01/17/746 A.E.
The smell of salt air and the dampness of the cavern were ubiquitous, which was not surprising since they were at least 50 feet below sea level. In fact, if anything, the only surprise was the place wasn't underwater entirely. Still, this was clearly not the case and likely to remain that way, so leaving the heavily enchanted wooden door behind, the party proceeded to move farther into the dank Underdark.
As they grew in sophistication and power, the Continual Lights they owned and used were becoming almost commonplace. Excellent illumination was now the order of the day for any who could cast that spell or cough up 100 to 300 GP necessary to purchase the mage or clerical versions. Quite frankly, they were too handy not to employ at this point since the darkness before them seemed to have such an oppressive quality to it such that ordinary torchlight or lamplight seemed deadened, or at least less than enthusiastic about lighting the way. Even the magical radii were cut back a bit, where perhaps only 50 feet could be seen instead of the usual 60 feet, but as most cavern walls were closer than that, this fact wasn't particularly obvious.
"Everyone stay together . . . ," ordered the priest of Zeus. Jarmain wasn't exactly the leader (no one really was), but he had a way of being obeyed when he gave such commands, and the authority of the ruling god Zeus seemed present when he spoke thus. "Is there someone more prepared to fight or reveal traps that would like to take point?" asked Lytha, her own concerns at her lack of such skills now painfully apparent to her. Often one never knows what skills would be useful to acquire until it's too late. She didn't even know how to swim, for example. Gillmesh takes point (with Bell close enough behind him such she might spot any obvious traps). Soon, they come to an intersection and are presented with three possible new avenues, keeping the old, forth one of retreat an ever-viable option.
They look around, but no appreciable air currents exist, and ultimately they decide one direction is as good as another, at least for now, and randomly choose to head right (easterly, he figures). The passage slopes down and then narrows where he spies an odd glint of reflected light. Something shiny is lying on the ground up ahead. Carefully approaching and inspecting everything, he eventually kneels before it and discovers it to be a bar of amber colored metal; he moves it, and then he picks it up. 4" x 5" x ~6.5", the darn thing weighs 50 pounds. They see it is dented, as if hit quite hard. Concluding it's an electrum bar (bearing the markings: 50 E, AE), and probably worth about 1,000 GP, they surmised E stands for electrum, and AE for Alodarian Empire, but this reveals the fact the bar has probably been here not from times of antiquity, but only more recently came to rest here. (Truth is, such bars have been cast for nearly 700 years, but they don't know that yet, though it hasn't been here more than 100 years anyway). Gill then notices something large and lumpy up ahead. He moves towards it when something leaps off the wall and digs into his back!!!
S1: Whatever it is, it burrows into the warrior's back and starts to suck the very blood out of him. About 12" in diameter, mostly flat, and the color of the rocky walls, it was well hidden before it sprang. He feels the life force leaving his body (takes damage from blood loss).
NOTE: I begin now to adopt a new policy here. The detailed write up of combat is too tedious and time consuming to continue. Though fun to play, the blow-by-blow will less and less be written, and, where appropriate, a more descriptive write up will be given. Creatures will be sparsely described, if non-standard and I feel like it, but only if actual combat ensued and it's unlikely the party will face them again at some future time.
Shadow Suckers: 3 HD, -5 to enemy surprise roll, they cling to walls and leap upon victims passing within 20 feet, attaching themselves and drawing energy at 1d8/round. No casting is possible while under this pain. Physical hits are automatic against them while attached, but this inflicts equal damage to the victim. They otherwise have AC 5, 3 HD, THAC0 17, about 12 to 15 HPs, and are not INT (0). They are gray in color and can fly, though not hover. If they draw enough blood (20 HPs), they will flee, but not before. A character may attack at the end of the round if they wish, but this will mean the creature will get to draw 1d8 of blood first. Waiting will, however, mean the PC will only inflict half the damage to themselves that they inflict upon the creature.
