RPG@QUT Matt's D&D

Dungeons and Dragons
Theren's Log

{As always, Theren’s log never lets the truth get in the way of a good story, so for a more accurate depiction of events, look to either the DM log (first and second) or Zepher’s log. I apologise for the length of this post, I would have divided it into 5 years ago and now, but for the fact that I am using an alphabetic alliteration for my titles, and I really didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to use ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ for D [= }

I would begin this log with a brief interlude – a memory from my past that assailed me during my time at the Twisting Halls. At the moment I am writing from a dragon den, and there is a dragon in it. I am not frightened of this dragon, though, for it is under my power.

It was quite some time ago, so long I had almost forgotten. I had been told to cut some firewood for the family, and of course not to stray too far from the house. With my natural energy, however, you must understand that I could not be restrained. I took my father’s sword and crossbow from the house. He uses them when he goes out into the woods, in case he is attacked.

I had heard of some caves that weren’t too far. Thinking I might go and claim them for myself, I hurried out while the day was young. From the moment I stepped foot outside my house there was someone following me. I knew of course, but I did not think they meant me harm, so I let them follow as best they could. Of course I was so fleet of foot they nearly lost me, and several times I had to practice my swordplay to give them time to catch up (although even as a youth I was a master swordsman, and had to pretend to practice – in truth I require no practice).

Soon enough we came to the caves. After an initial squeeze (my muscles could barely fit through the small gaps in some cases) I came to a vast cavern. The ground was covered in deep, cold water and the roof was shrouded in a curtain of old disused spider webs. All around there were glowing rocks that provided illumination by which I might see vast columns of stone off to one side. There was also some sort of island. The water was still and black, like polished stone, and it reflected the webs above. It was eerie, and had I been less courageous I might have fled.

I moved through the water until I found myself on the island. There was a small area inside a low wall that would make good protection, should anyone be attacked. Inside was a corpse. It looked mummified! I was just inspecting it when the person who was following finally found their way into the cave. I decided they must have been following me in the hope of plundering any treasure that I might find on my adventure. For that reason I took the only item of interest I could find on the corpse – a fine golden necklace with a strange leaf on it. I had no time to examine the loot however; the stranger advanced quickly, wanting to know where I was and who I was. I quickly ducked into the protection of the wall, lying next to the corpse. It was dry and cold, and so bereft of life that it surprised me. I felt as though it should not look quite as human as it did. I named him Bony because it was too much to share a space with a nameless corpse.

Well the end of this tale is further away than I had realised, but basically we were attacked by stirges – nasty blood sucking things (I discovered). Another fellow dropped in halfway through… Come to think of it, that third person may have even been a dwarf on stilts. No wonder I have such a natural hatred of dwarves, seeing as he insisted on referring to me as a ‘boy’ when I was clearly the most experienced of the group. I must have slayed hundreds of them in total and saved everyone in there. We were joined by even more adventurers and I came to wonder if there was some sort of adventurer convention in my little secluded cave. Never-the-less, as soon as the immediate enemies were dealt with, everyone but me fled the cave, caring only for the skin on their own backs.

Having shared shelter with Bony so long, I was loath to leave him in the eerie darkness of the cave, so I carried him with me when I left. I almost didn’t make it, but finally we escaped. Even in the light of day, however, I was unable to discern the identity of the stranger, so I laid him to rest with a grave marker, saying he was killed by the stirges (for he obviously had been) and the date that I found him. Sometimes when I see the chain and mysterious leaf I think of Bony, and I wonder at who he could have been to die alone in a cave so far from anywhere without any possessions to identify himself. I have not shared this tale with anyone previously.

After the fight was done, Amos and Kat decided they should take Vilma as far from the dungeon as they could. There had been a great deal of argument about whether we should kill her or not, but I did not deign to enter into it, because killing captive old women is so far below me… even if she did insult me in an attempt to get me to attack her. They also took Concorde with them to make sure he would be safe. Of this action I approve, for a dungeon is no place for a horse. Jorn unwisely decided to play with a rune door while I experimented with Zephyr, extinguishing torches to provide better cover for the party. Yawn somehow managed to anger whoever was behind the door (although we know now it must have been Farallax) and nearly got his beard frozen off. Honestly, being both irritating and stupid is a potent mixture when it comes to trouble-making… Thank goodness I am in this party to take care of everyone!

