After much debate, they purchased the philosopher’s stone from the goblin. Morandir Orc-crusher paid the lions share of the cost, but Randolf of the Redwood gave up his cherished mule, Bill. They then went on and raised Thadius (Thad) from the dead much to Mathneas (Krex)’s delight.
They then went on and made quick work of the Burrows and through careful planning, killed Froithmot and his minions without much ado…or talking for that matter.
I can’t believe it. That damnable spider-creature with a man’s voice returned from the dead. I don’t know how. I haven’t a clue who is responsible. All I know is after amassing a respectable number, my comrades and I headed back to Slag Heap to continue our journey to save the gnomes, and then things got unbelievable.
From nowhere, shortly after sunrise, spiders appeared along our path in the blink of an eye. We had little time to question their sudden appearance. Four of them were the size of men and ahead of us was their leader: Seronius. Dead, yet scittering about on his multiple legs. The stench was nearly enough to make us lose our breakfast.
The fight seemed like it would be much easier than before. After all, this time there were more than twice as many of us. No, it was not an easy match, nor was it even just “moderate.” The creature cast a web nearly upon sight. Fortunately, I was able to dodge the sticky trap. Others weren’t so lucky.
I lost track in the battle exactly what happened. One of the brothers went down. The unrelated fighter did, too. Those who have been traveling with me fared better, but only just. In his new form, the devil spawn spewed a noxious gas, poisoning my companions. Insane with the need for revenge, he overcame nearly all of my spells. Benjamin engaged him directly, but was having his own difficulties with success.
I was beside myself with disbelief that I was again in the position of engaging in close combat. That is not what I trained so hard all those days for. That is not why I lost summers to books. That was the only choice I had left. Risking severe injury, or life itself, I tried my dagger first. His skin was too tough for it to do much good, and the proximity was limiting. I dropped my blade in favor of my staff. That was more comfortable. Just after I landed again what was clearly a injurious blow, Randolph managed the killing strike.
Not content to trust that it was dead, I pummeled it over and over, finally setting the cursed thing’s carcass on fire. Mirandir and Dr. Deet had been otherwise occupied with related dealings and joined the gathering.
Worse things were yet to come. Having made it to Slag Heap, the pixies were missing and the tree was quiet even after offering water in the tradition Dr. Deet started. Sprinkling a couple dozen silver pieces did not attract our fae friends. We ventured forth on the trail of orc tracks.
I cannot describe the horror I felt when I saw the impaled bodies of more of the fair folk than I could keep my eyes on. Hypnotizing two guards, we infiltrated the orc camp. We slaughtered more than two dozen before it was over. Frothmot and his minions were not part of that count.
In the end, we saved a single, torture-crazed gnome, and I found myself on the opposing side of those who I have come to think of as “friends.” It seems now that the slave found a way to hoard many valuables the orcs had stolen. He now thinks of them as his. Ordinarily, it would likely not be much of a concern. But this unlikely fellow managed to confiscate a Philosopher’s Stone, or so it seems. I’m no paladin, but I can’t convince myself taking it is our reward for the deed we’ve just done. Nor can I expect the others to put aside their nature even for the sake of friendship.
Even if I somehow convinced the others to let the gnome loose with the prize, all would not be well. Aside of the rift between us, the fool would likely get himself killed. His insanity keeps his tongue wagging when it should be still. I tried convincing the small one to consider it payment for having been freed with the assurance he’d get to keep his share and what would have been mine. That did not work. Someone then realized we could use it to resurrect the newly dead brother. I heard them talking about it as I walked away. It did not seem to sway the man. I do not know if it is greed, a sense of justice for what he endured, or the madness that keeps him from seeing the danger of possessing the stone.
So I wait, hoping for a better outcome than the ones I fear. And yet there is more work to do. Frothmot must die and his allies, too. I suspect we will be on this journey a long while. For even if we are successful in freeing all of the gnomes and destroying their slaver, his queen still lives and is much more powerful than those of us in our fracturing company.
The group found what was chasing the animals north, it seems that something brought the drider back as some sort of intelligent undead. Intelligent being relative for something insane. They were ambushed by the drider and six very large spiders. They overcame, however, Thadius and Tesner fell to wounds and poisons very early in the conflict. They burned the spiders and the drider body and buried their comrades and moved on to the Slag Heap.