Gill slams his own back against the wall, hurting both it and himself in the process, but it doesn't relent and the sucker continues to draw blood. Others of its ilk begin to fly about like Frisbees and a mad scramble begins. The suckers attach themselves to various characters when they can, and all party members work together in a frenzy to save those close to death, first curing those who continue to be effective, and second, just trying to survive. The suckers are not undead, nor are they particularly evil. When party members fall to blood loss, it's a real challenge to save them as the creatures cannot be hit without causing damage to their friends and such damage may kill one who is already unconscious. Magic Missiles are particularly effective here as this does not hurt the sucker's victim at all. Cause Wounds is similarly effective. Cure Wounds is frequently cast to stave off death. The frenzy continues for 7 rounds, so it was a pretty good fight. Through teamwork and intelligence, everybody managed to avoid death, if not always unconsciousness.
The party members slump to the floor after everyone's life is out of immediate peril. Breathing hard, they cool down and no one really does much of anything for 30 minutes but listen to one another's breathing. It becomes apparent there are more electrum bars scattered around, and that large lump was the remains of a Hill Giant (mostly mummified, he's been here for decades). He carried a bag with those amber colored metal bars in it. Guessing correctly, they figure a giant with such strength could afford to carry such wealth, heavy as it was, and in desperation, may have been throwing them (pretty effective missiles when propelled with sufficient force) at the suckers. One could always pick them up after combat, if they survived. Alas, the giant fared not as well as the most recent group to cross this way.
A respected enemy of Zeus in times past, perhaps, Jarmain offers a prayer over the fallen giant. They gather 5 electrum bricks in total, and though most of the giant's possessions were well rotten with time, a greatsword bore time well and looked in excellent condition. The test of time in such an environment without a trace of rust often spoke of magic. Passing around the 50-pound electrum bricks, they distribute the weight as best they can and proceed onward, only to find the right passage eventually led to a dead end. They return to the intersection. Not feeling they are in a rush, they decide to return to the surface for healing and prayer.
Emerging from the Underdark, the pious amongst them (high enough WIS and of good alignment) feel the contentment the Isle of Esterark imparts upon such visitors. Not all feel this, naturally, but enough do feel it, and the feeling is welcome, for below, the same characters have a feeling of foreboding in such an awful place. It is a minor effect, however, either way, and can be ignored. They rest and spend the night in their magic tent where the electrum bars find their way into some of the extra dimensional pockets (1 cubic foot each, there are 8 of them, and each may hold perhaps 50 lbs., so 5 bars fill five of these). The night passes. Remarkably, they later find, this extra weight stored in the magic tent in those dimensional pockets do not add to the overall weight of the folded up tent. Incredible. This tent was perhaps one of the most fantastic pieces of magic they had even found, and they had, almost, just found it. Its former owner, a powerful wizard, had been killed long ago, so it was just there for the taking, but they did find it, and they did take it, and now it continued to lighten their burden most everywhere they went. They might all faint if they ever had it appraised or stopped to consider what it might be worth.
01/18/746 A.E.
After a good breakfast, they return to the intersection and proceed to the left (westerly). They are confronted with a fungus-covered floor. Lytha covers her face with a silk hanky, not wishing to breath any spores they might kick up. Not able to identify it, Cyris takes the initiative and uses Burning Hands to set it aflame. It quickly burns away like wild fire, a miniature forest set ablaze, leaving blackened remains upon a now sooty floor. Only patches and breaks here and there prevent its total destruction, but they avoid the remaining patches. Some larger puffballs, though their outer surface was burned, probably contain undamaged fungus within, but they leave it alone.
Bell presses forward until the tunnel leads to a room filled with more fungus. There are two very large lumps of it in the center of the room. Pleased with Cyris' results, she similarly sets the fungus ablaze. Unfortunately, the heat is more confined in the room and the enclosure quickly reaches flash point temperature, practically exploding in flames. She sees this and tried to jump back, but the burst of flames catches her and she is burned. Luckily, she is not too badly burned. A torrent from a Create Water spells splashes about the place, killing the fire a few seconds earlier than it would have otherwise died due to lack of fuel, but it seems to please the monk, Aarkon, who cast it.