We decided to advance into the next area. Between Vilma’s information, and my knowledge of the temple layout, I had a good idea of what was to come, and I discretely went about concealing myself. I felt that with fewer members in the group, we would benefit from the element of surprise. Fortunately my skills in stealth are so good that when I am hidden, even I have difficulty seeing myself. They ran into a pair of kobold almost immediately. Is that a plural like sheep or is it kobolds? I don’t know. Either way there were two of them, but they didn’t look like they would attack, so Zephyr and Yawn tried to engage them in a conversation. It was pretty pathetic but I guess it’s because they didn’t have me in there giving them advice and easing the tension. I just have a way with words, really. Anyway the kobold/s decided to escort everyone to see ‘Farallax’ and they kept snickering to themselves. Anyone could see something was going on. I easily slipped past them, taking a look around their quarters at my leisure – silent as a shadow, invisible as a gust of breeze… so sort of like a shadow of a breeze. That’s pretty poetic, but as I said, I just have a way with words.

Eventually I came to a place where I did not think I could continue past without moving into an area devoid of cover – even for a genius like myself. To do so we walked past a number of auspicious looking altars dedicated to various gods. They looked well enough kept. It seems ironic that the monsters would do a better job than the minotaurs of legend.

The others were swiftly delivered to a fledgling dragon – some sort of gatekeeper. It was white, and mist rolled off its body in clouds. The very air around its scales crackled with ice, and even I could feel the cool from outside the chamber. The other two found the dragon to be stupid and proud; a typical specimen. He also had a small horde of treasure of which he was excessively pleased. Zephyr and Yawn attempted to woo it with their bumbling, bumpkin charms, but in a competition of pride between the three, I fear Zephyr would win first place, and in a contest of stupidity, the dwarf would take the prize. Feeling thus that they could not do without my wit, charm, and grace, I cunningly made myself more obvious, to make Farallax feel powerful for spotting me. He called me forward, and was impressed with my courtier’s manners. I have no shame in saying that I have studied hard at learning the ways of those more cultured than myself, and I feel confident that I could fit in with any royal court, as a prestigious noble. With sweet words, and an elegant grace I put the dragon at ease and won its trust.

In the back of the cave I saw a suit of armour. I can still see it now, and it irks me to leave it there, for it is made out of mysterious leaves of the same kind that I found around Bony‘s neck all those years ago. I feel it should rightfully be mine. What right does a dragon have to it anyway? He couldn’t fit into it if he tried (and he would look stupid even if he could). I can even see that there is a chink in the armour that my leaf would fit into perfectly. How irritating to have one piece of an item (one that might even save my life on my adventures) but to have the other half of my possession held jealously away by a selfish fool who only wants it because of its monetary value and rarity. It chaffs at my patience, and were I a lesser man elf…

I think there is something I must do immediately. I will continue my writing soon. {there is a break in the writing, which resumes a short way down}

I have given Yawn his stupid golden Pelor symbol. I just… was reminded of it earlier, and realised it might fit into something else that he owned. Being the generous soul that I am I handed it over as soon as I realised, although I am starting to wish I hadn’t because he’s looking up at me now with a strange and unsettling expression that I don’t like seeing on his face… at least not while it is aimed in my direction.

Anyway using my prowess at flattery I discovered that Farallax would be willing to part with the armour in return for the assassination of some Malareth. All we know of this man is that he stinks of death, and that he demands Farallax screen visitors who come to see him with their ‘friends’. Farallax claimed he was not afraid of Malareth but he seemed to quiver in his scales. I suspect Malareth must be the one who owns Concorde for I cannot imagine Farallax would be able to ride such a small mount. This makes it doubly important that we confront the man (if man he be).

There is nothing much left to tell, so I will suffice with describing a few of the more interesting parts of Farallax’s pathetic treasure.

There was a mirror that reflected a scene doused in red. Reflections in the Red Mirror were horrific to behold, so I did not gaze over-long in case my dreams became haunted by the sights that I saw there. Most prominently featured was a dragon who had a woman. She was not there of her own will (my intuition about such matters is never wrong). Farallax seemed to know more about this scene than he let on.