They found that the pixies had vacated the area and soon discovered that a number of them were pinned to the palisade walls of a small fort. Through some clever magic, they snuck into the fort and thought to make quick work the force there. The battle turned out bigger than expected when Erin Leafchaser, Morandir Orc-crusher, and Dr Deet made too much noise sneaking up to the smithy.
Luckily, they were able to make quick work of the orc force holed up in the building. Morandir Orc-crusher’s sonic blasts reverberated through the mountains and the orcs fell in droves. It was almost too easy…
Then they found that the gnome slave mentioned a treasure buried in the latrine, and he mentioned something about a philosopher’s stone. An argument ensued on the proper ownership of the treasure and whether it would be right or wrong. Benjamin and Erin were opposed to taking it, feeling it should stay with the gnome. The rest argued for taking it…
They stand in the courtyard arguing now…
The slight hiatus resulted in a gaff on my part which required a bit of rewriting a tiny bit of history. During the September session, the characters did indeed return to the Slag Heap briefly and clean out the ghouls…
…the rewrite will be that they cleaned them out previously and we started again from Botkinburg.
This time, in their travels they came upon Benjamin investigating some movements of goblins and unusal activity of animal movement south of Dreddstan. There had been rumors of a war band of goblins, orcs, and something big in the area. There were also a noticeable increase in movement of animals heading that seemed to indicate they were fleeing something from the south.
While discussing this, they were attacked by a group of weary eyed red-cap goblins. What they didn’t realize was that the goblin attack was a diversion by a number of orcs and a couple of ogres to soften up the party. It almost worked! Their hired rogues were dispatched by the goblin arrows, and their hired fighter proved incompetent. After a bit, even Erin Leafchaser fell to goblin arrows. Their grumpy dwarf companion, Morandir Orc-crusher, expressed a bout of fear and had to be bolstered by their new friend and ally, the ranger Benjamin.
They overcame the warband and set up camp to heal up. Benjamin did some more scouting and found that the animals were indeed fleeing something and whatever it was, it was headed their way. They were injured enough, they decided to spend a couple of days at their camp before heading out to confront this new threat…whatever could it be?
The group returned to Botkinburg and healed up, met up with an old friend, Morandir Orc-crusher. They informed the authorities that Tirten met his demise in the Slag Heap; Botkinburg will need a new butcher. The met Randolf of Redrock who agreed to join them in their attempt to clean out the Slag Heap.
They found that their previous hires did not find the pay, nor rewards satisfying. They were forced to find some new hirelings with some skills in the art of subtlety. two roguish characters, Bondo and Trifed, agreed to accompany them back to the Slag Heap.
Storing their found treasure in the inn, they set off immediately back. Their travels back, quicker now that they knew the way. They fought off two ogres, a camp of RedCap goblins, and a pack of wolves on their way before camping out.
The question remains, since they left for over two weeks, have the local denizens prepared for their return? Have the discovery of the death of one of the leaders made them more wary.
Today was some day. But let me take you back a little while. After having encountered harpies in an area surrounded by unnaturally thin trees, dealing with gnomes we didn’t trust, running off the harpes, and learning about Seronius, a servant of the witch queen, we thought we’d heard just about enough to make us think the dangers around were too monumental for our amorphus band of, well, whatever exactly we are.
We learned of the queen’s intent to harvest the diamonds of Havenville, an attempt to build her treasury, apparently. Seronius had been making sacrifices to the harpies, whom he bitterly hated, or so one sly gnome told us. He wasn’t right, and neither was Seronius from what the little man said. The witch must have felt the same for she sent someone whose name I’m not sure of – Freethmot, Frithmot, I don’t know – to keep an eye on things. I couldn’t get a fix on exactly how long ago all of this happened. The gnomes have largely been ensorcled for decades. The queen’s dispatching a supervisor was fuzzy.