In the aftermath of the fire and down pour, they discover the two large lumps were the remains of two fallen dwarves (one a cleric, the other a warrior). Lytha feels certain they are the dwarven comrades of Jamil, who fell here 67 years earlier. A prayer is offered on their behalf, but they are left where they lay, the Underdark a suitable resting place for any dwarf. They do, however, rescue their equipment.
NOTE: Unless more properly buried, and deliberately so with some items, it is both expected and proper to divest the fallen (when you find them in the field) of any valuables. One might try to find the families of the victims, or one might not, but usually it is not expected if a fair amount of time has already passed. Adventurers, in general, fully expect their possessions to be so acquired by others should their whole party some day fall in the field, and therefore no ill thoughts of grave robbing or theft are typically associated with such actions. It is expected, and it is considered part of their profession.
Both the chainmail and the platemail appear magical. These are taken. Similarly, an axe, a dagger, and 3 rubies are acquired. Finally, 3 potions are collected. A symbol of Moradin, the Soul Forger, a Dwarven God, is discovered, but that's typical of dwarves.
Some begin to grumble again about Bell's sometimes too fast paced actions that tend to bite her in the ass, if not others, as well, and she leaves the group behind while they argue about her, not wishing to hear their chiding remarks. She returns to the intersection and notes the shadows seem odd. Investigating, there seems to be some quality of life to these shadows, and it soon even approaches her.
Lytha, wishing to talk to Bell and perhaps sooth her following some harsh words from the others, soon follows and finds Bell engaged with the shadowy mass. Bell has just cast Magic Missiles and they appear to have had no affect (pretty unusual for such a spell, it speaks of power and danger). Hearing the beginnings of battle, the others quickly charge to the intersection (only 40 feet away really) and find Bell retreating from a growing shadow, its menacing movements obvious.
Cyris throws a Continual Light rock at the shadow, briefly revealing a shadowy troll-like figure that seems annoyed at the light. The light is quickly snuffed out, however, and the shadows close around the figure again. Seeing this, Lytha cast her own light upon her holy symbol of Corellon. Jarmain cast a similar spell directly on the shadow. This hurts it, so it seems, but again the light is snuffed out despite its would-be continual nature. Aarkon's Magic Stones appear to have no affect. Other things are tried but continue to have no affect, and the shadowy troll-like figure is practically upon them, none of their power really having slowed its progress.
Lythaura plants her feet and calls upon the power of Corellon. "Back to where you belong, evil creature!" she commands.
NOTE:(Sometimes dice talk when you really don't expect them to, but she rolled a 20, so what am I gonna do?)
Having felt the power of Corellon before, the Shadow Troll thought better of proceeding with their deaths at this time, so it thought, though in truth it was afraid, and quickly as it came, if not quicker, it retreated faster than any could follow. The party was left in its wake. Any Continual Light objects or spells that intersected with the darkness were permanently drained of their magic. At least the awful creature was gone, for now. The luck of the gods was with them.
"That was very good, but I'm not sure how long that will keep it at bay," commented Cyris, for he knew, quite correctly, such measures were often temporary and would quickly fade when, in the absence of god's light, such undead creatures discovered they were not truly injured and once again found their missing courage (or whatever it is that drives such unliving abominations).
Suggestions of leaving are made, but it is quickly pointed out that they haven't achieved their goals, nebulous as they may be.
Lytha finally asks to clarify some issues and have a clearer picture and exactly what it was they were doing here. "To solve the mystery of Ekibar," Aarkon points to Gill's sword in the way of a response. This seems to satisfy her, for now. They decide to press onwards.
The tunnel here is steep, and the stone stairs cut into the rock obviously are in disuse such that the moss is now thick on them and they are quite treacherous to negotiate. The party eventually reaches the bottom (of this stairway, but who knows how deep this place goes?). There was none of the typical sprawling, laid out, dungeon stuff down here; it was just miles and miles of natural tunnels that lay before them. Most of it looked natural enough, anyway, to any spelunkers in the party. This was, by the way, not a trait many elves possessed, and Lytha was no exception, the feeling of foreboding and the unnatural quality of being in the Underdark beginning to get on her elven nerves.
