it was assumed that he was just talking about the “friends” the rest of us couldn’t see.

A few minutes later as we had just started down to the buildings ourselves, he came hurtling back towards us, three ghouls scrambling along behind him. Korin stopped to vomit once he got close enough to us. I honestly assumed that we could easily defeat the ghouls, and we did, but no thanks to me. I attempted to wield the Sword of Pelor, but just didn’t manage to land a blow. Luckily my comrades were in better form and took the ghouls out quickly, but not before poor Korin was paralyzed by a ghoul’s touch. He was wounded too, and I felt this was my fault since I hadn’t turned the undead.

Not wishing to upset the halfling further, I chose to cast a small healing spell on his wounds rather than use the sword. I must confess, though my faith is strong, I am uncomfortable using the sword to heal someone that cannot give me permission to do so. But, something horrible happened. Just as I completed my spell, Korin’s body began to decompose before my eyes! I looked and saw that Ghelt could see it too. I thought I must have really, really offended Pelor by not using the sword if my healing spells (for his domain is healing) could do this. To make matters worse, as I went to cradle Korin’s desiccated body, his head fell off and rolled away.

I was beside myself with guilt and, grisly though it was, in my shock I could only think to grab his head and try to put it back on his body. Fafnir suggested that Ghelt could help Korin through her own diety. I just wanted to take Korin out of this horrible valley and grabbed what I could of him, carting him back to the cave we’d camped in. As I was climbing the hill, I heard commotion behind me, and saw Ghelt backhanding Fafnir, who was giggling! Jonathan was walking towards Fafnir menacingly and hit him as well. I turned back and noticed two things next— Fafnir was shooting a lightning bolt at Ghelt and Jonathan, but it wasn’t a real bolt, and there was a halfling hanging from the head I had tucked under my arm! I continued towards the cave though, hugging the now alive (but still paralyzed) halfling to me, while my remaining comrades beat each other up.

Apparently, Fafnir thought it would be very funny if he cast an image of a dead Korin over the one I was healing, just at the moment I was casting. I will do my best to forgive him— he does enjoy casting illusions, and they have little effect on undead (which I suspect will be the bulk of the population here), so I think he is frustrated about that. Mostly though, I am just relieved that I didn’t kill Korin with a healing spell! I didn’t realize just how protective I am towards my comrades, but this also means that I must make sure they all are still on speaking terms with one another, so I will do my best to put this incident behind me.

One way to occupy my own mind for a few minutes was to compose a new Sending spell to Valon, since we made it to the City of the Dead well before we thought we would:

Forget dust; just bring you!
Arun-tosa map proved true.
Arrived via southern mine.
Checking big structures first a shrine.
Comrades’ brains already mush...
Please rush!

I got a very speedy reply:

Asked for advice.
Got nothing nice.
Dwarves say Arun-tosa is BAD.
Traveling to, purely mad.
The journey is hard.
But traveling there, this Elven bard.

Now that Korin can move again, perhaps we’ll head down to the building we originally planned to check out first.

Waterday, Flocktime 12, 592 CY

While we seem to be getting better at working as a team, we lost a team member in the process.

As planned, we explored the temple in the southwestern quadrant of Arun-tosa, and as expected, the bronze doors were emblazoned with the skull and scythe symbol of Nerull. Walking in, we saw vaulted ceilings and a balcony, as well as an altar on a raised dais. A wispy humanoid form rose from the altar, and both Korin and I became fascinated by a hypnotic murmuring that came from the undead creature. Jonathan ran forward to attack the thing with his waraxe, while Fafnir stayed back to cast ranged spells, and Ghelt (thankfully) ran to me to snap me out of my trance. Unfortunately, the creature touched Jon before we could finish it off, which the Sword of Pelor did— my turning attempt didn’t seem to do much more than upset it. After Korin came out of his own trance, he told me that even though he was still upset by it, he’d like to carry the sword again, which pleases me greatly. We stabbed each other with it a few times, and he seemed delighted that it healed (as we knew it would!) and later after making some rather prolonged eye-contact with me, turned to Ghelt and told her, “Not blue— violet!”

In addition to an altar (which Jon knocked over in his fervor to hit the ghostly creature), we found two doors— one went to a small cloakroom with stairs leading to the balcony, and the other also led to the balcony, and to a lower level. Before we could stop him, Jon went down the steps, so we followed. The room below had a huge seal with Nerull’s symbol on the floor, and a set of doors with glowing runes beyond it, which looked as though a circular key was needed to pass through them. I’m now sure that the undead thing in the altar did something to Jon’s wisdom, for he immediately stomped right across the seal, which obviously drained some life out of him. Ghelt called for him to come back, which he did— right across the seal again, which drained him a bit more.

Before we could deal with the seal however, we heard Korin upstairs fighting something, and the something apparently had caught him on fire (and also melted the candle he was toting around). While Fafnir puzzled over the seal a moment longer, the rest of us dashed up the steps, just in time to be wreathed in flames by the attack of a winged skeleton. Jonathan was immediately knocked out. I cast Create Water on Ghelt (who fought the creature), Jonathan and myself while yelling to Korin to roll around to put the fire out on himself. We managed to kill one creature— the other took off. Thankfully we have the sword to heal us, for even with three clerics in the party (I see that Korin has decided to heed the wisdom of Yondalla), we would be out of healing spells very quickly in this place.

We decided to head to the barracks-like building in the southeast quadrant of the city, seeing that most, if not all, of the buildings between the temple and there were in ruins. As we walked, the evil surrounding us was almost palpable, and I cautiously suggested that we stand back to back (though Korin decided to face the wrong way so he could moon any would-be assailants). We were soon surrounded by 13 ghouls, which thankfully, are not a match for a cleric-filled party!

We quickly finished our trek to the barracks. It stands about 40’ tall, with much higher towers— Korin climbed the outside of one of the towers to gain entry while the rest of us investigated a door at the back. I was hoping we could gain entrance without alerting anything inside to our arrival, but the wisdom-damaged Jonathan began to hack at the wooden door with his waraxe. He soon broke through, and had his hand shaken by a wight. We slew that wight and three more following it, then followed Jonathan into the barracks.

We immediately found ourselves about to enter a chamber with five demonic creatures in it— four were pathetic blubbery things (dretches) that seemed unable to attack us effectively, and one mass of tentacles with a slug-like head that lashed out at us, immediately pulling Jonathan and Ghelt to it. Jonathan was crushed instantly. Ghelt was able to get herself free of its tentacled grasp while Fafnir and I hurled spells at it (and Korin came running down from the tower as quickly as he could). We were able to kill it— Fafnir used every spell in his arsenal and the last magical missile brought the creature down. We made short work of the dretches.

Ghelt seemed a little, well, stupid after the encounter— she didn’t seem to know who she was, how to speak, or who we were, or even what to do with her weapons and equipment! A restoration spell brought back her ability to speak, albeit monosyllabically. We had to rest for the night so I could cast enough to get her back to herself again. Thankfully, the night passed quietly.

Now, we have to decide how to put Jonathan to rest, not only because it’s the proper thing to do, but in the City of the Dead, improper death rites may result in him coming back to us as an undead creature— a fate he certainly does not deserve. Fafnir and Korin are already trying to figure out how to carry all the equipment our larger companion carried for us. He was only with us for one short week, but he will be missed.

Waterday, Flocktime 12, 592 CY, continued

More deaths, and in such a short time!

While Ghelt and I tended to Jonathan’s remains as best we could, Korin and Fafnir were apparently rummaging around in the rest of the barracks— through the kitchen, captain’s office and so on. They did find several magical arrows before Ghelt and I caught up with them. We then went into the basement of the barracks and found a long hallway lined with cell doors with little “windows” in them. Being the tallest of our remaining group, I ventured into the narrow corridor, planning on peeking in one of these windows. As soon as I stepped into the hallway however, all the doors opened and ten grotesquely misshapen figures emerged. I was able to turn a few to dust, but not all, and my comrades took to slicing into them with weapons. Upon “death” the creatures would explode in a noxious black vapor. Ghelt dragged me outside after one exploded so I could get some relatively fresh air, and then she went in again to explore further while I watched two distant objects approaching the ground from well above the city. I thought my ears picked up an “....aaaaaaaahhh...” sound, but couldn’t be sure. While I was determining what to do about the plummeting objects (which I now assumed were of a non-flighted nature, since they were doing nothing to remain aloft), Ghelt and the others found a magical greatsword in one of the cells below. By the time they came up from the basement, I had pretty much guessed that the falling creatures were humanoid, and finally decided, when they began to gently descend like feathers to the earth a few hundred yards beyond us, that they were Valon and a companion.

Fafnir quickly put an illusion of a “We are here!” sign above us in the sky so they would know where we were, and we hoped that they would get to us before the wandering bands of undead found them. Luckily they saw Fafnir’s sign and hurried to us.

Our greeting had to be brief, but we managed to learn that Valon’s companion was Markus, a human wizard that had traveled with him via teleport from the dwarves in Midrock, and that they had the diamond dust I needed to cure Ghelt (and Jonathan, who of course no longer needed it). Valon had to use his bardic ability to fascinate Korin to prevent a rather unwarranted attack against Markus (Markus had been “