Not trusting the shifty gnome, my colleague, Beorn, who Dr. Deet and I recently met, tied up the little one, leaving him to free himself long after we left. Soon we discovered those harpies for ourselves. Knowing they would try to captivate us with song, we fashioned cork plugs for our ears and put up enough of a fight that they fled. We were not unscathed. Chancing the gnome had told us the truth, we drank from the fountain nearby. Beorn and I were made well by the thirst-quenching water. Oddly, it did not affect Dr. Deet. Still, he had another idea. Water the twisted willow that was wasting away. It seemed a good idea and so we helped him. Little did we know the fairie Wynofar was somehow linked to the tree. She rewarded us with a blessing. We felt as if we could do anything for some time, yet we realized the lateness of the day and expenditure of our spells left us with little to fight if it came again to that. We slayed one of those wretched creatures. And it took much to do so.
In our doings we amassed a small wealth of treasure. I’m particularly excited about the prospect of the Minor Dark Chaos scroll. If I can master that, I will have yet another weapon in my growing arsenal. But I must first decipher the thing. That might be another matter entirely. I contemplated that parchment for hours after we made our way to a ridge, sheltering for the night outside some old mines.
In the morning, we drank of the fae water again with much the same result. Beorn spotted the gnome he’d left tied pointing the direction that had been. The orc listening seemed most interested. Too bad for him. That was enough to provoke Beorn into action. An arrow later the orc had no more will to live. After that, we realized what we must do. I coaxed the gnomes into revealing exactly what they do to keep from being enslaved themselves. Though, from the looks of them – ragged, dirty, devoid of any cheer – I wasn’t so sure they were much better off than those who had been. Sadly, it turned out that as we suspected, they weren’t of high character after what they’d been through. They lived “free” by reporting those who hide and bringing strangers to Seronius to torture as was his wont.
Not much later, we went in search of the brutes they’d described – Seronius and Frihmont, Freefmot, whatever. Venturing just a short while into the wood where Free, yes, Free, that’s an easier way to think of him, where Free was meant to be, we turned aside. Too many webs for our comfort. It seemed a host of spiders big enough to spin webs throughout the forest had taken up residence there.
We trekked on, making our way to the Black Hole. It was where Seronius was supposed to be. The walls had long ago stopped seeing the light of day or love of caring custodians. Slime-covered, web-filled, and just plain dirty that place was. We found a hidey-hole concealed by a secret door. The woman of the house sat in wait for whatever horrors had made her flee to that inner sanctum. Upright, a skeleton held a crossbow, which had since deteriated, much as the dress the woman wore. A strong box beheld some useful items. We left it for the time.
Armed with the knowledge that at least one of the men we sought was a servant of the Off Stag, the Horned One, we were cautious. The most excited thing we found soon was an orc. He was drunk off the gnomish cider. He’d stolen some spider-silk robes meant to be worn by those seeing the witch queen. He mentioned a general idea of where she was, but as with most drunks, it wasn’t clear exactly what he meant or if he knew what we was talking about at all. He did manage to convey clearly enough that Seronius was no man. He was a creature with a spider body and a man’s face.
Before we could hope to find him, we were swarmed by his children, hundreds of spiders. Killing them and retreating to the healing waters, we rested. Attempting to bring the gnomes around, we talked to them. The fae had been busy mending the place in absence of the harpies. Dr. Deet offered them a necklace and they came back with a bag with healing honey and apples. Miraculously, it refilled when I closed it up. The next day were were off to finish the job.
This time, we were better prepared, putting down the swarms more quickly, with me able to rescue first Dr. Deet, and then Beorn. But then were faced with a single, much larger abomination. Though not Seronius, the thing was horrible. Beorn attempted to go around to the other side to sneak up behind it, but the webbing was too much and Dr. Deet had to cut him free. Having no luck avoiding the thing’s hits, our dwarven butcher fell. We got some good strikes, but it did too, and Dr. Deet crumpled atop Tertin. Our hearts full of fear for our comrades, Beorn and I redoubled our efforts, both striking, for I had no more useful spells and he had snapped his bowstring. We were wearing it down, yet its spirit had not broken, nor, unfortunately, had enough of its…whatever such things are made of. Then the worst happened.
Beorn struck it. I struck it. It struck Beorn. And down. He went down. Not the creature. Beorn. In a moment my world tilted. It could not be. Three of the brave men, capable men, all…they could not be dead. I could not let them die. If I failed, all of our lives will have been lost and nothing would have been gained from it. I summoned all I had left in me. Holding my staff like a warrior, I smashed at the beast. I threw it off balance. It missed me on the return. Again I struck, but missed. Again it went after me, but failed. Again I channelled all I ever knew about wielding the weapon for the melee. That time it could not escape the wood. And then if fell.