"Well, elves certainly wouldn't build anything this far below the ground," Lytha mentioned. "Did someone say this sank once upon a time?" An affirmative response came from behind her, but she knew not where exactly since she was still learning their voices.
The party's progress is next halted by a little lake. On the far wall they see a partially submerged archway, though it is a natural archway. Swimmers could get through and find out what lay beyond. The water is fresh, however, and this seems amiss, as it shouldn't be fresh water, but salt water. Lytha confesses she can't swim. A lot of the others confess to a similar failing. Bell also cannot swim, but she knows the Fly spell, or in this case her recently acquired Fly potion, is supposed to temporarily confer this ability. She decides to try it and mixes some of her powder with water and then drinks it. It works; she feels the ability to fly and/or swim come to her and she begins to test her "water wings."
Eventually trying it, they discover the lake to be only neck deep, tops, though the shorter amongst them need to be held up by their taller brethren. A quick submerging later and they breech the gap and make it to the other chamber, where they leave the other half of the lake and find the opposite shore. Bell flies around and has fun with her new ability, yet she feels certain it will pass in 4 hours or so.
NOTE: Cyris feels Bell will eventually fall when the duration of the fly runs out. Unbeknownst to him, however, in the past several decades since he was in stasis upon the Para-Elemental Plane of Ice, an improvement has been made to the Fly spell such that when its duration finally gives out, it converts to a Featherfall spell of sorts, taking the mage safely to the ground below. Of course, there was a price, and such spells from past times were a bit longer in duration than contemporary versions. On the whole, the safer version was so widely employed now, the older versions were practically never seen anymore.
Looking to their equipment (especially spellbooks), they all make sure everything is adequately dry.
NOTE: Spellbook pages are god awfully expensive, part of the reason being they are treated such that they are resistant to moisture. This doesn't mean you can freely dunk them in water, but a short stint should be ok if the water is quickly drained away and the pages are dried out. The treatment just prevents crinkling and warping and the running of ink, etc. - you know, all the usual things that happen to normal paper and ink.
On the opposite shore they discover several tunnels leading away. All but one are thick with animal tracks, so apparently the lake is their source of water. The one tunnel that is free of tracks, however, appears to have a strong breeze coming through it. Feeling they could rest again, they decide here might be unwise as animals would likely show up soon whenever thirst called them.
There is an ugly little confrontation with Bell again when Cyris, in particular, and Gillmesh as well, try to curtail her free movements and her flitting about without what they consider to be the proper care. It almost comes to blows, in fact, but calmer feelings somehow prevail and no actual attacks are made (at least, none that connected). Bad feeling remains, however, and Bell proceeds to hover about the lake. "This is ridiculous; how have you people stayed alive this long? You are fighting amongst yourselves," Lytha criticized them all, now having reason to doubt her inclusion is this group. Cyris summons a swarm of bats and actually commands it to attack Bell, finally drawing first blood. Isabelle dives under the water to escape further attack. "Bah! Stupid woman; I thought she would have learned after falling into the pit!" chided Cyris, the figurative blood on his own hands apparently less than obvious to the mage himself.
Lytha looks distressed and tried to put a stop to it all. "I think you flunked today's lesson; both of you. Now stop it this instant. Who knows what creatures await just down those tunnels? We mustn't do this here, if we do it at all." Perhaps feeling shamed by an "outsider," they all lighten up a little at Lytha's scolding. Things calm down and no more attacks are made. Eventually, they decide to move off the beach and away from the watering hole. Following the breezy tunnel, it being free of animal tracks, they move off the beach.
The breeze gets stronger as they continue down the tunnel where they see a light up ahead. Entering a chamber, they find it to be the remains of some temple, the ruins scattered all over. Two fallen pillars appear to have had Continual Lights cast on them, and though fallen, they continue to dimly illuminate the room. Finding a few runes on the ruins, they guess the place must have been associated with the power of air or wind, though no particular god can be discerned. Air, sky, basic runes along those lines, but no one deity has their mark here.
Inspecting the back wall, Jarmain finds the source of the air. Flat against the stonework, there is an invisible Nexal Gate, which, he believes, opens into the Elemental Plane of Air. The breeze is coming from there, almost as if from out of the stonewall itself, but the gate is the true source. He speculates as to whether he could get back should he venture into the gate, but comes to no conclusion before something happens. The shadow troll returns.
A consuming darkness begins to swallow their light, so to speak, their illumination spells losing some of their brilliance as it approaches. Still not having had time to rest, they steel themselves and make ready as they are. This time, however, the shadow, already closer than before, does not approach any further. Without exception, though each party member had opportunity to attack, not one launched an attack.
" . . . but stay thy hand 'gainst those so dark," perhaps? Or just caution? Even the DM never really knew, but their hands were stayed, and this did suffice.
"You hold Ekibar," comes a hollow voice from the darkness. "We are undertaking Ekibar's quest," replied Jarmain. "Aye, Ah hold Ekibar," announces Gillmesh with some trepidation.
"Yes, the dwarven sword, Ekibar. I will not slay thee," said the voice, "But what of these others? Are they sacrifices?" Gill looked at Bell, and who knows what he thought at that time, but eventually he said, "Neah, they are me companions."
The darkness wavered and lightened a bit, and the shadow troll finally could be seen within as the cloak of shadows fell away. "Then why are you here, lord?" Gill considered his response. "To complete Ekibar's quests. Are ye the guardian?" Now the troll thing looked genuinely puzzled. "A guardian? No, no, I wouldn't say that. I do, however, owe a favor to the Lord of Ekibar. Else I would sup upon your bones. So, I stay my wrath, as long as you do not attack me, and further will grant you one boon."
They speak for a while but the undead shadow troll reveals little of import. Each time they get close to real information worthy of acquisition, the troll asks, "Is this the boon you wish, Lord?" They never seem willing to spend their one "boon" on such pursuits, however, and tell him no, though they continue their prodding as best they may and try to glean what they can without expending their single favor.
"Do ye know of the quests of Ekibar?" he asked, Gill showing his sword proudly to the shadowy creature who seemed less than impressed. "I know its Lord was on some mission. I know he obtained power while in the ancient temples of the elements," replied the troll, "Though he was considerably shorter than you, Lord."
The others looked at each other after learning there were temple(s), in the plural. They asked about them. "Oh, there are, or were, four temples in this area. They are all but destroyed," said the troll. "Temples of ancient power to the winds, the fires, the rocks, and the waters." They ask about the Nexus but as the troll claims he knows little, so they feel the correct path must lay elsewhere.
"I seek fer me and me companions to finish the quest of Ekibar, safely." The troll considered Gill's request. "I do not know what that quest is, Lord. I cannot grant that boon. Only what lay within my power, Lord. Do you have a specific request? I do not know about here, though the other Lord, the short one, he had no dealings here in the temple of air demons. He concerned himself with the temple of stone found through the ancient maze of traps."
Gill remembered part of the litany then. "but quest of stone of light of blue," and spoke it out loud. The troll smiled, a rather unnerving sight. "Yes, very well. Rocks, yes, the temple of rocks. He sought power there, the little Lord of Ekibar. The sapphire of power, yes. That is blue and well lit, though he took it with him."
The warrior seemed dismayed. "He took et from Esterark?"
"The Lord of Ekibar did," replied the troll, "though he could only hold its power long as he was alive. I suspect he must be dead after all this time. You know the living? Food perhaps, but like all food, it goes rotten with time."
They all finally conclude they wish the troll to take them through the maze of traps and to the temple of stones for their boon. He agrees and leads them back to the lake, so down under the lake he goes, though in a different direction from whence they came. Gill suggests Bell take the rope and fly through, but she says, "You'd trust me to do that, oh great and mighty warrior?" in a sarcastic manner, not very happy with the way she's been treated lately. Gill is also fed up with her and then refuses to give her the rope, and has Jarmain, despite the greater likelihood of failure, take the rope through the water. Lytha aids him with a Strength spell to make him a stronger swimmer, and Bell does follow in case he needs the help, for she hasn't completely abandoned her responsibilities, despite how she's being treated.
A hard thing, but Jarmain manages to get through without drowning. A strong current is down there (eventually revealed to be a Nexal gate to the Elemental Plane of Water, and he emerges in another chamber after noting a submerged fallen temple, sanctified to water, all laying below the surface of the pool. The others manage to hold their breath and climb hand-over-hand along the rope while being dragged through. Only Lytha almost drowns (low CON, you know), but even she makes it. The troll awaits.
The next few tunnels lead off in many directions. There are bones strewn all over the place. It may have been a crypt at one time. They look elven, though, and elves prefer burial above ground, so it is odd. They call a halt when they learn the temple of stone is still hours away through many twisting tunnels. The troll does not object. Leading them to an open chamber at their request, they find they can set up their tent (though not fully, it can hold 6 people instead of the normal 8 when fully opened to pavilion size). They rest.
Lytha gets sick when she sees the troll sucking on old, dead, elven femur bones while waiting. "Mm, let me know when you wish to move on, Lord. Mmmmm." She unceremoniously departs from her most recent lunch, no longer wishing to keep it, apparently, and puts some distance between herself and the troll, much to the satisfaction of both of them. Jarmain comforts her with an Alleviate orison design to settle ill feelings and queasiness. He also had recently cast Memory to help recall the correct path back out of here. Unfortunately, as a result, he'll never quite forget the sight of Lytha tossing her cookies. Unfortunate indeed.
"Lord?" the troll asks while they rest, "Is he a lackey too, Lord?" he points to Cyris. "He has a power about him. Why is your servant allowed to carry such power?" Gill claims his companions may carry power. "Yes Lord, I know. But I'm confused. Is he your lackey? A subordinate? And if so, why does he carry the power?" Gill answers, "Because I trust em with et." This seems to satisfy the dark troll and he goes back to sucking on bones. Though other party members carry power of sorts, the troll doesn't mention them, and if anything, the troll continues to eye Cyris.
01/19/746 A.E.
Many hours later, after prayer and healing and reacquisition of spells, they move out. Lytha remains behind for a time to gather bones and resanctify the area. She later catches up before they reach their final destination.
The dark, shadowy, undead, troll of Esterark brings them to the beginning of a maze of death, or so he calls it. But as he is guiding them through it, it's a rather uninteresting trip (thank the gods). They finally emerge in yet another trashed temple, this one having been sanctified to the powers of the element of earth. There, upon a dais, shimmers a brilliant blue stone of power. A sapphire, it would appear, and quite a nice jewel too. Gill seemed about to take it when Bell screams at him, "STOP!" Gill probably wouldn't have really picked it up, but it did look like he might. Bell ran over (her Fly potion long expired now), and inspected the dais. After 15 minutes of careful scrutiny, she announces it is trapped and bids they all move out of the chamber. Even the troll thinks this is a good idea and is the first to depart.
Ten minutes later Bell calls out for them to all return. Smiling, she proudly hands Gill the blue stone. Later she describes what appeared to be a magical trap, though what it might have done if not properly disarmed, she is uncertain.
Gill takes the sapphire of power and Ekibar seems to compel him to place the stone upon the hilt, whereupon a depression appears and the stone then magically mounts itself inside the depression. Securely embedded in Ekibar, it sings out mentally (all spell casters and the holder of Ekibar hear this).
"Ornate the carving held by Rile,
Imbued my power of thought and guile,
Let not the feathers of beasts so low,
Keep you from the Ranger's bow;
Not here upon this mortal's plane,
But astral bound to his domain.
Follow spinward as I guide,
And take the power that we did hide;
Time draws near for one more try,
To claim thy throne and speak no lie,
But power 'or Mostoli rule,
Will come when Salter's no longer cruel."
SESSION ENDS
© August of 2000
by
James L.R. Beach
Waterville, MN 56096