There was also a picture or symbol in the floor. I Don’t know why but it fascinated Zephyr, so perhaps he sees some use to it that is beyond the understanding of those who do not dabble in magic.

I think now I will leave to meditate at one of the altars before we move on.

DM log-- Meeting Farallax

{Amos and Kat were away for this session.}

It is still 22 Patchwall 598 CY.

Kat and Amos escorted Vilma out of Twisting Halls, along with Concorde. The plan was to walk Vilma far enough away that she could not be bothered to come back, and just go home instead, then to hide Concorde somewhere that he’s be unlikely to be found by goblins. As Vilma left, she chillingly warned Theren, “You clever little vole, if you are silly enough to venture under my hut, I hope you like traps…” (then, turning to Jorn,) “…and dark depths…”

Jorn poked randomly at the Sigil Door, ignoring some thudding steps getting closer to the other side of the door. A blast of frigid air came through the cracks around the door, which Jorn dodged but he still got a bad case of frostbite. This froze up the mechanism, though it will thaw again in time.

Zepher and Jorn ventured openly into the north room, finding it as an area of worship. Some kobolds were there. The party did not fight them, and they were escorted to the kobold’s “boss” in the next room, as part of a vetting process. Theren was sneaking behind.

The boss was Farallax, a fledgling white dragon. Fortunately not hungry, Farallax was more concerned with being shown deference as the boss of the place, and the gatekeeper to the rooms beyond. He accepted with grace some gems from Zepher and the party effectively flattered him {with a skill challenge}. Sealing the deal was the party’s agreement to kill Malareth, who Farallax described contemptuously as someone in the back rooms to whom the goblins frequently came— let through only if Farallax could collect treasure as toll. However, the dragon wants Malareth dead, saying he is tired of the traffic through his lair and Malareth has not been showing him enough respect lately. (Insight revealed that actually, the dragon is quite worried that Malareth is now too powerful to defeat.) The party agreed, especially when the dragon promised to exchange a suit of prized armor for Malareth’s head.

A few leads have come to light:

  • The armor that Farallax has put up as a reward appears related to the Dark Leaf found by Theren.
  • The dragon has a Red Mirror which shows a disturbing scene. {Follow the Red Mirror link for more}
  • The dragon has a few scrolls in a forgotten shelf which might be pilfered.
  • In the lair is a teleportation circle. An arcana check revealed that it has been frequently used to go to a certain destination, which the party could glimpse (though this is not ordinarily possible). The destination is a small square room, walled in on all sides, with a very strong-looking door. Murder holes (arrow slits) line the walls.

The party had free passage in the worship rooms. Jorn prayed to Pelor and Theren prayed to Erathis, each getting a bonus for the next encounter.

The party went to the south of Farallax’s lair and soon encountered goblin territory again. They are now being attacked by a few snipers and a dire rat. It would be a great time for their friends to show up and help them…

Zepher's Old Journal (Age:15)

Entry 72: Why are we here?

We have successfully escorted the Baron Stockmer back to Harkenwold without sight of so much as a wolf. I suspect father had some ulterior motive for taking this contract; the pay was low, there was no real need for those with magic and I very much doubt we are likely to find much work out here. We’re spending the night with some nutty old bat my father once knew. She claims to be a Wizard herself but her understanding of magic seems incredibly flawed.

Entry 73: In search of those who sing to tree’s

Father told me that he must prepare a ritual that I am to young and inexperienced to gain any benefit from observing and that he must attend to other business that I’m not needed for afterwards. I find this to be incredibly unusual, he usually involves me at least slightly in most of our business. Still a day off is a day off. One of the villagers mistook me for a full blooded Elf and through this I’ve learnt that an Elven clan known as the Woodsinger Clan resides in the nearby forest. I have such little experience with proper elves I may go in search of them and see what I can learn. Who knows perhaps I’ll find mother. Ha!

No signs of any elves but I just spotted a human boy about my age (slightly older perhaps?) wonder into a dark cave alone. I have a bad feeling about this, I should probably follow him.

I dislike caves. Caves are bad.

Ohh good. A large cavern filled with water and a rope leading down into the cavern. I’m glad dad enchanted this journal to be waterproof.

Unknown subjects body seems to have half a dozen or so puncture marks on his body and to have had the blood completely drained from him. Cause of death is most likely the work of natural beast rather than magic. The boy is yelling out from some place unseen trying to convince me he’s a god. I’m beginning to consider leaving him here to his fate.

The cave was full of Stirges. Lot’s of them. Foul blood sucking creatures. Admittedly the boy was a much better shot than I’d anticipated, even saving me from their sucking at one point. Still there were too many of them for one fighter, he would have surely been overwhelmed without the help of myself, a dwarven cleric that came out of nowhere and some others that turned up at the end of the battle.I pretty much ran off after the battle muttering some thanks to our saviors as I left. I didn’t actually get a decent look at the boy after all that I now realize.It’s doesn’t really matter I guess. Fighting without the promise of pay isn’t really my style, searching for the elves alone just seems too large of a risk. Perhaps our work will lead us to them tomorrow.

DM log-- The Stirge Cave

{Note to all: try not to put a colon in the titles of adventure logs, a practice I started— as I discovered, it makes it impossible to create an easy wiki link to the page.}

This was a flashback episode {because Rachael and Callum were here early}.

This was about five years before the current campaign, when Theren was a teenager.

Theren was out looking for adventure when Zepher, passing through with his caravan of performers, saw him from a distance. Intuiting the teen was headed for trouble, Zepher followed Theren into a cave, and down into a still pool of cold, waist-deep water filling a huge cavern.

In the pool was an island which Theren investigated. There he found a corpse (nicknamed Bony), killed by something that Zepher later realised were stirges. Bony was wearing an expensive gold chain with a Dark Leaf on it.

Theren hid from Zepher, fearing the wizard would steal the treasure. Zepher was more concerned with the sound of flapping and the approach of stirges. After killing one of them, Jorn came down the rope, having been following the other two adventurers protectively. All three of them fought an increasing stream of stirges, nearly overwhelmed before the others who soon would form the party five years later— Kat Rosie, Amos, and Peque— came to the rescue.

And that’s how they all met!

Crumbling City of Corruption
Theren's Log

I am finally getting up to date with my journal. Yawn and Zephyr are still arguing about Vilma in the background… you would think they might tire of it after so long but they do not. I think that Zephyr is more more easily slighted than most wizards, but then he must be more powerful as well, for I hear the two go hand in hand. In any case, allow me to continue my history.

We left the hut in-tact. I wished to burn Vilma’s supplies in case she came after us seeking vengeance (for then she would have no more magic herbs to aid her) but the others feared to do so, or were too lazy. In either case we left her with her full arsenal of provisions. Moosook and his goblin band had left quite a distinct trail. It was easy to follow in the light of day (although of course I would have had no trouble at night, but I fear the others may not have been able to keep up). While following it, we quickly realised that it lead not to Daggerburg Keep as we had suspected, but to a cavernous city; catacomb to an ancient history that has died in the memories of those less studious than myself. It lead to the mysterious Twisting Halls.

Both Kat and I had studied these, even as youths, for elves are expected to be wise and knowledgable in all things. I will recount here the long lost refrain referring to the Twisting Halls that can be found in a larger ballad called ‘Metamorphosis’ in which Lucius accidentally uses magic to turn himself into an ass, and goes on many and various adventures. 

and thus he came to gaze upon,
the Twisting Halls, their glory gone.
The worship of the minotaurs,
that once had graced the sacred halls,
had turned the holy temple sour,
with their lusting after power.
They worshipped then the demon prince,
and were by Gods forsaken since.

Where once fair Pelor‘s light had shone,
darkness ruled, and light was gone,
Bahamut’s power was forsook,
and so his power back he took,
Spurned they, civility, invention, law,
so Erathis graced the halls no more,
When debts to Moradin went unpaid,
their crafted works all broke and frayed.

Abandoned by these Gods benign
and bereft of qualities divine,
they fell back on Baphomet,
who kept them neither clothed nor fed.
Cursed they in their ancient tongue,
deeds that cannot be undone,
For ’twas too late for turning back,
their souls already painted black,
and greed for power, fame and might,
upon their temple was a blight;
A curse forever upon them all,
to haunt that place, the Twisting Halls

and like all scholarly books of worth there were many interesting illustrations showing hoards of goblins and other bogies taking over the Twisting Halls. It was no surprise then when we walked in and encountered two goblins. What was more surprising was the fine black horse tethered to the far wall, by a door with mysterious runes. Immediately I recognised the horse for a prisoner, and knew that it would be my duty to free it from it’s masters. It was quite clearly Concorde, steed for the famous Dennis Moore. I extracted a promise from Swiftblade that he would not harm the horse, because he expressed fear of it (I know not why – perhaps He has never encountered a horse before?).

Kat and Yawn took on the first while Zephyr and Swiftblade worked on the second. They were too late, however, to prevent one of the goblins from flinging open a nearby door to reveal what looked like a carnivorous lizard. It was then, when we were faced by foes of uncertain power, that Vilma revealed herself once again, attacking Peque as soon as she could. Fearing we might soon be confronted with more foes than we had members of our party, I used my awesome talent to finish off one of the goblins. Taking heed of my good sense, Kat finished off the other. At some time, Vilma created a spell to shield herself from our eyes. It was most vexing! Most of the team had the good sense to finish off the lizard while we had the chance, and so myself, Kat, Yawn and Peque turned our will to it. While we were busy Zephyr chased after Vilma, most unwisely seeking vengeance. If he is not careful I fear his temperament may find him an untimely death, despite all of his power.

As my attention was divided, I did not see the attack coming until too late. I honestly believe the drake must have been very powerful to slip through my defence, as not many can do such a thing. In any case, it got a tight hold of my leg and it must have done quite a lot of damage, because I could feel the blood pooling in my boot, and pain made it difficult to stand.

After that the rest of the fight was quite hazy. I recall that we finished the fight but that Vilma escaped by virtue of her spell. Feeling a little distant, I gathered my resolve and steeled myself against the pain. It was a wound that would have killed a lesser man, or left him crippled for life, but I am stronger than most, and more resilient. While skulking through the now abandoned rooms with the vague hopes of finding Vilma, Swiftblade and Zephyr calmed Concorde. I must admit that I could have done it better myself, but thought that allowing Swiftblade the honour, I might diminish his fear of our new team mate.

There was a shriek of pain and the smell of charred flesh, as Vilma made her presence know once again. She had tipped a brazier on Zephyr and he lay prone on the ground. I feared him dead. We hurried to his aid. I hid myself in the hopes of approaching Vilma unseen, while Yawn healed Zephyr. almost no sooner than he was healed Zephyr once again launched himself at Vilma. Although she was struck a blow, she was able to once again tip the brazier over our mage. Once again he was taken down and lay prone as if dead. By now well versed in reviving the Mage, Yawn brought Zephyr back from the brink. One would think Zephyr might have learned his lesson the first time, but I suppose I cannot credit him with my own levels of intelligence. Swiftblade requested of me that I try to intimidate Vilma into submission, and although I feared the attempt to be futile I tried my best. She was beyond reasoning, either by hook or crook, sent insane by the overwhelming odds she faced. Instead, the group ended up knocking her out and tying her up for interrogation.

I have now caught up with current events somewhat. We questioned Vilma, and she revealed a number of things about the Twisting Halls. We discovered from our interrogation that Vilma fears and is wary of Farallax, who guards the mysterious door, locked with runes. We discovered that the way to unlock Vilma’s Cellar was a pendant that she wore around her neck. I took the opportunity to procure the pendant for myself… to hold onto for the rest of the team of course. She told us also that she hails from the Bushburner Clan, and that the Twisting Halls was a place of refuge to small clans such as the Bushburners. Although she was able to warn us of the contents of the next few rooms, she did not have the authority to pass by Farallax, and so we will proceed with little knowledge of where we are going or what we will face.

Last but not least is a note on Peque. Our noble Dragonborn has left the party. We knew that he would have to leave, but I had not imagined it would be this soon. I feel as though I have lost the one party member I could trust absolutely, or at least the only one who would listen to me talk.

Bumbling Burglary
Theren's Log

This will be a short entry, as it is something of a side-note. I would not make such a large point of it except that I feel I have learned more about the true demeanour of my team mates and it should be preserved for posterity, when I am world renowned for my wisdom and battle prowess.

We returned to Vilma’s hut, hoping to scavenge a few items of interest in recompense for the difficulties she put our group through. As before, Yawn went in first. He is the most expendable of the group, after all. Well it didn’t seem that there was immediate danger, but Zephyr and Swiftblade remained cautious. At times I despair that they are over-cautious, but I know that in time they will come to realise that I will keep them safe from danger if need be, after all I am an elven fighter. Hopefully their fighting spirit will become stronger the longer they journey with me – I have heard that a courageous soul rubs off on those around it, after all.

In any case eventually we all entered the hut. There were a number of odd items in there such as piles of coins, and creepy dead animals. I disposed of the animals promptly, because it was obvious they were malevolently spelled. The others complained because the dead animals raised a stench when I put them in the fire, but I think this was just proof that hey had some sort of magic on them. We moved the coins while searching for important items in the house. Peque and I divided them equally, but the others did not want a share as they were afraid to touch the silvers. After we took the coins Peque recalled that there was indeed an old tale about cursed coins, but he laid in them no credit. I already knew this, because I trust my awesome intuition, but that did not stop the others from whispering fearfully of ‘Vilma’s Curse’.

Yawn and Zephyr keep chattering in the background and distracting me from my writing. It is extremely irritating, but they won’t give me any peace. Honestly have they no consideration what-so-ever? If any of my writing is less than perfect it is because of them. Anyway, at the hut Yawn made a tea and poisoned two others with it – I could hear them outside retching, and yet they still insist on trusting him! Still I think not even the dwarf would be stupid enough to drink his own poison so it must have been a flaw in his knowledge, which is not a good sign in a healer in any case. Remind me never to drink any of his tonics or remedies.

We also discovered Vilma’s Cellar and some nails of sealing (which I allowed the mage to take). There were few useful herbs in the cupboards and jars but we took them all anyway. We plundered the scroll that we spied on our earlier visit as well, discovering (after much pussy-footing about that I restrained myself from interrupting) that Vilma has been exploring the possibilities of a grove of some sort. I wasn’t that interested, so while the others talked Swiftblade and I left a parting shot in the form of a taunting letter to replace the stolen scroll, should Vilma come back to her house.

Those of a faint heart slept outside the hut, but come morning everyone felt refreshed and ready. We decided to follow Moosook despite the fact that he seemed headed in a different direction to Daggerburg Keep (our ultimate destination).

Angry Amphibians Attack!
Theren's Log

It has been quite some time since my last entry, or at least it feels like it has been quite some time to me, because a lot has happened. For this reason I will segment my next log posts into parts.

First of all let me clarify that I am no longer under the effects of Vilma’s tea, and that although the previous entry may seem insane, I honestly believe that I achieved a great enlightenment through Vilma’s tea, and that my writings are not deluded prattle, but brilliant and elusive pearls of wisdom shrouded in a secret code of some sort, for in my wisdom I wouldn’t have wanted Yawn to be able to read them. Now I just need to decipher what I was thinking at the time… In any case I shall carry on with my tale while I think, as I am writing in haste while the party has a brief respite. They argue over what they will do with Vilma (we have her captured, but I will talk about that when I get to it).

Going back to events that happened yesterday: At the end of our unfortunate journey (and shortly after Jorn slapped us all in the face with a small piece of damp rag) we came across a swamp. I knew immediately that the others would have difficulty moving through it, but more importantly that it seemed to be infested with what looked to be thorny frogs and the like. A few others claimed the frogs to be bushes, but my great intellect picked them out for the amphibian scum they were. My team mates urged caution, but fearing that they would blunder into a frog and stupidly become trapped in the mud and separated from one another, I shot an arrow at the nearest frog to provoke it.

Almost immediately the frogs discarded their pretence and came at us, ready to attack. The others blamed me for this apparently ‘uncalled-for’ aggression and I will bear it because I know they will never understand the necessity of my actions. The frogs used their barbed tongues to suck both myself and Kat into the thick swamp mud. It was colder than I expected and instantly oozed into every crack and crevice in my armour. I have heard that some fine women seek pools of mud such as this to bathe in, claiming it heals their skin, but I cannot imagine that this foul smelling muck did me any good. I managed to scramble out but Kat was not quite as lucky! I did not see her go under the mud but when I returned to dry land she was nowhere to be found. There was little time to find her as the frogs pressed their advantage.

Thankfully Yawn did what he is supposed to do and healed Kat, showing deference to the fairer race (as should be natural to him). Our elf was back on her feet, and Swiftblade had recovered his wits enough to leap into the mud and assist her. Peque seemed to have been brewing up a potent magical spell (I had not even realized my trustworthy dragon companion had the touch of magic!) and unleashed it on one of the hapless frogs. Unearthly light sprang from the ground with this attack, causing those of lesser courage than I to quiver in their mud-filled boots. Unfortunately it also prompted Vilma to leap out of hiding. Of course I knew she was there, because I am ever vigilant and in tune with my surroundings, but while she was in hiding she was at least not attacking.

Vilma seemed to command the frogs, directing them to attack certain individuals in our group. She used spells to blind the mage, and imobalise Kat, and for a time, even I wondered if we would get through the battle unscathed. The one thing to our advantage was that Vilma seemed curiously afraid of Peque’s magic. She must be a superstitious fool, but there is some wisdom in her anxiety – I would not want to make an enemy of Peque either! Peque may not talk much, but he knows which way round to hold his spell book, I can tell you! Although everyone fought well (with the exception of Yawn) Peque was the one who won the battle. He hissed and rattled off a curse at one of the frogs that sounded like he was gargling acid, before attacking and killing it on his own. This put the fright in Vilma, and she turned and fled, claiming that she had flowers to pick until next season.

After the battle was over, and with Vilma having run away, the frogs did not bother us. Swiftblade rummaged about in their nest and discovered a magic circlet, which he wisely gifted to Kat. We believe it may be of great use to her in future battles. With Vilma theoretically out of the picture, and night drawing closer still, we decided to leave the cursed swamp and return to Vilma’s hut. It was cosy enough and we thought it might offer a good night’s rest. I will end this entry here.

Oh, as a last note and in regards to Moosook – we did not find him. The trail was too confused after our battle, and a number of his snipers had been eaten by the frogs before we got there.

DM log: Twisting Halls-- Roasting Vilma

As usual, some rough notes to help those making far better log entries. I’ll not write down details that might be important; that’s your job. ;) But I will at least establish the spelling and wiki pages for new things to fill in.

Continuing in the first room of the Twisting Halls: the party looked for the vanished Vilma but could not find her. They explored the rest of the room, Amos soon settling the horse Concorde after Zepher’s initially frightening attempts.

Zepher went to the room into which Vilma had run, still filled with her Vexing Cloud spell. As he came close to an especially hot and red-looking brazier, it tilted toward him as Vilma’s cackle filled the air. He was hit by a burst of flame, and fell in a smoking heap, dying. A standoff ensued with the rest of the party but (with a revived Zepher) they knocked her out.

Upon reviving and questioning her, they discovered a few things:

  • She is from the Bushburner Clan
  • There is a “boss” of some sort in the back, who Moosook is visiting
  • This place is where different goblin clans cohabit, as a defensive position
  • In the next room is Farallax who won’t let her and other unprivileged goblins past
  • The door in this room with the ring of 14 sigils can’t be opened by her, and Farallax would “freeze her solid” if she tried to fool with it. See more at the page Sigil Door.
  • She determined that Jorn is of Good alignment, a Pelor worshipper, and therefore is bound not to kill her while she is helpless— something others in the party disagrees with…

More was uncovered, but that’s all I will reveal here…

Elven Writings: We found the Twisting Halls

Entry Three

I was grateful for the full night rest as trouble was not far off as we ventured further the next day. I have been pondering the things we discovered in Vilma’s Hut and am looking forward to investigating her cellar and the Grove when we have more time. I am sure that doorway will lead to some place of magic and power.

As we followed the goblins trail, (I must note here that they make no attempt to cover their tracks a dull mob these ones), we came across the most amazing sight. It was almost impossible to recognize at first as the place is so filthy and overgrown by the swampland surrounding it, but we had found the legendary Twisting Halls of the Minotaur’s. So many times as a child, I had dreamed of finding this temple and cleansing it of the evil demon prince that caused its demise. My friends and I have studied every piece of historical evidence about the place and so too had Theren, between the two of us we were able to set out a very clear description of the task ahead of us.

(Maybe there is a trace of elvan blood in Theren after all.)

We decided to take the true warriors approach and burst in through the front door. Inside we found a large chamber with a couple of goblins guards and a black horse tethered to a watering trough. We managed to scare the hell out of the two goblins guards and almost had them eliminated when that vile Vilma turned up again. Just appeared out of nowhere and caused a real ruckus she did. Blinded poor Peque with her horrible hexing I thought it most interesting that she saw Peque as the most dangerous of our group and struck him first. Perhaps we should do some research into her fear of the Dragonborn.

I must say that I was quite impressed with Amos who took it upon himself to charge right in for the kill, which I am sure he would have accomplished if that contemptible hexer had not used her magic to weaken his blades. Jorn was tackling a strange reptilian creature that he had discovered behind a door that our terrified goblins were attempting to flee through. Zepher cast a great chilling spell to slow them down then Theren and I made short shift of their plan and ended their run for escape. Zepher and Peque charged in to aid Amos but then Vilma managed to create a wall of Vexing Cloud to hide herself away from Amos’s hungry blades.

Now we are here; in the first hall of the mighty Minotaur temple, waiting for vile Vilma to make her next move.

Elven Writings: Frogs and Stinging Hexs

Entry Two

Frogs good grief who would have thought that frogs could be so bothersome really… I must admit though my newfound friends are not only brave but also very resourceful. They did manage to keep together and fend off those dreadful frogs whilst I extracted myself from the mud and then retribution was mine. I called upon Kord for his mighty strength, No frog was going to get the better of me. One Valiant Smite and his slimy little tongue was no more. It was not long before another met a foul end facing our brave adventurers. Then that wretch Vilma blinded Zepher and cast a stinging Hex on me and my whole head was buzzing like I got it stuck in a beehive. Fortunately Jorn was quick to shine his light on the problem and step in to heal us. While Peque let her have it with a ball of fire he calls Hellish Rebuke (and I can see why). You should have heard that foul witch squeal, ran off like a rat being chased by a feral cat she did. The rest of the frogs ran off as well and there we were standing covered in mud and slime, on an island in the middle of a swamp… Daddy would be proud lol…

I must say I was most surprised that Theren and Peque managed to stay away from the treasure until the battle was done, (they do seem to have a nose for trouble those two), and even then it was the Ranger Amos who reminded us of the possibility of treasure being in the frogs nest. The treasure looked quite simple at first a few copper coins and knick knacks but then Amos found something most wonderful. A real thing of beauty (which looks elvan made to me) a beautiful circlet of silver and gemstones. It was a Circlet of Second Chances. I have read about them and was quite excited when I saw what it was. To my shock the group decided that I should receive this item of power to help defend myself and them. I was so excited I had to put it on straight away. I felt most privileged…

Don’t tell anyone but I do believe that Theren may have a soft spot for the young and defenceless and was making sure that no eggs were harmed in our search for treasure. This became even more obvious when we came across the horse. Poor thing tied up inside a goblin hovel, the minute he laid eyes on it Theren had it named and claimed. Wait I digress I am getting ahead of myself here.

After our mighty battle with those pesky frogs we went straight after that ugly witch. We walked right up to her house and sought her out. However the wily wretch was not home; so we made ourselves at home. (Note to self; was that a wicked grin) Theren, Jorn and Peque even slept there for the whole night. The others and I were less trusting and we set up a camp at a safe distance to keep an eye out for Vilma. Besides Jorn made us a delightful healing tea, which almost poisoned those of us silly enough to drink it. One should never drink a tea made by Jorn, or at least not one made in Vilmas hut. So I was glad for some fresh air, I prefer to sleep close to the trees anyway and found it most peaceful after such a hectic day of battle.  


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