At my feet was destruction. No time. I squeezed out some honey given us by the fae of the forest. It seemed to make their paralyzed bodies stop getting worse. Except Tertin. It did him no good. I waited as long as I felt I could. Beorn and Dr. Deet stirred, but no more. I had to do something. In my delirium of sleeplessness, I swear I heard a voice suggest getting the orc. I did. A little bribery, charm, and hypnotism, and he helped me get them back to the gnomish building.
Restored, some time later Beorn practiced his hunting. He’d been almost obsessed with managing it. I’m glad. We exhausted our rations and the spiders the orc offered or the apple from a sock the gnomes held out earlier did nothing to make me want to eat. Yet we needed to. And even fae-touched honey and apples couldn’t satisfy us forever. Beorn’s efforts paid off.
We started handling the wild boar he brought down. It wasn’t huge, but it was enough. He offered some to the fae, making them most happy. In friendship, Beorn offered some to the gnomes, too. Still they seemed to act in a most ungnomish manner. Alas I pressed them to come clean with what their actions hid. I wish that I hadn’t. Or at least that what they hid had not been so gruesome. My stomach turned as one dropped the half-eaten, roasted fae body. Beorn’s voice was lost to me as tears rolled down my face. I picked up the tiny one and carried it to the fae in the woods. I told them of the treachery and the one from whom I’d recovered the body. They went away much dimmed.
We spent the night away from that place. In the morning, we smelled smoke. The fae had their revenge. The building was charred and it was clear they could not escape the place. Ashes. The acrid smell of burnt flesh and ashes were everywhere. I cannot deny I understood what was done and felt justice had been served. We must end the suffering somehow. No more gnomes should be turned in such a way. No more fae should face such horrors. It was time for us to get going.
Fully renewed, this morning we charged into the Black Hole. We made short work out of finding Seronius. We worked together as if we had been long-seasoned warriors fighting all our lives as one. With well-aimed throws of balls containing flames, magical strikes, and mind-distracting spells, Seronius succumbed to death. We took his head and much loot back to the gnome camp. The fae cheered and honored us for having defeated such an enemy.
We are travelling again. We must deposit what we have, tell the town of Tertin’s fate, reconnect with Morandir, and prepare to return to take on Free. And perhaps the witch queen herself.
You found Ludensheim coin on the bodies and decided to send them all back to Botkinburg as further proof of the treachery of Baron Dietbold. You questioned the lone survivor and get some conflicting information, Miles Freland is in league with the Red Caps, and Deertrik was here to pay off the RedCaps to stop their raiding.
You meet up with a new companion by the old mill where you’ve heard that some of Mile’s men are stationed. A big brutish fellow that keeps speaking of the sea. He seems to have been beating on one of Mile’s men. You question the fellow and along with the existing prisoner, the bodies of Deertrik’s party, you send them to Botkinburg via your wagon, your hired help, and your dogs.
You continue on with the impatient barbarian to Dreddstan to question an Ogre that you’ve now come to understand is leading the Red Cap goblins. Morandir Orc-crusher challenges the Ogre and calls on the power of his god to strike him when he comes out of The Ogre Inn. A fight ensues where a few get away, most notably, someone called The Vulture. You also hear of some issues in something called the Slag Heap south of Dreddstan.
You free the slaves of the town and hear that there might be a couple of gnomes held by Reglar that could be of use in finding Dreddstan. You purchase the gnomes from Relgar (feeling taxed at the moment, you choose not to start another fight.) As you gather more information about The Slag Heap, hearing that there are ungern in the area, you decide to lead the slaves back to Botkinburg.
Indeed, on the way back you encounter a group of 10 ungern, however, you win the fight fairly quickly. You settle into your first night’s camp on a long journey…the freed slaves are slowing you down quite a bit.
You arrive in Gipsheim and realize that it is an unlikely spot for Miles to fence the goods. However, it’s as good a lead as any and you head to what appears to be a dilapidated inn, The Ram’s Head Tavern.
Inside you can see that it’s barely a working inn and the bartender is definitely unsavory. You encounter a small group of people and by and large end up in a fight with them realizing they are associates of Baldros. You quickly dispatch them and are now standing over their dying bodies debating on whether to interrogate them or just finish them off.
A rumor that the town leaders of Botkinburg needed help fending of goblins had you thinking of rich rewards of a bigger town. North you headed up the Hruesen River valley along the menacing Blacktooth Ridge. Almost upon arrival, you turned around and set off to rescue the Molkin twins who disappeared a fortnight prior.
Your travels brought you to a ruined tower, Fromkin’s Pass as the locals call it, that lay just across an ancient stone bridge on the escarpment above the Blacktooth Ridge. The tower didn’t look like it was the make of the minions of the Horned One, rather you thought it could almost be elvish. Finding nothing you traveled a bit more and found the entrance to a guard post built into the ridge. Inside, you found a nasty ogre named Kruggle who has been terrorizing the countryside. You rescued Wado Brikker from Ludensheim who promised you free accommodations at his family’s inn. You also “convinced” Kruggle that he should help the townsfolk in return for food rather than terrorizing them and stealing it.
In his lair, you found a map to The Vargolg, where you’ve heard that the Redcap goblins have made their lair. Numerous dungeons and temples lie along the ridge, the map was indeed a great find. Employing one Tirten, a dwarf and town butcher, you head south along the ridge. Tirten proves his worth in fighting various encounters with the wilds of Blacktooth Ridge along the way. In circumventing what you suspect is a troll living under a pier, you arrive near The Vargolg to realize that Tirten is missing. In entering the Vargolg, you suffer a number of wounds are and forced into a retreat. You set up camp, sleeping in the trees with a number of snare traps surrounding you.
You awoke to an orc and goblin raiding party coming into the camp and the snare traps going off. It works brilliantly and you are able to dispatch all the enemies. In the morning, you once again try a sortie into The Vargolg only to be repelled by their ambush. That night again, you fend off a raiding party foiled by the snare traps. Unfortunately, some do get away and you knew that it probably wasn’t going to work again, however, the next night, you are able to fend off another raid. You realize you have killed a significant number of goblins and orcs.
A lagging party member arrives with a couple of trained fighting dogs and you decide to take the fight into The Vargolg. Upon entering, you find a mostly empty dungeon, although there are a few nasty surprises. A trapped room that causes you various problems in health and mental state, is finally overcome and you eventually infd and free the Malkin twins and Barldus Mikenfird, as well as kill what appear to be the leaders of the goblins, Maglerod and Grakmuk. You also discover a small chest filled with coins from Ludensheim and heard them arguing about payment for their raids. Upon exiting, you find Baldros dead, victim of the roach worms you disturbed earlier. You had sent him on his way because something about him seemed untrustworthy, and now you suspect he was the one delivering the payment to the goblins.
You head back to town and receive your reward and return some belongs of Aldadius, the court Wizard. You receive some free training as well as get some magical items identified before you head back to The Vargolg to see if there is any further treasure to extract from it. You also find Tirten who has returned unharmed after being separated from you during your journey. He’s quite happy to see you’ve survived.
Your trip back up the ridge is largely uneventful. You do find that the remaining goblins have left with all their belongings, heading west across the river. You do a quick run through of the dungeon to ensure you haven’t missed anything and encounter a ghost naga in the back as well as some lost treasure the goblins apparently didn’t notice.
From there, you set out pursuing the fleeing goblins in hope of more treasure. Outside of a fight with a few ogres, you eventually catch up to find that they have all been slain. The arrows indicate that Miles Freland was likely the culprit. You decide to head northwest to Gipsheim, the remains of a mining town on Riggle’s Trail, a bit notorious for unsavory characters, surly Miles will return the goblins loot to you.
You arrived in Malforten on rumors of a bounty offered for Gritznak’s, a particularly mean spirited gnoll, capture. You met up with Eryl the Hoskin, the local militia leader who wasn’t all that happy about involving outsiders. He suspected someone in town was feeding Gritznak information. The tracking of Gritznak led you to a buried temple to the Horned One, specifically, The Temple of Baleon Nakt. Within the temple, you found the lair of the goblins and much worse, a nearly sentient skeleton that is attempting to raise the spirit of the high priest of Baleon Nakt through sacrifices done by Gritznak. Sadly, one of your traveling companions died in your initial excursion into the tomb.
You employed a number of people from town to help you:
