And here are some larger-scale versions (the above map divided into quarters scaled for letter-size printing):
Hope these come in handy!
Showing posts with label Maps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maps. Show all posts
05 May 2012
Elvehelm Maps
I've been posting a lot of material on Elvehelm, and thought it might be a good idea to post the maps, to enable anyone reading this blog to track the story.
20 October 2007
Bymill (II) - Ballock's Boyz
The last time we saw our heroes, they were lounging about in the shallow steaming tubs of the Bymill Baths. All except for Bjorn, of course. He was standing in the alleyway outside the Baths, his horse’s reins in one hand and his hammer in the other, wondering where the Party’s wagon had gone.
Heedless of the muck on his boots, he barged into the main foyer of the Baths, demanding to know where his colleagues were. He found Joraz and Breygon in fairly short order, but his innate sensibilities stopped him before he burst into the ladies’ side of the building. One of the bath attendants entered instead, and in only a few moments, the Party had re-assembled outside, still a little damp, and more than a little ticked.
Breygon and Greywind (who had accompanied his master into the building – who’s going to argue with a 200-pound wolf?) cast about for a few moments, and then picked up the wagon’s trail without too much difficulty. The wheel-tracks were lost quickly on the cobblestones, but Greywind knew the Party’s wagon horses well by scent, and had no problem following them.
The trail led the Party northwards, towards the Great Hall of the Allfather. It passed in front of the temple and then behind Varlgant Manor, heading up Temple Road, before hooking down a side street into a seedy, rather industrial part of town that they had not yet entered. With the rest of the Party following at a distance, Breygon and Gwen followed the tracks towards a large but relatively non-descript warehouse tucked away among a half-dozen others like it.
They checked the building over carefully. The walls were of heavy plank-on-beam construction, on a fieldstone foundation; the building appeared to be a good two stories high, with a low-pitched but tough-looking thatched covering. The building was roughly square, but had a small, one-story outbuilding attached to the back, and some sort of square protrusion on the north side – the direction from which they approached. There seemed to be large bay-type doors on the sides they could see (north and west), and a smaller door on the outbuilding. Breygon took a quick scouting mission around to the south side, and confirmed a third bay door – this one guarded by some rough-looking fellows.
After a hurried discussion of tactics, the Party moved to the door on the blank north wall, finding it locked. While Gwen worked at it with her picks, Joraz scaled the warehouse wall, moved soundlessly out onto the roof, and began to worry a hole in the thatching. A few moments later, the lock was open, and the fun began.
A large pile of jumbled crates lay immediately behind the doors. Bjorn was over them in a flash, and found the warehouse packed with goods, milling crowds of brigands, and – smack in the middle of the floor – their wagon, which was in the process of being unloaded. Gwen began launching arrows at everyone in sight, while Lyra blasted away at the petty criminals with Sleep spells and Magic Missiles. A moment later, Joraz leapt through his hole in the roof, and immediately engaged the bandits who were unloading the wagon.
At the front (i.e., southern) door, another battle was under way; Breygon and Greywind had sprung around the corner and cut into the half-dozen brigands guarding this principle entrance. One blast of Greywind’s icy breath and a few sword-cuts, and the majority of the enemy fled. Breygon and the wolf threw open the doors, and entered – only to find that the tactical situation inside had deteriorated somewhat in the interim.
Having spotted someone unusual in an office at the front of the building, Joraz had leapt off the wagon, heading for a new confrontation. He got it in the form of a lightning bolt that blasted a big, black hole in his rib cage, and dropped him like a stone (this was the monk’s first encounter with the negative side of the Hit Point ledger, but certainly not his last). Gwen was still pinned against the north wall, shooting at anyone who moved; Lyra was fighting with rapier in one hand, and slinging spells with the other; and Bjorn had been backed up against the wagon, and was dropping brigands left and right with heavy hammer-blows. Breygon engaged two more of the brigands near the front doors, while Greywind went for the fellow who had zapped Joraz – a Half-Elven sorcerer, as it turned out, who tried to launch another lightning bolt at the great wolf, only to be seized in Greywind’s jaws, and breathed on.
Heedless of the muck on his boots, he barged into the main foyer of the Baths, demanding to know where his colleagues were. He found Joraz and Breygon in fairly short order, but his innate sensibilities stopped him before he burst into the ladies’ side of the building. One of the bath attendants entered instead, and in only a few moments, the Party had re-assembled outside, still a little damp, and more than a little ticked.
Breygon and Greywind (who had accompanied his master into the building – who’s going to argue with a 200-pound wolf?) cast about for a few moments, and then picked up the wagon’s trail without too much difficulty. The wheel-tracks were lost quickly on the cobblestones, but Greywind knew the Party’s wagon horses well by scent, and had no problem following them.
The trail led the Party northwards, towards the Great Hall of the Allfather. It passed in front of the temple and then behind Varlgant Manor, heading up Temple Road, before hooking down a side street into a seedy, rather industrial part of town that they had not yet entered. With the rest of the Party following at a distance, Breygon and Gwen followed the tracks towards a large but relatively non-descript warehouse tucked away among a half-dozen others like it.
They checked the building over carefully. The walls were of heavy plank-on-beam construction, on a fieldstone foundation; the building appeared to be a good two stories high, with a low-pitched but tough-looking thatched covering. The building was roughly square, but had a small, one-story outbuilding attached to the back, and some sort of square protrusion on the north side – the direction from which they approached. There seemed to be large bay-type doors on the sides they could see (north and west), and a smaller door on the outbuilding. Breygon took a quick scouting mission around to the south side, and confirmed a third bay door – this one guarded by some rough-looking fellows.
After a hurried discussion of tactics, the Party moved to the door on the blank north wall, finding it locked. While Gwen worked at it with her picks, Joraz scaled the warehouse wall, moved soundlessly out onto the roof, and began to worry a hole in the thatching. A few moments later, the lock was open, and the fun began.
A large pile of jumbled crates lay immediately behind the doors. Bjorn was over them in a flash, and found the warehouse packed with goods, milling crowds of brigands, and – smack in the middle of the floor – their wagon, which was in the process of being unloaded. Gwen began launching arrows at everyone in sight, while Lyra blasted away at the petty criminals with Sleep spells and Magic Missiles. A moment later, Joraz leapt through his hole in the roof, and immediately engaged the bandits who were unloading the wagon.At the front (i.e., southern) door, another battle was under way; Breygon and Greywind had sprung around the corner and cut into the half-dozen brigands guarding this principle entrance. One blast of Greywind’s icy breath and a few sword-cuts, and the majority of the enemy fled. Breygon and the wolf threw open the doors, and entered – only to find that the tactical situation inside had deteriorated somewhat in the interim.
Having spotted someone unusual in an office at the front of the building, Joraz had leapt off the wagon, heading for a new confrontation. He got it in the form of a lightning bolt that blasted a big, black hole in his rib cage, and dropped him like a stone (this was the monk’s first encounter with the negative side of the Hit Point ledger, but certainly not his last). Gwen was still pinned against the north wall, shooting at anyone who moved; Lyra was fighting with rapier in one hand, and slinging spells with the other; and Bjorn had been backed up against the wagon, and was dropping brigands left and right with heavy hammer-blows. Breygon engaged two more of the brigands near the front doors, while Greywind went for the fellow who had zapped Joraz – a Half-Elven sorcerer, as it turned out, who tried to launch another lightning bolt at the great wolf, only to be seized in Greywind’s jaws, and breathed on.
It was around this time that a new arrival entered the fight, appearing from the low out-building connected to the east side of the warehouse. This fellow showed up in a loose bathrobe, wielding a pair of fine swords, and nearly turned the tide, hacking away at Bjorn and Lyra like a man possessed. By this time, however, many of the brigands were dead, and the rest were trying to flee, pounding down the stairs from the balcony that ringed the warehouse’s second story, and bolting willy-nilly out the door. The Party let them go, and concentrated on the newcomer, while Greywind put the sorcerer down by biting his head off with a well-timed critical hit. Then the great wolf then turned his innate healing abilities on the stricken Joraz, saving the monk from certain death.
The combination of forces was too much; after a few more arrows and magic missles, and a couple of unpleasant whacks from the priest’s hammer, he turned and fled whence he had come, locking the door behind him. Gwen sorted that problem out in only a few moments, and the Party burst into what seemed to be a large, comfortably furnished apartment, where the newcomer – who turned out to be Glaive Ballock, King of the Bymill Brigands – was cowering in a corner, showing considerably less spine than the two underage entertainers he had hired for the evening.
Breygon (with Gwen’s enthusiastic goading) was disinclined to accept the man’s proffered surrender, but Bjorn argued them into taking him into custody, promising to watch him until he could be turned over to a lawful authority. The Party gave both of the girls a handful of gold and sent them on their way; then turned to systematically looting the room. Bjorn hog-tied Ballock, then healed Joraz and the others who had suffered wounds in the scuffle; and he and Joraz hustled Ballock off to the Great Hall, to be turned over to Father Hardfist, while Breygon, Gwen and Lyra remained behind to reload their wagon, along with the goodies they had discovered in Ballock’s chamber.
The combination of forces was too much; after a few more arrows and magic missles, and a couple of unpleasant whacks from the priest’s hammer, he turned and fled whence he had come, locking the door behind him. Gwen sorted that problem out in only a few moments, and the Party burst into what seemed to be a large, comfortably furnished apartment, where the newcomer – who turned out to be Glaive Ballock, King of the Bymill Brigands – was cowering in a corner, showing considerably less spine than the two underage entertainers he had hired for the evening.
Breygon (with Gwen’s enthusiastic goading) was disinclined to accept the man’s proffered surrender, but Bjorn argued them into taking him into custody, promising to watch him until he could be turned over to a lawful authority. The Party gave both of the girls a handful of gold and sent them on their way; then turned to systematically looting the room. Bjorn hog-tied Ballock, then healed Joraz and the others who had suffered wounds in the scuffle; and he and Joraz hustled Ballock off to the Great Hall, to be turned over to Father Hardfist, while Breygon, Gwen and Lyra remained behind to reload their wagon, along with the goodies they had discovered in Ballock’s chamber.
The Party reassembled at the Stag’s Head Tavern for a late dinner. After dining, Bjorn tidied himself up and reported to the Great Hall to assist Hardfist in Restoring Ankallys’ mind. While there, he met Hardfist’s Deacon, a young Battle Healer named Jurgen Wyekart. They brough Ankallys back to normal, and Bjorn left her under Wyekart’s care, promising to return to visit her on the morrow.
The other adventurers stayed at the Tavern, enjoying a much-needed rest while watching Lyra cast Detect Magic on their loot. They had moved everything into their suite (including the giant coffin full of silver bars, which took some doing), and it made an impressive pile. By the time Bjorn returned and reported on the healing of Ankallys, everyone was ready for a nightcap and bed. Greywind fell asleep on the floor before the fireplace, paws in the air, as was his wont.
They needed a good night’s sleep, because the next day was Harvest Festival – and it was going to be a very, VERY busy day.
Especially busy, seeing as how the half-orc who had tricked Bjorn was still at large.
And ESPECIALLY for Gwen.
Ballock’s Boys
Glaive Ballock is the king of brigands in Bymill; he runs the largest gang of cutpurses and sneak-thieves in town, known around the countryside as “Ballock’s Boys”. They have a hand in everything: the pickpockets, the grifters, the whores, the protection rackets...and the fencing of stolen objects. Usually they stay below the radar of the nobility - all except Ballock, who is known as a rake about town and something of a lady's man, and who has been putting his ill-gotten cash to use in the same manner as all brigands since time immemorial: buying politicians.
If the Party EVER leaves their wagon unattended for more than a few minutes, Ballock’s Boys will steal it (especially if they have been flaunting their wealth). The theft party will consist of one of Ballock’s deputies, 6-10 bully boys, and possibly Radobaul, the disfigured Elven sorcerer. If the party doesn’t notice the theft for more than 5 minutes, the group will have got away clean, which means they will have to be tracked to their warehouse. Depending on how badly they want somebody's stuff, they may even stage a feint to draw guards away from the goods.
It will take 5-10 minutes to get the wagon back to the warehouse (depending on where in town the theft takes place), and a further hour for Ballock’s Boys to empty it and begin to conceal its contents. Once it is empty, the wagon will be pushed into the river to float away (or sink, 25% chance); the horses will be taken out separately and sold to individual farmers the following day. The silver and coin will be secreted in Ballock’s strongroom, along with any kit that Radobaul identifies as magical; all of this will be laundered over the coming 1-4 days. After a week or so, some of the magical kit may turn up here in town (25% chance) or in Ellohyin (50%) or Bitterberg (25%).
KEY NON-PLAYER CHARACTERS
Glaive Ballock (Zaran Human Warrior 12) HP 94, AC 17 (MW Studded Leather, or 14 clothed), Init+5, Longsword+1 and Shortsword+1 (matched set, Ekhani), Atk +12/+7/+2 and +8/+3/-2, F+8, R+4, W+4, Climb+10, Jump+10, Ride+12
Radobaul (High Elven Sorcerer 10) HP 41, AC 16 (+1 Bracers, +1 Ring), Init+6, Rapier+1 (Atk +6), Shortbow+9, F+5, R+6, W+9, Spellcraft+12, Conc+13, Spells 0:6, 1:7, 2:7, 3:7, 4:5, 5:3 (Charisma 18, Comeliness 3 due to facial deformity, clubfoot and hunchback) (3x Potions of Invisibility, 3x Potions of CSW, Scroll of Web x2, Hold Person x2, Wand of Sleep (CL 10/12 charges), Ring of Protection+1, Bracers+1, Wand of Lightning Bolt (CL10/9 charges). Well known around town as Ballock’s Factor. A thoroughly unpleasant and evil person.
Targus (Half-Orc Warrior 8) HP 80, AC 15 (Chainshirt), Morningstar +11/+6, Dam 1d8+3, F+6, R+2, W+2. A brutal thug without a conscience.
Owen (Oststrander Human Warrior 7) HP 40, AC 18 (+1 Studded Leather), Rapier +10/+5,, Dam 1d6, F+6, R+6, W+2. A dashing swordsman who dislikes foul play.
Blaine (Zaran Human Warrior 7) HP 55, AC 13 (Studded Leather), Club +8/+3, Dam 1d6, F+6, R+2, W+2. A good organizer, but a coward.
Ballock's Boys (40 Zaran humans, 12 Half-Orcs) Warrior 1, HP 5-10, AC 12-13 (Leather, Studded Leather), Shortsword or Club, Atk +1, Dam 1d6+1, F+2, R+0, W+0.
* * * * *
1. Main entrance, standard warehouse doors, 3-4 bully boys hanging around outside. 1 patrols the outside of the building once every 30 minutes.
2. Disused entrance. Locked (Average, open DC 25). Foot patrol every 30 minutes.
3. Factor’s office. Radobaul does the books and keeps people in line; when not out on missions, he works here. Desk contains ledgers, parchment, pens and a hidden compartment (Search DC 25) holding 1 Potion of Invisibility. Radobaul lives elsewhere in town, in a fine suite in a building not far from the Iron Caravel.
4. Warehouse Floor. Flagstones, uneven; dirty, broken bits of crates and jute sacking, some manure, a few nails. 2-12 bully boys lounging around, tidying, throwing dice, etc.
4(A) Fine goods: bales of good cloth, down for pillows, fine furniture, finished clothing.
4(B) Barrels of ale and wine
4(C) Used goods: furniture, clothing, weapons, armour, saddles, tack, miscellaneous tools and equipment
4(D) Chemicals (seed oils, vegetable oils, some whale oil, distilled spirit, turpentine, tar)
4(E) Rough goods: hardware, lumber, cheap furniture, canvas, unfinished wool and cotton, tanned hides, iron ingots, fine marble slabs, bar copper, lead ingots, fine sand (for glass)
5. Water closet (one-holer feeds into sewer system; water supply fed from rainwater barrels on roof)
6. Ballock’s guards. 3-4 bully boys (larger, with swords) stand guard here; no-one enters, ever (appointments are always held elsewhere). However, Ballock has an eye for the ladies, and they will let a beautiful women in, if she drops his name and lets them frisk her for weapons. He lives here and is always here at night, often with (hired) female company.
7. Ballock’s chamber. Fine wood walls and ceiling, polished hardwood floor, carpets, tapestries; almost garishly decorated. Numerous valuable tchotchkies everywhere (50-100 of them, each 1 lb, each worth 10-100 gp).
7(A) Massive walnut 4-poster bed with drawn silk curtains (w. 1000 gp); usually 1-2 town whores of the more attractive and dumb variety here (50%). Between the mattress and the ticking on the east side is a MW Shortsword in a gold-chased black leather scabbard, and a Potion of Bull’s Strength.
7(B) Wardrobe: contains numerous fine tunics and cloaks, hosen, boots, feathered hats and all manner of fashionable and noble attire, none of it too clean. Also contains a broken MW Longsword in a gold-chased black leather scabbard and a large wooden shield.
7(C) Chest (Locked, Good, Pick DC 30): TRAP: Poison Needle (Search DC 25, Disable DC 25, Attack+10, damage 1+poison [Giant Wasp Venom: DC 18, 1d6 Dex/1d6Dex]). Contains set of accounts books, 3 Potions of Stallion’s Performance, 2 Potions of CSW, 1 Potion of Remove Disease, 1 MW Dagger in a gold-chased black leather scabbard, and assorted rings, arm-bands and necklaces (30 items, value 10-60 gp each).
7(D) Chest (Unlocked). Contains various smallclothes, stockings, a pair of fine leather gloves, a pearl-encrusted gold goblet (125 gp).
7(E) Wine Barrel: top loose, gold wine ewer and 3 goblets on top; half-full of good red wine (a few dead bugs floating in it). In the bottom of the wine barrel is a handful of rough, uncut rubies (12 rubies, each worth 50 gp uncut, 200+GP if cut). Can’t be seen unless wine is emptied out (manual search DC 30).
7(F) Bookshelf: Heavy wooden bookshelf, full of rolled scrolls, a few illuminated manuscripts (including [Search DC 25] a copy of the “Evincum Haradi”, an ancient High Elven text of immense value to scholars [1000-6000 gp], detailing the fall of the Houses of Harad at the end of the Age of Wisdom).
Under the bookshelf (Search DC 30, or automatic if bookshelf is moved) is a bronze strongbox set into the floor with an amazing lock (Pick DC 40); Ballock carries the only key. The door has hardness 10 and 40 HP. It contains 12x10 pound gold bars, 2x10 pound hardsilver bars, 1200 SP in rolls of 100, and a wooden box of potion vials (12 vials: 4 each of Invisibility, Bull’s Strength, and Fire Breath).
8. Back door: Very good lock, opens easily from the inside, Pick DC 30 from the outside. Door has a “Magic Mouth” spell on it that, if opened by anyone other than Ballock, will shriek “Intruders! Intruders!” once every 5 seconds for 2 minutes. It can be heard in a 300’ radius, and anywhere inside the building.
NOTE: There is a 12’ drop from the 2nd floor to the 1st. The railing is wooden and flimsy, has Hardness 5, HP 5, and a break DC of 13. It is 8’ from the 2nd floor to the ceiling rafters, which peak at about 16’ from the second floor, or 28’ from the first.
9. Guard post: 2 bully boys at this table at all times (4 at night), watching the front door and listening for intruders. Armed with Lt Xbows.
10. Arms locker: contains 6 Lt Xbows, 10 average shortswords, 22 clubs, 2 morningstars, and 11 quivers with 12 bolts each.
11. Common tables: 3-12 bully boys here at any time during the day, 1-2 sleeping on the tables at night. Dirty, half-eaten food, empty mugs.
12. Blaine’s corner. Wardrobe contains dirty tunics and trousers, boots, a heavy winter cape and a rusty battleaxe. Bedding has a dagger under the pillow. Chest contains smallclothes, a leather sack of 45 CP and 12 SP, a hand axe, a full wineskin and a dried loaf of rye bread.
13. Targus’ corner. Wardrobe contains dirty Hide Armour, a Dire Flail, winter boots, a heavy winter cloak with hood, a desiccated elf’s head and hands. Chest contains a small wooden strongbox, locked (Pick DC 25), containing 45 GP and 150 SP; smallclothes; a Potion of CLW, a pair of good quality manacles; a bulls-eye lantern, half-full of oil; and a waxed box containing 11 tindertwigs.
14. Owen’s corner. Wardrobe contains clean, elegant clothing in small sizes; good boots and shoes, and a fine woolen cloak with silk lining (v. 50 gp). It also contains a spare rapier (normal), a small MW buckler and composite shortbow and quiver containing 24 arrows. Behind the back wall of the cabinet (Search DC 28) is a secret door that opens in the wall of the warehouse, with a 6’ drop to the roof of the garderobe below.
The chest is locked (Pick DC 30) and contains smallclothes, a number of scrolls (all novels), a purse of 250 SP and another of 150 gp, as well as 4 Potions of CLW. At the bottom of the chest is a secret compartment (SEARCH DC 30) containing a Potion of Flying, a Potion of Invisibility, a gold and emerald necklace v. 1000 gp, and a gold and emerald ring v. 500 gp. The barrels contain average quality ale.
The other adventurers stayed at the Tavern, enjoying a much-needed rest while watching Lyra cast Detect Magic on their loot. They had moved everything into their suite (including the giant coffin full of silver bars, which took some doing), and it made an impressive pile. By the time Bjorn returned and reported on the healing of Ankallys, everyone was ready for a nightcap and bed. Greywind fell asleep on the floor before the fireplace, paws in the air, as was his wont.
They needed a good night’s sleep, because the next day was Harvest Festival – and it was going to be a very, VERY busy day.
Especially busy, seeing as how the half-orc who had tricked Bjorn was still at large.
And ESPECIALLY for Gwen.
Ballock’s Boys
Glaive Ballock is the king of brigands in Bymill; he runs the largest gang of cutpurses and sneak-thieves in town, known around the countryside as “Ballock’s Boys”. They have a hand in everything: the pickpockets, the grifters, the whores, the protection rackets...and the fencing of stolen objects. Usually they stay below the radar of the nobility - all except Ballock, who is known as a rake about town and something of a lady's man, and who has been putting his ill-gotten cash to use in the same manner as all brigands since time immemorial: buying politicians.
If the Party EVER leaves their wagon unattended for more than a few minutes, Ballock’s Boys will steal it (especially if they have been flaunting their wealth). The theft party will consist of one of Ballock’s deputies, 6-10 bully boys, and possibly Radobaul, the disfigured Elven sorcerer. If the party doesn’t notice the theft for more than 5 minutes, the group will have got away clean, which means they will have to be tracked to their warehouse. Depending on how badly they want somebody's stuff, they may even stage a feint to draw guards away from the goods.
It will take 5-10 minutes to get the wagon back to the warehouse (depending on where in town the theft takes place), and a further hour for Ballock’s Boys to empty it and begin to conceal its contents. Once it is empty, the wagon will be pushed into the river to float away (or sink, 25% chance); the horses will be taken out separately and sold to individual farmers the following day. The silver and coin will be secreted in Ballock’s strongroom, along with any kit that Radobaul identifies as magical; all of this will be laundered over the coming 1-4 days. After a week or so, some of the magical kit may turn up here in town (25% chance) or in Ellohyin (50%) or Bitterberg (25%).
KEY NON-PLAYER CHARACTERS
Glaive Ballock (Zaran Human Warrior 12) HP 94, AC 17 (MW Studded Leather, or 14 clothed), Init+5, Longsword+1 and Shortsword+1 (matched set, Ekhani), Atk +12/+7/+2 and +8/+3/-2, F+8, R+4, W+4, Climb+10, Jump+10, Ride+12
Radobaul (High Elven Sorcerer 10) HP 41, AC 16 (+1 Bracers, +1 Ring), Init+6, Rapier+1 (Atk +6), Shortbow+9, F+5, R+6, W+9, Spellcraft+12, Conc+13, Spells 0:6, 1:7, 2:7, 3:7, 4:5, 5:3 (Charisma 18, Comeliness 3 due to facial deformity, clubfoot and hunchback) (3x Potions of Invisibility, 3x Potions of CSW, Scroll of Web x2, Hold Person x2, Wand of Sleep (CL 10/12 charges), Ring of Protection+1, Bracers+1, Wand of Lightning Bolt (CL10/9 charges). Well known around town as Ballock’s Factor. A thoroughly unpleasant and evil person.
Targus (Half-Orc Warrior 8) HP 80, AC 15 (Chainshirt), Morningstar +11/+6, Dam 1d8+3, F+6, R+2, W+2. A brutal thug without a conscience.
Owen (Oststrander Human Warrior 7) HP 40, AC 18 (+1 Studded Leather), Rapier +10/+5,, Dam 1d6, F+6, R+6, W+2. A dashing swordsman who dislikes foul play.
Blaine (Zaran Human Warrior 7) HP 55, AC 13 (Studded Leather), Club +8/+3, Dam 1d6, F+6, R+2, W+2. A good organizer, but a coward.
Ballock's Boys (40 Zaran humans, 12 Half-Orcs) Warrior 1, HP 5-10, AC 12-13 (Leather, Studded Leather), Shortsword or Club, Atk +1, Dam 1d6+1, F+2, R+0, W+0.
* * * * *
1. Main entrance, standard warehouse doors, 3-4 bully boys hanging around outside. 1 patrols the outside of the building once every 30 minutes.
2. Disused entrance. Locked (Average, open DC 25). Foot patrol every 30 minutes.
3. Factor’s office. Radobaul does the books and keeps people in line; when not out on missions, he works here. Desk contains ledgers, parchment, pens and a hidden compartment (Search DC 25) holding 1 Potion of Invisibility. Radobaul lives elsewhere in town, in a fine suite in a building not far from the Iron Caravel.
4. Warehouse Floor. Flagstones, uneven; dirty, broken bits of crates and jute sacking, some manure, a few nails. 2-12 bully boys lounging around, tidying, throwing dice, etc.
4(A) Fine goods: bales of good cloth, down for pillows, fine furniture, finished clothing.
4(B) Barrels of ale and wine
4(C) Used goods: furniture, clothing, weapons, armour, saddles, tack, miscellaneous tools and equipment
4(D) Chemicals (seed oils, vegetable oils, some whale oil, distilled spirit, turpentine, tar)
4(E) Rough goods: hardware, lumber, cheap furniture, canvas, unfinished wool and cotton, tanned hides, iron ingots, fine marble slabs, bar copper, lead ingots, fine sand (for glass)
5. Water closet (one-holer feeds into sewer system; water supply fed from rainwater barrels on roof)
6. Ballock’s guards. 3-4 bully boys (larger, with swords) stand guard here; no-one enters, ever (appointments are always held elsewhere). However, Ballock has an eye for the ladies, and they will let a beautiful women in, if she drops his name and lets them frisk her for weapons. He lives here and is always here at night, often with (hired) female company.
7. Ballock’s chamber. Fine wood walls and ceiling, polished hardwood floor, carpets, tapestries; almost garishly decorated. Numerous valuable tchotchkies everywhere (50-100 of them, each 1 lb, each worth 10-100 gp).
7(A) Massive walnut 4-poster bed with drawn silk curtains (w. 1000 gp); usually 1-2 town whores of the more attractive and dumb variety here (50%). Between the mattress and the ticking on the east side is a MW Shortsword in a gold-chased black leather scabbard, and a Potion of Bull’s Strength.
7(B) Wardrobe: contains numerous fine tunics and cloaks, hosen, boots, feathered hats and all manner of fashionable and noble attire, none of it too clean. Also contains a broken MW Longsword in a gold-chased black leather scabbard and a large wooden shield.
7(C) Chest (Locked, Good, Pick DC 30): TRAP: Poison Needle (Search DC 25, Disable DC 25, Attack+10, damage 1+poison [Giant Wasp Venom: DC 18, 1d6 Dex/1d6Dex]). Contains set of accounts books, 3 Potions of Stallion’s Performance, 2 Potions of CSW, 1 Potion of Remove Disease, 1 MW Dagger in a gold-chased black leather scabbard, and assorted rings, arm-bands and necklaces (30 items, value 10-60 gp each).
7(D) Chest (Unlocked). Contains various smallclothes, stockings, a pair of fine leather gloves, a pearl-encrusted gold goblet (125 gp).
7(E) Wine Barrel: top loose, gold wine ewer and 3 goblets on top; half-full of good red wine (a few dead bugs floating in it). In the bottom of the wine barrel is a handful of rough, uncut rubies (12 rubies, each worth 50 gp uncut, 200+GP if cut). Can’t be seen unless wine is emptied out (manual search DC 30).
7(F) Bookshelf: Heavy wooden bookshelf, full of rolled scrolls, a few illuminated manuscripts (including [Search DC 25] a copy of the “Evincum Haradi”, an ancient High Elven text of immense value to scholars [1000-6000 gp], detailing the fall of the Houses of Harad at the end of the Age of Wisdom).
Under the bookshelf (Search DC 30, or automatic if bookshelf is moved) is a bronze strongbox set into the floor with an amazing lock (Pick DC 40); Ballock carries the only key. The door has hardness 10 and 40 HP. It contains 12x10 pound gold bars, 2x10 pound hardsilver bars, 1200 SP in rolls of 100, and a wooden box of potion vials (12 vials: 4 each of Invisibility, Bull’s Strength, and Fire Breath).
8. Back door: Very good lock, opens easily from the inside, Pick DC 30 from the outside. Door has a “Magic Mouth” spell on it that, if opened by anyone other than Ballock, will shriek “Intruders! Intruders!” once every 5 seconds for 2 minutes. It can be heard in a 300’ radius, and anywhere inside the building.
NOTE: There is a 12’ drop from the 2nd floor to the 1st. The railing is wooden and flimsy, has Hardness 5, HP 5, and a break DC of 13. It is 8’ from the 2nd floor to the ceiling rafters, which peak at about 16’ from the second floor, or 28’ from the first.
9. Guard post: 2 bully boys at this table at all times (4 at night), watching the front door and listening for intruders. Armed with Lt Xbows.
10. Arms locker: contains 6 Lt Xbows, 10 average shortswords, 22 clubs, 2 morningstars, and 11 quivers with 12 bolts each.
11. Common tables: 3-12 bully boys here at any time during the day, 1-2 sleeping on the tables at night. Dirty, half-eaten food, empty mugs.
12. Blaine’s corner. Wardrobe contains dirty tunics and trousers, boots, a heavy winter cape and a rusty battleaxe. Bedding has a dagger under the pillow. Chest contains smallclothes, a leather sack of 45 CP and 12 SP, a hand axe, a full wineskin and a dried loaf of rye bread.
13. Targus’ corner. Wardrobe contains dirty Hide Armour, a Dire Flail, winter boots, a heavy winter cloak with hood, a desiccated elf’s head and hands. Chest contains a small wooden strongbox, locked (Pick DC 25), containing 45 GP and 150 SP; smallclothes; a Potion of CLW, a pair of good quality manacles; a bulls-eye lantern, half-full of oil; and a waxed box containing 11 tindertwigs.
14. Owen’s corner. Wardrobe contains clean, elegant clothing in small sizes; good boots and shoes, and a fine woolen cloak with silk lining (v. 50 gp). It also contains a spare rapier (normal), a small MW buckler and composite shortbow and quiver containing 24 arrows. Behind the back wall of the cabinet (Search DC 28) is a secret door that opens in the wall of the warehouse, with a 6’ drop to the roof of the garderobe below.
The chest is locked (Pick DC 30) and contains smallclothes, a number of scrolls (all novels), a purse of 250 SP and another of 150 gp, as well as 4 Potions of CLW. At the bottom of the chest is a secret compartment (SEARCH DC 30) containing a Potion of Flying, a Potion of Invisibility, a gold and emerald necklace v. 1000 gp, and a gold and emerald ring v. 500 gp. The barrels contain average quality ale.
04 October 2007
Ganesford
Hello again. I see that it’s been a good long while since I wrapped up the tale of what transpired at the Broken Temple of Karg. It’s time to move on and recount what occurred over the next few days.
Today’s subject is the town of Ganesford. Ganesford is pretty much a one-horse whistle stop whose only reason for existence is the fact that it’s located at the easiest place to cross the Sweetvale River, one of the major tributaries of the Stjerneflåde. The Sweetvale is cold, fast and in most places deep, but it shallows out where it has to cross the granite escarpment that parallels the great river and the Nordvej. There’s no bridge here and no need for one; the Sweetvale never gets above two feet deep even during the spring thaws, and while the bones tend to chill in the crossing, there are warm fires and cold ale to be had on both sides.
You’ll recall that, on 12 Lastreap, the newcomers (Bjorn and Lyra) joined the rump of the original Party (Breygon, Gwen, Joraz and Greywind) at the site of the earthquake, near the broken temple of Karg. They also met Ankallys of Vejborg, who was busily scrabbling in the detritus for signs of her master and colleagues. The follow day they entered the temple, and scared up some of its denizens; and Ankallys provoked a major crisis by breaking into the tomb of the former high priest, resulting in a wave of Allips that was only resolved when Bjorn agreed to be possessed by the Ghost of Ekruhalagar.
Well, as you know, the Party survived, but seeing as how there was a town only a mile or so up the road, they didn’t feel like spending the night sleeping in tents. They mounted up, rode for Ganesford, and reached the south bank of the Sweetvale by mid-afternoon. They took rooms at the Traveler’s Rest Inn (see below) and slept the night. The following morning, 14 Lastreap, they crossed the Sweetvale and entered the town proper, and began looking around, trying to find out where their designated contact, Malryn Olgin, lived. Gwen and Joraz dropped in on Eldred Wainstik, the leatherworker, while Breygon, Lyra and Greywind visited Telchin Manor – only to discover that Sieur Telchin had a Half-Orc door-warden, an inauspicious occurrence given Breygon’s choice of favoured enemies.
Bjorn took the wagon, with the comatose Ankallys aboard, to find the Temple of the Hand, and made the acquaintance of Gyle Fanwaith, Priest of the Healing Hand, and his acolyte, Eloan Wood. They advised Bjorn, much to their regret, that they did not have the skill or power to restore Ankallys’ mind, but they further informed him that the Fist of the Allfather in Bymill stood high in his church’s hierarchy, and could no doubt perform the necessary rites. In the meantime, they agreed to take Ankallys under their care while the Party was in Ganesford.
“Here’s what I want you to do. Travel west, up the valley, until you get to Bymill. There’s a horse trader there, name of Varlgant, and pay him for two stallions he’s holding for me. They’re a gift from the Brotherhood for a noblewoman in Ellohyin, north of here a ways. She’s done us a service and we always pay our debts.
“Before you come back with them, though, there’s something else I’d like you to look into. I’ve been hearing rumours about problems at a mine a little further up the valley, north of a town called Lucky Lode. Nothing specific, just some odd injuries. Check it out. Before you leave Ganesford, you might want to look up Rauf Toldner; he’s the guild captain of the miners here in town, and he might have heard more than me. You can trust him; he’s a good man.
“A couple of housekeeping details. First, among the Brethren we are all equals, but every mission needs a leader; otherwise you’ll dissolve into a mob at the first sword-stroke and you’ll be lost. Our tradition is that leadership among Brothers falls by lot. Therefore, cast the dice and determine who is to be charged with leadership of the Party in the matter of Varlgnt’s stallions; and who is to be charged with investigating the rumours about Lucky Lode and the mines.
“Second, since you’ll be back this way soon, there’s no need to make your tithes to this Chapter House today, unless of course you have a burning desire to rid yourself of some coin. But I’ll expect an accounting when you return with the horses. And if you’re looking for a worthy charity in town for that part of your obligation, Brother Fanwaith at the house of the Hand is an honest man, and his healers do good work. One of them saved one of that fool wizard’s shovelmen a week or so ago. They aren’t of our order, but they’re worthy, and could use the money.
“I hope that’s all clear. I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I failed to enjoin you to remember your oath and your obligations: loyalty to Brotherhood, courage in battle, and mercy to the helpless. Leave nothing evil or unexplained in your path.
“Before I forget, there’s something happening tonight that I’d like you all to see – a special event for a pisspot little burg like Ganesford. And I’d like to buy you a drink. So come along and join me for the nightmeal at the Tankard at dusk. It’s the big inn just the other side of the Square; you can’t miss the sign. Incidentally, given what I think we’re going to hear tonight, we’ll forego The Tale; but you should all get into your books when you have the chance, and peruse what you find there. You’re all new, and you have much to learn.
* * * * *
Evening in town comes, by contrast, with more light, more cheer, and considerably more noise. As the party tucked into the hearty fare bearing down their trenchers (and banked the fires of spice with foaming mugs of local ale, happy to have left the cider of Bornhavn behind them), they eyed the teeming humanity roundabouts: miners with black dust of their trade ground into the creases under their eyes stumbling over shit-smelling farmhands eager to spend a week’s wages on a night’s debauchery; drovers jostling against caravan teamsters, sizing each other up for the fight that would be inevitable once both sides were sufficiently lubricated; a gaudy merchant and his equally gaudy whores seated next to, and contrasting wildly with, a trio of solemn Servants of Vara, the Healing Hand black against robes of grey; and all around and among them, the flotsam and jetsam of Erutrei. Scores of the local people provided the backdrop against which more unusual characters were unusually obvious. A Gnomish tinker, fiddling with some unidentifiable gadget; three men of the Watch tossing dice in a corner and throwing back outsized piggins of some sort of locally-distilled horror; a richly-attired, dark-skinned Shadelven maiden of extraordinary beauty, surrounded by a host of grim-faced, heavily-armed attendants; a fanged, bewhiskered caravan guard with more than a jot of the Uruk in his lineage, who gnawed absently on a partially-cooked leg of something-or-other; two gentlemen adventurers of the Holbytlan persuasion, attracting more than their fair share of attention by arguing over ownership of a purse that obviously belonged to neither of them; and various and sundry other denizens of Anuru, that wash up nightly on the shores of the Great Road.
Thus it ran, and the audience was captivated by every word, locked into an involuntary, inescapable embrace by the Master’s rumbling eloquence. Such was the power of his song that none noticed when his accompanists joined in with horn, drums and bells; these remained far in the background, the merest hint of honey-glaze layered imperceptibly upon the incomparable confection of Harwéac’s masterpiece. In his words, they saw the incomparable beauty of the precious gemwork of the Underfolk; felt rivers of gold flowing through their fingers; and heard the slow, unbearably heavy heartbeat of the Mountain.
One of the farmhands, a dolt named Dellrimple, who passed his days shovelling horseshit for one of Varlgant’s overseers, had never learned a single letter of the complex Dwarven tongue; and yet the next day, the stablemaster overheard him muttering the exact words of Harwéac’s ballad under his breath; in a tuneless baritone, perhaps, but with an accent that would have marked him instantly as a denizen of the Deeprealm. And yet he had no idea what he was singing. Such was the especial magic of Harwéac Hargóin, Gamolfeax-láruw, the Great Teacher, Master Chanter of Nondelvin.
None knew how long the song lasted; they only knew when it was over, because Harwéac was sitting still and silent, his hoary head bowed nearly to his breast, the plaits of his long, silvery beard lying coiled on his knees. The muted thunder of the tambor had faded, and the hall held its collective breath. No one moved; all were hoping that it was merely a pause, but they knew that it was not, for they could see that Harwéac had spent himself for them. For the briefest of moments, each man and woman in the audience felt as though the Lantern had been extinguished forever, and all would henceforth be doomed to live in eternal darkness; and at the same time, none feared any darkness that could produce such a singer as this.
A vast sigh gathered, and from more than one eye, tears fell like silent rain. Two of the Servants of Vara were praying, eyes cast down, their lips moving soundlessly; the hobbit adventurers stood spellbound, the purloined purse forgotten on the floor between them; and even the regal Shaldelven maiden sat motionless, a stunned but appreciative smile fixed upon her glistening lips, while her retainers blinked owlishly, as if emerging from a deep slumber.
So sat they all – until the Master Chanter’s spell was broken by a sudden, deep-throated cheering and thunderous, one-man applause. The half-Orc caravan guard was an ardent aficionado of all things musical, and liked a good tune, especially one with martial overtones. Harwéac’s song was, in his educated opinion, the finest thing ever written or performed since the dawn of time. Never one to refrain from physical expressions of approval, in a moment he was capering and clapping wildly, his matted hair swirling around his scabrous head, and saliva flying from his fangs as he swung his half-eaten lamb shank in glorious tribute, forgetting his badly-accented Common in his excitement, and yelling, “Multe, multe, mai multă!” in his barbarous mother tongue.
Harwéac raised his head and smiled at this heartfelt tribute from such an unexpected quarter. He nodded acknowledgement and thanks at Krumlich’s frantic gestures and grunts of approval. The half-Orc’s antics quickly lifted the awed paralysis gripping the crowd, leading first to laughter, and then to cheers and applause. One of the old dwarf’s assistants leaned down and whispered in his ear; Harwéac shook his head slowly and motioned to be helped to his feet. The horn player took the old dwarf’s other arm, and the trio began to shuffle slowly back to the guest room.
The third assistant, bearing his rack of bells, waved for silence, and the crowd, and even Krumlich, gradually subsided. “Many apologies,” the dwarf said, his deep voice thickly accented, “but that is all for tonight. The Master is very tired, and tomorrow we must resume our travels. He thanks you for your most kind welcome, and has asked that I wish you, as we say in our tongue, hléowne ysen, ælceald ýð – ‘hot iron and cold mead on the morrow’.” With that, the fourth dwarf bowed and followed the other three to the back of the inn, pursued by thunderous applause.
* * * * *
After the Dwarves had left the dining hall, Olgin bid the Party good evening and left. Lyra, hoping to find out more about the mysterious dark spectator, approached the Shadelven woman, smiling her way past the bodyguards. Before she could speak, however, the dark elf fixed her with her gaze and stopped her in her tracks; and Lyra simply stood, dumbly fascinated, while the Shadelf gathered up her entourage and returned to her suite.
While this was going on, Gwen slipped out of the crowd, snagged a look at the registry behind the front desk, and located the room that had been rented out to Oras Rathorn. The lock on the door was no match for her nimble fingers, and she was inside in two shakes of a manticore’s tail. Some hurried rummaging yielded a few maps, several books and Rathorn’s cloak, then she slipped back out in silence and returned to the Party.
They spent the night at the Chapter House under Olgin’s eye – all except for Bjorn, who luxuriated beneath a down-stuffed tick, and fell asleep looking forward to the traditional Zaran fried breakfast, and another decadent rosewater bath, on the morrow.
* * * * *
The Town of Ganesford
1. Sweetvale Tavern (Link Weathers: Average, Cheap)
Very pleasant fellow, caters mostly to farmers and travellers. Average quality, low cost. Remembers Oras Rathorn and party; they turned their noses up at his accommodations.
2. Traveller’s Rest Inn (Mance Mandrill: Good, Expensive)
Supercilious, officious, very busy; greedy. Very nice accommodations but three times normal cost. Remembers Oras as a reliable paying customer with a large party (Wizard, Apprentice, Factor, three geographers). Still has a lot of Rathorn’s dunnage locked up but won’t release it until back-lease is paid on rooms and supplies provided to the party (225 gp).
3. Smithy (Elgor Nale)
Taciturn but not unpleasant. Mostly does tools. Not good with weapons or armour, but covers up inability by being gruff. Wife is Selma Nale, very attractive; haunts the town’s bars and flirts with anything male (inevitably results in conflict with husband). He remembers Oras Rathorn; provided him with a dozen picks, mattocks and shovels, and two wheeled carts.
4. Tollhouse (Liam Trotter)
Enormously fat and cheerful; talkative but forgetful. Doesn’t remember anything. For a bribe, will forego recording names and crossing dates, as is his duty.
5. The Ford and Bridge
Ford is 2’ deep, easy for horses and wagons, not too hard for pedestrians, hard for small creatures like hobbits. If it is raining, difficulty level rises. There are nets spread 20’ downstream to catch anyone who loses their footing.
6. Fish Smokehouse (Llanor of Erdallen)
Exudes stench of smoked fish, but quality is high and it will keep indefinitely. Llanor is an ex-member of the Watch, and will provide any serving member with a week’s worth of dried fish rations free of charge. But boy, does he smell bad. He remembers Oras; sold him 6 barrels of smoked Giltscales a month back.
7. Miner’s Guildhouse (Guild Captain Rauf Toldner)
Rauf Toldner is a retired hard rock miner from Lucky Lode; he still has contacts there and has heard rumours of trouble in the mines. He knows Rathorn quite well; asked for “every experienced miner I could lay my hands on”. Thought Rathorn was a fool; he offered meagre pay and “a share in the profits”
8. Mining Supplies Store (Parag Sakonure)
Parag is a Half-Elf from Celenora, a long way from home. He is reasonably friendly but expects money up front; Rathorn cleaned him out and still owes him more than 500 gold for tools, rope, torches, lumber and so on.
9. Merchant’s Manor (Lars Telchin)
Telchin is a grasping, greedy absentee landlord who normally lives at his castle in Bitterberg. His manor is usually empty and locked; there is only a 20% chance per week that he will drop by. His Seneschal, Yancey Mealerger, comes by a few days in advance to open the place and air it out.
10. General Merchandise (Lars Telchin, owner)
The store is run by Ulgric Bugbane, a half-orc Warrior 6 who keeps this job to remain respectable (nobody messes with one of Telchin’s people) and pay the rent. He lives here, receives shipments of goods from the north, and sells them to all comers. He is rude , uncouth and likes teasing people, but hasn’t had to fight in quite a while. Any violence against him will eventually result in a visit from some far worse people on behalf of Sieur Telchin.
11. Gane’s Tankard Tavern (Alonon Payne: Good, Expensive)
Alonon Payne runs a good, but overpriced, establishment. The gentry come here to impress each other; smarter folk go elsewhere for better food at lower prices. He remembers Rathorn, who had a standing account at the Tavern, and whose tab (for fine brandies and delicacies) stands at 181 gp, 9 sp and 4 pennies. Rathorn's room is at the front of the lower floor, and has not been disturbed (except by the bucket boy) since Rathorn last slept there a week ago. It contains his maps, a large number of journals and books, some cash, and his cloak.
12. Market Hall
A large, open-walled timber structure with a thatched roof and room for two dozen market stands. Open on weekday mornings for food market; Great Market on Sian Barraj. Most common equipment items can be bought on the weekend market day.
13. House of the Hand (Gyle Fanwaith, Cleric 8, Vara)
Gyle Fanwaith is a competent cleric and an expert healer; he has three 2nd-level apprentices. One of them (Eloan Wood) was at Rathorn’s camp last week to treat a worker who had had a large stone crush his foot. Wood thinks that Rathorn is a tyrant and a fool.
14. General Store (Danik of Dunholm, Halfling)
Danik of Dunholm is a clever businessman that sells excellent quality goods and specializes in hard-to-find items. He will report that Rathorn owes him 200 gp for spell components, but will add that “It doesn’t really matter, since I made twice that off him in profit already”. One of the ingredients he provided was a special mixture of earth, sand and loam in small silk bags (Spellcraft DC 15: “Move Earth” components).
15. Malryn Olgin (Retired Fighter 11)
Olgin is a retired fighter who is living off his earnings and enjoying his retirement as a hunter, general problem-solver and local celebrity (he is famous for having killed a giant bear with a tree branch some years ago). He is also the local Superior Brother of the Brotherhood of Wyrms. This is the fellow that the exiled Watchmen are expected to contact. Olgin will treat them as seasoned professionals, explain the codes, rules and benefits, and order them to investigate the rumours that Toldner, Guild Captain of the Miner’s Guild, has heard about in Lucky Lode. They are also ordered to pick up a brace of fine stallions in Bymill and bring them back to Ganesford, before delivering them to the house of a noblewoman and friend of the Order in Ellohyin. But more on that when they return with the horses.
16. Leatherworks (Eldred Wainstik, leathercrafter)
Eldred Wainstik is an associate of Sharoom Pardo, the Bornhavn leathercrafter. He contracted with Rathorn for a variety of leather products, and is still awaiting payment on a bill of “several hundred crowns.”
17. Meat Market (Olgar and Olga Thorssen, butchers)
Fair merchants, who have never heard of Oras Rathorn. But they do have kin in Søby, south of Ellohyin, who operate a cattle farm – and last week, a herd of cattle being driven south to Ganesford (and supposed to go on to Bymill) went missing on the Nordvej, somewhere between Steenby and Ganesford. They theorize that a band of Orcs may be running a cattle rustling operation somewhere in the hills.
18. Hardin’s Hammer Tavern (Tug Wylkyn, ex-miner; very rough, very cheap)
Tug Wylkyn is a retired Warrior 4 who served 20 years in the Guards in Ellohyin. He knows the city like the back of his hand, and has contacts in the Elloyhin underworld. He runs a very rough, very cheap place that the local miners like. The rumours about the Phoenix Mine at Lucky Lode have reached this tavern; one or two of the patrons will tell a tale that arrived only this week, about a miner’s corpse being found, bitten in half at the waist.
19. Shrine to Vara (small)
This is a small, one-room shrine built out of the local limestone, with a thatched roof. It is maintained by Fanwaith and his apprentices, and like all shrines to Vara, it contains a large, carved stone vessel of water that is Blessed daily, and that petitioners toss coins into (at any time it will contain 1d100 copper, 1d20 silver and 1d4 gold pieces). It is not policed or patrolled, but during day there is an 8 in 20 chance that someone will be praying here (the chance drops to 1 in 20 after dark). This is a Consecrated location for Vara, her Servants and her Avatars.
20. Leagor of Ellohyin – retired expert historian (K-Hist 22), Reeve of Ganesford
Leagor is an elderly human who lives for books. Once the Chief Librarian to the Count of Ellohyin, he gave up his sinecure a decade ago and built a quiet home here on the banks of the Sweetvale River, filling it with fine furnishings and books. He is compiling a comprehensive history of Zare, and is presently writing Volume 16 (volumes 1 through 15 are available at the Bookbinder’s, for 100 gp per book – each one takes a month to read, and will give the reader +1 Knowledge-History). His knowledge is encyclopaedic, to the point that it is difficult to keep him from diverging into tangents. He knows Oras Rathorn, but dismisses him as “an amateur – a typical wizard, more concerned with twiddlings and twinklings than actually KNOWING anything.” They squabbled over an ancient book in Leagor’s possession (the Varata Ikivanha Maailma, a Draconian text, the “Book of the Ancient World”). Leagor will part with it for 1000 GP (Oras offered him that amount, but promised only 250 gp in advance and the remainder “in a few months”). Studying the book uninterrupted for 1 month will give the reader an inherent bonus on Knowledge(History) checks of +5.
21. Scrivener’s Shop (Iltoeyna Paloyina, Elven Expert Calligrapher 16)
Iltoeyna is an Elvish calligrapher, magnificent with the pen. She hired the copyists to produce Leagor’s magnum opus, and illuminated them herself. She also produced a number of detailed maps of the banks of the Sweetvale between Ganesford and Bornhavn for Oras; he still owes her “more than 100 gold” for the work.
22. Bookbinder’s Shop (Royaur Desfitylna, Elven Expert Bookbinder 14)
Royaur is an associate of Iltoeyna’s, and a solid devotee of Leagor’s writing. He has nothing but praise for the sage, and shares his contempt for Rathorn’s “lack of historical knowledge.”
Today’s subject is the town of Ganesford. Ganesford is pretty much a one-horse whistle stop whose only reason for existence is the fact that it’s located at the easiest place to cross the Sweetvale River, one of the major tributaries of the Stjerneflåde. The Sweetvale is cold, fast and in most places deep, but it shallows out where it has to cross the granite escarpment that parallels the great river and the Nordvej. There’s no bridge here and no need for one; the Sweetvale never gets above two feet deep even during the spring thaws, and while the bones tend to chill in the crossing, there are warm fires and cold ale to be had on both sides.
You’ll recall that, on 12 Lastreap, the newcomers (Bjorn and Lyra) joined the rump of the original Party (Breygon, Gwen, Joraz and Greywind) at the site of the earthquake, near the broken temple of Karg. They also met Ankallys of Vejborg, who was busily scrabbling in the detritus for signs of her master and colleagues. The follow day they entered the temple, and scared up some of its denizens; and Ankallys provoked a major crisis by breaking into the tomb of the former high priest, resulting in a wave of Allips that was only resolved when Bjorn agreed to be possessed by the Ghost of Ekruhalagar.
Well, as you know, the Party survived, but seeing as how there was a town only a mile or so up the road, they didn’t feel like spending the night sleeping in tents. They mounted up, rode for Ganesford, and reached the south bank of the Sweetvale by mid-afternoon. They took rooms at the Traveler’s Rest Inn (see below) and slept the night. The following morning, 14 Lastreap, they crossed the Sweetvale and entered the town proper, and began looking around, trying to find out where their designated contact, Malryn Olgin, lived. Gwen and Joraz dropped in on Eldred Wainstik, the leatherworker, while Breygon, Lyra and Greywind visited Telchin Manor – only to discover that Sieur Telchin had a Half-Orc door-warden, an inauspicious occurrence given Breygon’s choice of favoured enemies.
Bjorn took the wagon, with the comatose Ankallys aboard, to find the Temple of the Hand, and made the acquaintance of Gyle Fanwaith, Priest of the Healing Hand, and his acolyte, Eloan Wood. They advised Bjorn, much to their regret, that they did not have the skill or power to restore Ankallys’ mind, but they further informed him that the Fist of the Allfather in Bymill stood high in his church’s hierarchy, and could no doubt perform the necessary rites. In the meantime, they agreed to take Ankallys under their care while the Party was in Ganesford.
By this time, Gwen and Joraz had figured out where Olgin lived. The Party met at the town square, then sauntered over to his house and banged on the door. They were admitted by his housekeepers and greeted by the Master himself, both sides repeating the Draconic incantation to prove their bona fides. Bjorn was invited to take a seat in an antechamber, with apologies for the necessary secrecy, while the Brothers met to discuss the way ahead.
Olgin then gave the rest of the Party a tour of the Chapter House – a modest affair, but one that contained all of the requisite areas and amenities for such a small place as Ganesford. He then sat them down in the kitchen for tea and cakes, and gave them their mission.
“Take a look at this map I’ve had drawn up for you,” he said. “I apologize for the garish colours; the only scribe in town here is excellent, but he’s an Elf, and you can’t part him from his paint-pots.
Olgin then gave the rest of the Party a tour of the Chapter House – a modest affair, but one that contained all of the requisite areas and amenities for such a small place as Ganesford. He then sat them down in the kitchen for tea and cakes, and gave them their mission.
“Take a look at this map I’ve had drawn up for you,” he said. “I apologize for the garish colours; the only scribe in town here is excellent, but he’s an Elf, and you can’t part him from his paint-pots.
“Here’s what I want you to do. Travel west, up the valley, until you get to Bymill. There’s a horse trader there, name of Varlgant, and pay him for two stallions he’s holding for me. They’re a gift from the Brotherhood for a noblewoman in Ellohyin, north of here a ways. She’s done us a service and we always pay our debts.“Before you come back with them, though, there’s something else I’d like you to look into. I’ve been hearing rumours about problems at a mine a little further up the valley, north of a town called Lucky Lode. Nothing specific, just some odd injuries. Check it out. Before you leave Ganesford, you might want to look up Rauf Toldner; he’s the guild captain of the miners here in town, and he might have heard more than me. You can trust him; he’s a good man.
“A couple of housekeeping details. First, among the Brethren we are all equals, but every mission needs a leader; otherwise you’ll dissolve into a mob at the first sword-stroke and you’ll be lost. Our tradition is that leadership among Brothers falls by lot. Therefore, cast the dice and determine who is to be charged with leadership of the Party in the matter of Varlgnt’s stallions; and who is to be charged with investigating the rumours about Lucky Lode and the mines.
“Second, since you’ll be back this way soon, there’s no need to make your tithes to this Chapter House today, unless of course you have a burning desire to rid yourself of some coin. But I’ll expect an accounting when you return with the horses. And if you’re looking for a worthy charity in town for that part of your obligation, Brother Fanwaith at the house of the Hand is an honest man, and his healers do good work. One of them saved one of that fool wizard’s shovelmen a week or so ago. They aren’t of our order, but they’re worthy, and could use the money.
“I hope that’s all clear. I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I failed to enjoin you to remember your oath and your obligations: loyalty to Brotherhood, courage in battle, and mercy to the helpless. Leave nothing evil or unexplained in your path.
“Before I forget, there’s something happening tonight that I’d like you all to see – a special event for a pisspot little burg like Ganesford. And I’d like to buy you a drink. So come along and join me for the nightmeal at the Tankard at dusk. It’s the big inn just the other side of the Square; you can’t miss the sign. Incidentally, given what I think we’re going to hear tonight, we’ll forego The Tale; but you should all get into your books when you have the chance, and peruse what you find there. You’re all new, and you have much to learn.
“By the way, bring your big friend, the priest; I like the look of him. I’m going to send word to the Hiltmark in Ellohyin; once you get there drop in and see him. He may elect to bring your friend aboard. The Fists of Esu are always welcome among us.
“Speaking of Ellohyin, with any luck, you’ll be there in time for the Solemnity of Harad. It’s the single most important day in the calendar of the Brotherhood, and the Ellohyin Chapter House is a far better place to celebrate than this modest accommodation.”
“Well, that’s enough from me. Make yourselves free of this house; elsewise, I’ll see you at the Tankard at dusk.”
With that, Olgin went back to his study, leaving the Party to their own devices. They split up again and spent the afternoon checking out different parts of the town. They first went back to the Traveler’s Rest, recovered their wagon and horses, and moved them to Olgin’s house – except for Bjorn, who took a room at the Tankard and spent the afternoon soaking in an oak tub full of rosewater.
Gwen went shopping and made the acquaintance of Dannik of Dunholm at his general goods emporium. Intrigued at meeting another Halfling, she spent some time in conversation with Dannik and learned many interesting things about the town and its inhabitants. Most interesting, however, was the fact that Dannik was still owed 200 GP by the wizard Oras Rathorn for a truly bizarre special order: a hundred small silk bags containing a mixture of earth and fine clay. Gwen looked one of these over, but couldn’t figure out what they were for.
Meanwhile, Lyra, Breygon and Joraz ambled over to the Hardin’s Hammer Tavern, looking for Guild Captain Toldner. Being the sort of establishment it was, there was no shortage of patrons even in mid-afternoon, and Lyra wasted no time trying her wiles on the cadre of drunks, endeavouring to charm some information out of them, while Breygon and Joraz hung back nervously, waiting for the inevitable fight to break out. They learned a little bit more about the goings-on at Lucky Lode – about miners being brought out of the deepest pits, babbling about “monsters”, with weird, triangular bite marks on their legs and arms.
After a few near misses fight-wise, the three left the Hammer, returning to the town square, where they met up with Gwen and headed for the Tankard, joining up with Bjorn at the vast – and already very busy – dining hall.
“Speaking of Ellohyin, with any luck, you’ll be there in time for the Solemnity of Harad. It’s the single most important day in the calendar of the Brotherhood, and the Ellohyin Chapter House is a far better place to celebrate than this modest accommodation.”
“Well, that’s enough from me. Make yourselves free of this house; elsewise, I’ll see you at the Tankard at dusk.”
With that, Olgin went back to his study, leaving the Party to their own devices. They split up again and spent the afternoon checking out different parts of the town. They first went back to the Traveler’s Rest, recovered their wagon and horses, and moved them to Olgin’s house – except for Bjorn, who took a room at the Tankard and spent the afternoon soaking in an oak tub full of rosewater.
Gwen went shopping and made the acquaintance of Dannik of Dunholm at his general goods emporium. Intrigued at meeting another Halfling, she spent some time in conversation with Dannik and learned many interesting things about the town and its inhabitants. Most interesting, however, was the fact that Dannik was still owed 200 GP by the wizard Oras Rathorn for a truly bizarre special order: a hundred small silk bags containing a mixture of earth and fine clay. Gwen looked one of these over, but couldn’t figure out what they were for.
Meanwhile, Lyra, Breygon and Joraz ambled over to the Hardin’s Hammer Tavern, looking for Guild Captain Toldner. Being the sort of establishment it was, there was no shortage of patrons even in mid-afternoon, and Lyra wasted no time trying her wiles on the cadre of drunks, endeavouring to charm some information out of them, while Breygon and Joraz hung back nervously, waiting for the inevitable fight to break out. They learned a little bit more about the goings-on at Lucky Lode – about miners being brought out of the deepest pits, babbling about “monsters”, with weird, triangular bite marks on their legs and arms.
After a few near misses fight-wise, the three left the Hammer, returning to the town square, where they met up with Gwen and headed for the Tankard, joining up with Bjorn at the vast – and already very busy – dining hall.
Olgin joined them there as the sun was going down, and the six dined in companionable silence. Breygon and Lyra both found themselves noticing an odd occupant of one of the busy tables: a dark-skinned, white-haired woman of obvious Shadelven origins, surrounded by a coterie of ladies-in-waiting and hulking bodyguards. Their attention was diverted, however, when a half-dozen elderly dwarves shambled out of the shadows, led by an extraordinarily ancient and decrepit dwarf bearing a traditional iron tambour.
The tale of what happened next is recounted in one of the synopses given the Party after the event.
The tale of what happened next is recounted in one of the synopses given the Party after the event.
* * * * *Harweac
Night comes early in the Bjerglands in autumn. Breadan drops behind the western peaks, and the weary farmer homeward wends his way, picking his steps carefully across the furrows, heading unerringly for the welcoming firelight in the doorway, a simple meal, and a mug of something cheering. The chill of evening settles into the branches, browning leaves and hearts with trepidation at the nearness of another mountain winter.
Night comes early in the Bjerglands in autumn. Breadan drops behind the western peaks, and the weary farmer homeward wends his way, picking his steps carefully across the furrows, heading unerringly for the welcoming firelight in the doorway, a simple meal, and a mug of something cheering. The chill of evening settles into the branches, browning leaves and hearts with trepidation at the nearness of another mountain winter.
Evening in town comes, by contrast, with more light, more cheer, and considerably more noise. As the party tucked into the hearty fare bearing down their trenchers (and banked the fires of spice with foaming mugs of local ale, happy to have left the cider of Bornhavn behind them), they eyed the teeming humanity roundabouts: miners with black dust of their trade ground into the creases under their eyes stumbling over shit-smelling farmhands eager to spend a week’s wages on a night’s debauchery; drovers jostling against caravan teamsters, sizing each other up for the fight that would be inevitable once both sides were sufficiently lubricated; a gaudy merchant and his equally gaudy whores seated next to, and contrasting wildly with, a trio of solemn Servants of Vara, the Healing Hand black against robes of grey; and all around and among them, the flotsam and jetsam of Erutrei. Scores of the local people provided the backdrop against which more unusual characters were unusually obvious. A Gnomish tinker, fiddling with some unidentifiable gadget; three men of the Watch tossing dice in a corner and throwing back outsized piggins of some sort of locally-distilled horror; a richly-attired, dark-skinned Shadelven maiden of extraordinary beauty, surrounded by a host of grim-faced, heavily-armed attendants; a fanged, bewhiskered caravan guard with more than a jot of the Uruk in his lineage, who gnawed absently on a partially-cooked leg of something-or-other; two gentlemen adventurers of the Holbytlan persuasion, attracting more than their fair share of attention by arguing over ownership of a purse that obviously belonged to neither of them; and various and sundry other denizens of Anuru, that wash up nightly on the shores of the Great Road.
Tenscore faces, tenscore stories; but that night, they all had one thing in common: they had come to hear Harwéac, the venerable and world-renowned Dwarven chanter. Word had gone around that the old fellow was on his last pilgrimage from the Deeprealm to Vejborg, to visit Leif Ironfist, his old comrade-in-arms, upon his deathbed. It was said that he had sworn that on this, his last journey, he would sing of nothing but the deeds of his friend, and of their blood-brothers long dead, and their many triumphs and sorrows. Such was the rumour of Harwéac’s skill that those who came to listen were content to hear whatever tale he might choose to tell.
A door opened at the rear of the tavern, and the roar of conversation faded into chatter, and then to a low murmur. The old dwarf appeared from one of the inn’s guest rooms and shuffled into the firelight, accompanied and assisted by a trio of apprentices – each of them a virtuoso in his own right who could have made his fortune in the wider world, had he been willing to leave the side of the Master. At the front of the room, near the hearth, Harwéac settled his old bones slowly into a tailor’s seat on a simple chaff-filled cushion laid on bare stones, while his assistants formed a standing semi-circle behind him. The instruments they held were strange to most of the onlookers: a set of iron bars riveted to a heavy metal frame, and played with tiny bronze hammers; thin-walled stone bowls with covers of animal skin stretched and tightened with thongs; a long, narrow horn that wound around and around the player’s neck, gradually forming into a gleaming, hammered bell, engraved with intertwined serpents and dragons. Harwéac himself bore nothing more than a simple tambor of hide stretched on an unadorned wood and metal frame, and a broad bronze striking paddle, worn smooth and gleaming by long use.
Silence fell; a respectful silence formed in equal parts of anticipation and curiosity. None of those in the tavern that night had ever heard Harwéac’s voice before; nor was there any who had failed to hear his name. Into the well of that silence, the ancient dwarf, without a word of explanation or introduction, plunged like a spelunker bent on exploring caverns and subterranean vistas never before seen. With short, arrhythmic strokes of his bronze rod on the taut skin of the tambor, he evoked a slow, deep rumble, as of long ages spent beneath the Earth. Almost imperceptibly, he joined his heavy voice to the song of the drum, layering words onto the rhythm like the tumble of stones against the deep heartbeat of a mountain.
Ic áwrecan ymbe æðeling;
æðeling isengrǽg, ísenheard
Isenfýst, carlmann, gástberend, gumþegen,
Isenfýst, ceorlmann, guma Ekhanni
I-Esu yrfeweard, I-Esu gástsunu,
Isenfýst, gígantmæcg,
ǽgðer fréond, gebróðra mé.
Ic áwrecan æscþracu, níðweorc, gárgewinn;
Ic áwrecan æsctír, gúðsweord átǽsan...
(Editor’s Note: This is the song Léoð ymbe Isenfýst, “The Lay of Ironfist”, which may be found in the Tales of the Wyrm, and has been published elsewhere on this blog.)
Those in the audience familiar with the speech of the Deeprealm heard the words, and understood them; those who did not merely listened, spellbound, captivated by the rhythm. No one attempted to render the words into the Common Tongue, for any translation could only cheapen the Master Chanter’s incomparable composition.
Ic áwrecan ymbe æðeling;
æðeling isengrǽg, ísenheard
Isenfýst, carlmann, gástberend, gumþegen,
Isenfýst, ceorlmann, guma Ekhanni
I-Esu yrfeweard, I-Esu gástsunu,
Isenfýst, gígantmæcg,
ǽgðer fréond, gebróðra mé.
Ic áwrecan æscþracu, níðweorc, gárgewinn;
Ic áwrecan æsctír, gúðsweord átǽsan...
(Editor’s Note: This is the song Léoð ymbe Isenfýst, “The Lay of Ironfist”, which may be found in the Tales of the Wyrm, and has been published elsewhere on this blog.)
Those in the audience familiar with the speech of the Deeprealm heard the words, and understood them; those who did not merely listened, spellbound, captivated by the rhythm. No one attempted to render the words into the Common Tongue, for any translation could only cheapen the Master Chanter’s incomparable composition.
Thus it ran, and the audience was captivated by every word, locked into an involuntary, inescapable embrace by the Master’s rumbling eloquence. Such was the power of his song that none noticed when his accompanists joined in with horn, drums and bells; these remained far in the background, the merest hint of honey-glaze layered imperceptibly upon the incomparable confection of Harwéac’s masterpiece. In his words, they saw the incomparable beauty of the precious gemwork of the Underfolk; felt rivers of gold flowing through their fingers; and heard the slow, unbearably heavy heartbeat of the Mountain.
One of the farmhands, a dolt named Dellrimple, who passed his days shovelling horseshit for one of Varlgant’s overseers, had never learned a single letter of the complex Dwarven tongue; and yet the next day, the stablemaster overheard him muttering the exact words of Harwéac’s ballad under his breath; in a tuneless baritone, perhaps, but with an accent that would have marked him instantly as a denizen of the Deeprealm. And yet he had no idea what he was singing. Such was the especial magic of Harwéac Hargóin, Gamolfeax-láruw, the Great Teacher, Master Chanter of Nondelvin.
None knew how long the song lasted; they only knew when it was over, because Harwéac was sitting still and silent, his hoary head bowed nearly to his breast, the plaits of his long, silvery beard lying coiled on his knees. The muted thunder of the tambor had faded, and the hall held its collective breath. No one moved; all were hoping that it was merely a pause, but they knew that it was not, for they could see that Harwéac had spent himself for them. For the briefest of moments, each man and woman in the audience felt as though the Lantern had been extinguished forever, and all would henceforth be doomed to live in eternal darkness; and at the same time, none feared any darkness that could produce such a singer as this.
A vast sigh gathered, and from more than one eye, tears fell like silent rain. Two of the Servants of Vara were praying, eyes cast down, their lips moving soundlessly; the hobbit adventurers stood spellbound, the purloined purse forgotten on the floor between them; and even the regal Shaldelven maiden sat motionless, a stunned but appreciative smile fixed upon her glistening lips, while her retainers blinked owlishly, as if emerging from a deep slumber.
So sat they all – until the Master Chanter’s spell was broken by a sudden, deep-throated cheering and thunderous, one-man applause. The half-Orc caravan guard was an ardent aficionado of all things musical, and liked a good tune, especially one with martial overtones. Harwéac’s song was, in his educated opinion, the finest thing ever written or performed since the dawn of time. Never one to refrain from physical expressions of approval, in a moment he was capering and clapping wildly, his matted hair swirling around his scabrous head, and saliva flying from his fangs as he swung his half-eaten lamb shank in glorious tribute, forgetting his badly-accented Common in his excitement, and yelling, “Multe, multe, mai multă!” in his barbarous mother tongue.
Harwéac raised his head and smiled at this heartfelt tribute from such an unexpected quarter. He nodded acknowledgement and thanks at Krumlich’s frantic gestures and grunts of approval. The half-Orc’s antics quickly lifted the awed paralysis gripping the crowd, leading first to laughter, and then to cheers and applause. One of the old dwarf’s assistants leaned down and whispered in his ear; Harwéac shook his head slowly and motioned to be helped to his feet. The horn player took the old dwarf’s other arm, and the trio began to shuffle slowly back to the guest room.
The third assistant, bearing his rack of bells, waved for silence, and the crowd, and even Krumlich, gradually subsided. “Many apologies,” the dwarf said, his deep voice thickly accented, “but that is all for tonight. The Master is very tired, and tomorrow we must resume our travels. He thanks you for your most kind welcome, and has asked that I wish you, as we say in our tongue, hléowne ysen, ælceald ýð – ‘hot iron and cold mead on the morrow’.” With that, the fourth dwarf bowed and followed the other three to the back of the inn, pursued by thunderous applause.
* * * * *
After the Dwarves had left the dining hall, Olgin bid the Party good evening and left. Lyra, hoping to find out more about the mysterious dark spectator, approached the Shadelven woman, smiling her way past the bodyguards. Before she could speak, however, the dark elf fixed her with her gaze and stopped her in her tracks; and Lyra simply stood, dumbly fascinated, while the Shadelf gathered up her entourage and returned to her suite.
While this was going on, Gwen slipped out of the crowd, snagged a look at the registry behind the front desk, and located the room that had been rented out to Oras Rathorn. The lock on the door was no match for her nimble fingers, and she was inside in two shakes of a manticore’s tail. Some hurried rummaging yielded a few maps, several books and Rathorn’s cloak, then she slipped back out in silence and returned to the Party.
They spent the night at the Chapter House under Olgin’s eye – all except for Bjorn, who luxuriated beneath a down-stuffed tick, and fell asleep looking forward to the traditional Zaran fried breakfast, and another decadent rosewater bath, on the morrow.
* * * * *
The Town of Ganesford
1. Sweetvale Tavern (Link Weathers: Average, Cheap)
Very pleasant fellow, caters mostly to farmers and travellers. Average quality, low cost. Remembers Oras Rathorn and party; they turned their noses up at his accommodations.
2. Traveller’s Rest Inn (Mance Mandrill: Good, Expensive)
Supercilious, officious, very busy; greedy. Very nice accommodations but three times normal cost. Remembers Oras as a reliable paying customer with a large party (Wizard, Apprentice, Factor, three geographers). Still has a lot of Rathorn’s dunnage locked up but won’t release it until back-lease is paid on rooms and supplies provided to the party (225 gp).
3. Smithy (Elgor Nale)
Taciturn but not unpleasant. Mostly does tools. Not good with weapons or armour, but covers up inability by being gruff. Wife is Selma Nale, very attractive; haunts the town’s bars and flirts with anything male (inevitably results in conflict with husband). He remembers Oras Rathorn; provided him with a dozen picks, mattocks and shovels, and two wheeled carts.
4. Tollhouse (Liam Trotter)
Enormously fat and cheerful; talkative but forgetful. Doesn’t remember anything. For a bribe, will forego recording names and crossing dates, as is his duty.
5. The Ford and Bridge
Ford is 2’ deep, easy for horses and wagons, not too hard for pedestrians, hard for small creatures like hobbits. If it is raining, difficulty level rises. There are nets spread 20’ downstream to catch anyone who loses their footing.
6. Fish Smokehouse (Llanor of Erdallen)
Exudes stench of smoked fish, but quality is high and it will keep indefinitely. Llanor is an ex-member of the Watch, and will provide any serving member with a week’s worth of dried fish rations free of charge. But boy, does he smell bad. He remembers Oras; sold him 6 barrels of smoked Giltscales a month back.
7. Miner’s Guildhouse (Guild Captain Rauf Toldner)
Rauf Toldner is a retired hard rock miner from Lucky Lode; he still has contacts there and has heard rumours of trouble in the mines. He knows Rathorn quite well; asked for “every experienced miner I could lay my hands on”. Thought Rathorn was a fool; he offered meagre pay and “a share in the profits”
8. Mining Supplies Store (Parag Sakonure)
Parag is a Half-Elf from Celenora, a long way from home. He is reasonably friendly but expects money up front; Rathorn cleaned him out and still owes him more than 500 gold for tools, rope, torches, lumber and so on.
9. Merchant’s Manor (Lars Telchin)
Telchin is a grasping, greedy absentee landlord who normally lives at his castle in Bitterberg. His manor is usually empty and locked; there is only a 20% chance per week that he will drop by. His Seneschal, Yancey Mealerger, comes by a few days in advance to open the place and air it out.
10. General Merchandise (Lars Telchin, owner)
The store is run by Ulgric Bugbane, a half-orc Warrior 6 who keeps this job to remain respectable (nobody messes with one of Telchin’s people) and pay the rent. He lives here, receives shipments of goods from the north, and sells them to all comers. He is rude , uncouth and likes teasing people, but hasn’t had to fight in quite a while. Any violence against him will eventually result in a visit from some far worse people on behalf of Sieur Telchin.
11. Gane’s Tankard Tavern (Alonon Payne: Good, Expensive)
Alonon Payne runs a good, but overpriced, establishment. The gentry come here to impress each other; smarter folk go elsewhere for better food at lower prices. He remembers Rathorn, who had a standing account at the Tavern, and whose tab (for fine brandies and delicacies) stands at 181 gp, 9 sp and 4 pennies. Rathorn's room is at the front of the lower floor, and has not been disturbed (except by the bucket boy) since Rathorn last slept there a week ago. It contains his maps, a large number of journals and books, some cash, and his cloak.
12. Market Hall
A large, open-walled timber structure with a thatched roof and room for two dozen market stands. Open on weekday mornings for food market; Great Market on Sian Barraj. Most common equipment items can be bought on the weekend market day.
13. House of the Hand (Gyle Fanwaith, Cleric 8, Vara)
Gyle Fanwaith is a competent cleric and an expert healer; he has three 2nd-level apprentices. One of them (Eloan Wood) was at Rathorn’s camp last week to treat a worker who had had a large stone crush his foot. Wood thinks that Rathorn is a tyrant and a fool.
14. General Store (Danik of Dunholm, Halfling)
Danik of Dunholm is a clever businessman that sells excellent quality goods and specializes in hard-to-find items. He will report that Rathorn owes him 200 gp for spell components, but will add that “It doesn’t really matter, since I made twice that off him in profit already”. One of the ingredients he provided was a special mixture of earth, sand and loam in small silk bags (Spellcraft DC 15: “Move Earth” components).
15. Malryn Olgin (Retired Fighter 11)
Olgin is a retired fighter who is living off his earnings and enjoying his retirement as a hunter, general problem-solver and local celebrity (he is famous for having killed a giant bear with a tree branch some years ago). He is also the local Superior Brother of the Brotherhood of Wyrms. This is the fellow that the exiled Watchmen are expected to contact. Olgin will treat them as seasoned professionals, explain the codes, rules and benefits, and order them to investigate the rumours that Toldner, Guild Captain of the Miner’s Guild, has heard about in Lucky Lode. They are also ordered to pick up a brace of fine stallions in Bymill and bring them back to Ganesford, before delivering them to the house of a noblewoman and friend of the Order in Ellohyin. But more on that when they return with the horses.
16. Leatherworks (Eldred Wainstik, leathercrafter)
Eldred Wainstik is an associate of Sharoom Pardo, the Bornhavn leathercrafter. He contracted with Rathorn for a variety of leather products, and is still awaiting payment on a bill of “several hundred crowns.”
17. Meat Market (Olgar and Olga Thorssen, butchers)
Fair merchants, who have never heard of Oras Rathorn. But they do have kin in Søby, south of Ellohyin, who operate a cattle farm – and last week, a herd of cattle being driven south to Ganesford (and supposed to go on to Bymill) went missing on the Nordvej, somewhere between Steenby and Ganesford. They theorize that a band of Orcs may be running a cattle rustling operation somewhere in the hills.
18. Hardin’s Hammer Tavern (Tug Wylkyn, ex-miner; very rough, very cheap)
Tug Wylkyn is a retired Warrior 4 who served 20 years in the Guards in Ellohyin. He knows the city like the back of his hand, and has contacts in the Elloyhin underworld. He runs a very rough, very cheap place that the local miners like. The rumours about the Phoenix Mine at Lucky Lode have reached this tavern; one or two of the patrons will tell a tale that arrived only this week, about a miner’s corpse being found, bitten in half at the waist.
19. Shrine to Vara (small)
This is a small, one-room shrine built out of the local limestone, with a thatched roof. It is maintained by Fanwaith and his apprentices, and like all shrines to Vara, it contains a large, carved stone vessel of water that is Blessed daily, and that petitioners toss coins into (at any time it will contain 1d100 copper, 1d20 silver and 1d4 gold pieces). It is not policed or patrolled, but during day there is an 8 in 20 chance that someone will be praying here (the chance drops to 1 in 20 after dark). This is a Consecrated location for Vara, her Servants and her Avatars.
20. Leagor of Ellohyin – retired expert historian (K-Hist 22), Reeve of Ganesford
Leagor is an elderly human who lives for books. Once the Chief Librarian to the Count of Ellohyin, he gave up his sinecure a decade ago and built a quiet home here on the banks of the Sweetvale River, filling it with fine furnishings and books. He is compiling a comprehensive history of Zare, and is presently writing Volume 16 (volumes 1 through 15 are available at the Bookbinder’s, for 100 gp per book – each one takes a month to read, and will give the reader +1 Knowledge-History). His knowledge is encyclopaedic, to the point that it is difficult to keep him from diverging into tangents. He knows Oras Rathorn, but dismisses him as “an amateur – a typical wizard, more concerned with twiddlings and twinklings than actually KNOWING anything.” They squabbled over an ancient book in Leagor’s possession (the Varata Ikivanha Maailma, a Draconian text, the “Book of the Ancient World”). Leagor will part with it for 1000 GP (Oras offered him that amount, but promised only 250 gp in advance and the remainder “in a few months”). Studying the book uninterrupted for 1 month will give the reader an inherent bonus on Knowledge(History) checks of +5.
21. Scrivener’s Shop (Iltoeyna Paloyina, Elven Expert Calligrapher 16)
Iltoeyna is an Elvish calligrapher, magnificent with the pen. She hired the copyists to produce Leagor’s magnum opus, and illuminated them herself. She also produced a number of detailed maps of the banks of the Sweetvale between Ganesford and Bornhavn for Oras; he still owes her “more than 100 gold” for the work.
22. Bookbinder’s Shop (Royaur Desfitylna, Elven Expert Bookbinder 14)
Royaur is an associate of Iltoeyna’s, and a solid devotee of Leagor’s writing. He has nothing but praise for the sage, and shares his contempt for Rathorn’s “lack of historical knowledge.”
01 September 2007
The Earthquake (III): Cold Ghost-On-Ghost Action!
A little while ago, I explained how the original Party members (Breygon, Gwen, Joraz and Greywind) first linked up the their new comrades-in-arms (Bjorn and Lyra) at the site of a massive landslide. At this point, they also met Ankallys, the Wizard/Rogue who was the only survivor of Oras Rathorn’s expedition to uncover the lost temple of Karg and loot it for its artefacts. Shortly thereafter, I recounted how they entered the Broken Temple of Karg, began poking around, and stirred up a great heap of trouble.
This story picks up where the last one left off. As you may recall, while the Party was investigating the crypt door marked “Ekruhalagar” that Breygon had found, Ankallys managed to slip off on business of her own.
While Bjorn and company were attempting to jimmy the door to Ekruhalagar’s Tomb (area 8, see map, below), Ankallys tip-toed roguishly over to Area 7. As Lyra had already suspected, Ankallys knew a little more than she was telling. The relics of Ekruhalagar were only part of the reason that Rathorn had been looking for the temple. The real reason – as avid readers may remember from wa-a-a-a-a-ay back here – was to recover relics of a different nature, that had, according to a scroll recovered by Rathorn, been laid to rest with Moldukar, a priest of Karg who had been Claw of the Temple shortly before its burial. Ankallys knew precisely where to find Moldukar’s tomb, and so she snuck over, Knocked on the door to the crypt, and went in to check things out.
Meanwhile, our brave adventurers had managed to force open the door to the other crypt, and Bjorn and Lyra ventured inside, the cleric sternly warning the sorceress not to touch anything (a reasonable precaution given what had happened when the party had disturbed Nambris’ tomb). The others followed. Bjorn located the Bier of Ekruhalagar in no time. He argued vehemently against disturbing the rest of so illustrious a hero of the ancient world, but his colleagues managed to convince him that it was more important to open the tomb in order to check what Ankallys was looking for. Lyra made an especially impassioned and very convincing case in favour of looting the tomb, in order to allow the hero’s relics to be used for good in the world, rather than continue mouldering away.
Bjorn saw through these feeble justifications, but he also realized that, one way or another, somebody was going to be crow-barring the lid off the sarcophagus. Better done my way, he reasoned. Ordering the rest of the Party out of the crypt, he got out his sacred hammer, and began praying for forgiveness for what he was about to do. The rest of the Party piled back up the stairs to wait. Spot checks all around. Still, nobody noticed she was missing.
And that’s what happened. The Ghost of Ekruhalagar, an Evolved Undead based on a 12th level Paladin of Karg, employed his power of Malevolence (or, I suppose, in this case, Benevolence) to occupy Bjorn’s body and take over his consciousness. Bjorn became, essentially, a passenger in his own head, and all of Ekruhalagar’s mental powers came to the fore. Bjorn/Ekruhalagar donned the Crown, exited the crypt, strode straight up to the advancing wall of Allips, and began blasting them into oblivion.
Here's how it went. For the sake of speeding up the combat, I ran a few calculations ahead of time. Ekruhalagar was a 12th level paladin with a 22 Charisma, and he/Bjorn was wearing the Crown of Ekruhalagar, a magical artifact that gives a +2 bonus to AC, a +4 bonus to Charisma, and that increases the wearer’s effective caster level by 4 for purposes of turning checks (but only if worn by a servant of the Allfather). This meant that for the purpose of turning checks (PHB Table 8-9), Bjorn/Ekruhalagar’s effective Charisma was 26, for a modifier of +8 to the d20 roll. This meant that the absolute worst possible roll (treating natural 1 as -10), would give a result of (-10+8=-2), or (Cleric’s level -4) for the most powerful undead that could be turned. Bjorn/Ekruhalagar’s effective cleric level was 9 (Paladin 12, -3); but the Crown’s effect adds 4, offsetting the -4 from Table 8-9. So even with a roll of Natural 1, Bjorn/Ekruhalagar could still turn undead up to 9 HD – more than enough for Allips at 4 HD (even though I tossed in some 6 HD ones as well). Bottom line – I basicaly didn’t even have to roll the turning check, although I did so anyway, for cosmetic purposes and to keep the dramatic tension up.
Taking the calculations a little further, I then looked at turning damage, which is equal to Cleric Level + Charisma Modifier + 2d6. As noted above, Bjorn/Ekruhalagar’s effective cleric level was 12-3+4, or 13; and his charisma modifier was +8. So every turning damage roll was at +21, and so could only give a result between 23 and 33. At 4 HD per Allip on average, this meant that Bjorn/Ekruhalagar would automatically turn between 23/4=5 and 33/4=8 Allips for every turning attempt. Moreover, given that Bjorn/Ekruhalagar’s effective cleric level was 9 and the Allips’ HD was 4, any Allip turned would be automatically destroyed. So I simply rolled 1d4+4 to determine how many Allips were destroyed per turning attempt.
Of course, I didn’t tell the party that I’d had this all worked out in advance; that would’ve killed the dramatic moment. Trust me, they looked pretty freaked at the massive wall of black, shimmering horror floating towards them.
Anyhow, that’s how the big denouement unfolded. The Party kept backing up deeper into the temple, the Allips kept advancing, and Bjorn kept blasting away at them. He tried something else for one round and got swiped, and nearly wisdom-drained, for his trouble, but then refocussed and resumed the blasting. In about five rounds it was all over.
8. The Bier of Ekruhalagar
This stone sarcophagus is placed on a 3’ high block of black granite, polished to a luster; it is engraved in common runes with the following phrase: “The Last Rest of Ekruhalagar, Champion of Karg, Slain in Battle by a Minion of the Dark in the Nine and Fortieth Year of New Hope. May All The Lady’s Enemies Perish At My Hands.”
The sarcophagus is trapped with a Glyph of Warding (Search DC 28, Disable DC 28) set to discharge a Blindness spell (Fort DC 20) against anyone who attempts to open it without first invoking the blessing of Karg, Esu, Tchudash or Jurdish.
The sarcophagus contains a desiccated skeleton in MW Full-Plate; a gold-plated sword-belt and scabbard, and the broken hilt and shards of Claíhom Om Sagart, ("The Sword of the Priest"); a large silver holy symbol of Karg worth 150 gp, clasped in hands of skeleton; and the Crown of Ekruhalagar.
If sarcophagus is disturbed, the Ghost of Ekruhalagar will manifest within 1d6 rounds. He will address the most powerful warrior present, demanding to know why his rest has been disturbed. If he doesn’t like the answer, he will attack. If he is pleasantly disposed, he will demand that his Crown and Holy Symbol be taken, along with his bones, to the nearest Temple of Karg and turned over; and that his sword be reforged and re-enchanted, and used to fight evil. In payment, he will encourage the fighter to make use of his armour. If all this is agreed to, he will Bless the party (and he will use “Sense Motive” on them to see if they are lying).
Note that he will visit each of his items once per year to ensure that his will is being observed. If it is not, he may choose to punish the transgressor. After 3 successive positive visits, he will go to his final rest.
9. The Waterfall
Here an underground spring has broken through the ceiling. Cold water patters down (about 10 gallons per minute). It is drinkable when it falls, but once it hits the floor, it becomes contaminated and will cause sickness if drunk.
Any damage to the ceiling in this area will cause a collapse of the stone (doing 6d6 damage to anyone in a 20’ radius under the hole, and increasing the flow rate to 40 gallons per minute.
This huge nest of webs houses two adult and 12 small Phase Spiders. They have no treasure and there are no bodies in the nest, as the spiders phase in and out, and dine elsewhere. They will attack anyone or anything who comes within 30’ of their lair.
The Crown of Ekruhalagar
The Crown is a gilded greathelm topped with a solid silver sculpture of a crouching silver dragon; the thing weighs 25 pounds if held, but only 2 pounds if worn. It radiates strong abjuration and transmutation magic, and strong good (divine) magic. It confers the following benefits: +2 deflection bonus to AC; +4 enhancement bonus to Charisma; and, if worn by a servant of the Allfather capable of turning undead, the wearer adds +4 to his/her effective caster level on all turning checks.
This story picks up where the last one left off. As you may recall, while the Party was investigating the crypt door marked “Ekruhalagar” that Breygon had found, Ankallys managed to slip off on business of her own.
While Bjorn and company were attempting to jimmy the door to Ekruhalagar’s Tomb (area 8, see map, below), Ankallys tip-toed roguishly over to Area 7. As Lyra had already suspected, Ankallys knew a little more than she was telling. The relics of Ekruhalagar were only part of the reason that Rathorn had been looking for the temple. The real reason – as avid readers may remember from wa-a-a-a-a-ay back here – was to recover relics of a different nature, that had, according to a scroll recovered by Rathorn, been laid to rest with Moldukar, a priest of Karg who had been Claw of the Temple shortly before its burial. Ankallys knew precisely where to find Moldukar’s tomb, and so she snuck over, Knocked on the door to the crypt, and went in to check things out.
Meanwhile, our brave adventurers had managed to force open the door to the other crypt, and Bjorn and Lyra ventured inside, the cleric sternly warning the sorceress not to touch anything (a reasonable precaution given what had happened when the party had disturbed Nambris’ tomb). The others followed. Bjorn located the Bier of Ekruhalagar in no time. He argued vehemently against disturbing the rest of so illustrious a hero of the ancient world, but his colleagues managed to convince him that it was more important to open the tomb in order to check what Ankallys was looking for. Lyra made an especially impassioned and very convincing case in favour of looting the tomb, in order to allow the hero’s relics to be used for good in the world, rather than continue mouldering away.
Bjorn saw through these feeble justifications, but he also realized that, one way or another, somebody was going to be crow-barring the lid off the sarcophagus. Better done my way, he reasoned. Ordering the rest of the Party out of the crypt, he got out his sacred hammer, and began praying for forgiveness for what he was about to do. The rest of the Party piled back up the stairs to wait. Spot checks all around. Still, nobody noticed she was missing.
What Ankallys was up to was not good news at all. Using a levitate spell, she removed the lid from Moldukar’s sarcophagus and began rummaging around inside it, ignoring his armour, shield and flail until she came up with what she sought: a gold-and-silver tube, capped at both ends, with the caps connected by a light chain: Moldukar’s Phylactery of Faithfulness. It was right about now that she heard the dark, mind-numbing babbling begin all over again…and a whole host of Allips swarmed out of the walls of the crypt, summoned by the violation of the tomb of the greatest priest the temple had ever known; and driven into an unholy frenzy by the dark forces emanating from the tube clutched tightly in Ankallys’ grasp. She screamed, fled up the stairs, and bolted for the temple entrance.
Her screams alerted the Party. They probably would have figured out that something was amiss anyway, seeing as how just as Ankallys appeared at the doorway of Moldukar’s crypt, two dozen Allips came streaming through the walls and floor of the temple, cutting off everyone’s escape towards the light.
Roll initiative!
The Allips surrounded Ankallys, and in about two rounds, had drained her wisdom down to nothing, at which point she fell, catatonic, to the floor. Breygon made use of those two rounds to get the Party together and into something of a semblance of a defensive line, backing towards the gigantic statue of Karg that stood under the temple’s dome.
Bjorn, still down in Ekruhalagar’s crypt, had other things on his mind. He had finished his fervent prayer to Esu and Karg, asking forgiveness for violating the hero’s tomb, and had lifted the lid of the sarcophagus, exposing the remains: the bones of Ekruhalagar, along with his armour, his magnificent helm, and his broken bastard sword.
Bjorn was still admiring these things when Ekruhalagar manifested and asked the cleric what he was about. Bjorn was properly respectful, explaining the situation, and Ekruhalagar, placated, charged Bjorn, as one of his spiritual descendents, with a holy task: to take his helm and holy symbol to the nearest Temple of Karg; and to have the shards of his sword reforged, re-enchanted, and put to use in the service of good. In payment for this service, Ekruhalagar offered Bjorn his armour, a magnificent, ancient suit of Masterwork Full-Plate, dwarf-forged to perfection. Bjorn was just about to try it on when Ankallys’ scream shattered the silence of the temple.
Bjorn, still down in Ekruhalagar’s crypt, had other things on his mind. He had finished his fervent prayer to Esu and Karg, asking forgiveness for violating the hero’s tomb, and had lifted the lid of the sarcophagus, exposing the remains: the bones of Ekruhalagar, along with his armour, his magnificent helm, and his broken bastard sword.
Bjorn was still admiring these things when Ekruhalagar manifested and asked the cleric what he was about. Bjorn was properly respectful, explaining the situation, and Ekruhalagar, placated, charged Bjorn, as one of his spiritual descendents, with a holy task: to take his helm and holy symbol to the nearest Temple of Karg; and to have the shards of his sword reforged, re-enchanted, and put to use in the service of good. In payment for this service, Ekruhalagar offered Bjorn his armour, a magnificent, ancient suit of Masterwork Full-Plate, dwarf-forged to perfection. Bjorn was just about to try it on when Ankallys’ scream shattered the silence of the temple.
Here follows a capsule of the next few moments in the Crypt of Ekruhalagar.
Bjorn: What was that?
Ghost: Your companions have awoken the uneasy spirits that haunt this place.
Bjorn: Can you calm them again?
Ghost: They are not as I. Their tortured spirits are chained to this place because they took their own lives in the darkness, after the great fall that buried the temple. They no longer have wit or reason, but seek only to destroy all life.
Bjorn: I must fight them, then.
Ghost: That would be unwise. They are many, and powerful. You would not survive. Remain here; they will not dare to invade my sanctum.
Bjorn: I am a servant of the Allfather, as you once were. Would you have me remain here in safety while my comrades perish?
Ghost: I cannot aid you in this, for my powers are frail on your plane, and I cannot don my Crown. But perhaps there is a way…
Bjorn: What is it?
Ghost: You can wear the Crown, as I cannot. If I were to inhabit your body, only for a short while, I could bring my power to bear against these creatures. Perhaps we would prevail.
Bjorn: Bringeth it on.
Bjorn: What was that?
Ghost: Your companions have awoken the uneasy spirits that haunt this place.
Bjorn: Can you calm them again?
Ghost: They are not as I. Their tortured spirits are chained to this place because they took their own lives in the darkness, after the great fall that buried the temple. They no longer have wit or reason, but seek only to destroy all life.
Bjorn: I must fight them, then.
Ghost: That would be unwise. They are many, and powerful. You would not survive. Remain here; they will not dare to invade my sanctum.
Bjorn: I am a servant of the Allfather, as you once were. Would you have me remain here in safety while my comrades perish?
Ghost: I cannot aid you in this, for my powers are frail on your plane, and I cannot don my Crown. But perhaps there is a way…
Bjorn: What is it?
Ghost: You can wear the Crown, as I cannot. If I were to inhabit your body, only for a short while, I could bring my power to bear against these creatures. Perhaps we would prevail.
Bjorn: Bringeth it on.
And that’s what happened. The Ghost of Ekruhalagar, an Evolved Undead based on a 12th level Paladin of Karg, employed his power of Malevolence (or, I suppose, in this case, Benevolence) to occupy Bjorn’s body and take over his consciousness. Bjorn became, essentially, a passenger in his own head, and all of Ekruhalagar’s mental powers came to the fore. Bjorn/Ekruhalagar donned the Crown, exited the crypt, strode straight up to the advancing wall of Allips, and began blasting them into oblivion.
Here's how it went. For the sake of speeding up the combat, I ran a few calculations ahead of time. Ekruhalagar was a 12th level paladin with a 22 Charisma, and he/Bjorn was wearing the Crown of Ekruhalagar, a magical artifact that gives a +2 bonus to AC, a +4 bonus to Charisma, and that increases the wearer’s effective caster level by 4 for purposes of turning checks (but only if worn by a servant of the Allfather). This meant that for the purpose of turning checks (PHB Table 8-9), Bjorn/Ekruhalagar’s effective Charisma was 26, for a modifier of +8 to the d20 roll. This meant that the absolute worst possible roll (treating natural 1 as -10), would give a result of (-10+8=-2), or (Cleric’s level -4) for the most powerful undead that could be turned. Bjorn/Ekruhalagar’s effective cleric level was 9 (Paladin 12, -3); but the Crown’s effect adds 4, offsetting the -4 from Table 8-9. So even with a roll of Natural 1, Bjorn/Ekruhalagar could still turn undead up to 9 HD – more than enough for Allips at 4 HD (even though I tossed in some 6 HD ones as well). Bottom line – I basicaly didn’t even have to roll the turning check, although I did so anyway, for cosmetic purposes and to keep the dramatic tension up.
Taking the calculations a little further, I then looked at turning damage, which is equal to Cleric Level + Charisma Modifier + 2d6. As noted above, Bjorn/Ekruhalagar’s effective cleric level was 12-3+4, or 13; and his charisma modifier was +8. So every turning damage roll was at +21, and so could only give a result between 23 and 33. At 4 HD per Allip on average, this meant that Bjorn/Ekruhalagar would automatically turn between 23/4=5 and 33/4=8 Allips for every turning attempt. Moreover, given that Bjorn/Ekruhalagar’s effective cleric level was 9 and the Allips’ HD was 4, any Allip turned would be automatically destroyed. So I simply rolled 1d4+4 to determine how many Allips were destroyed per turning attempt.
Of course, I didn’t tell the party that I’d had this all worked out in advance; that would’ve killed the dramatic moment. Trust me, they looked pretty freaked at the massive wall of black, shimmering horror floating towards them.
Anyhow, that’s how the big denouement unfolded. The Party kept backing up deeper into the temple, the Allips kept advancing, and Bjorn kept blasting away at them. He tried something else for one round and got swiped, and nearly wisdom-drained, for his trouble, but then refocussed and resumed the blasting. In about five rounds it was all over. (I briefly considered throwing the Phase Spiders from area 11 at this point, but nixed the idea, as it would have been somewhat anticlimactic after the Allip Army. So I didn't.)
Bjorn then went through something of an internal struggle. Ekruhalagar had to make a will save to release his grip on the cleric’s body (he did), and Bjorn had to make a fortitude save against passing out due to the flood of divine energy that had been channelled through his corpus (he did). Ekruhalagar bid Bjorn farewell, reminded him of his promise, and faded into insubstantiality.
The Party then spent about an hour trying to figure out what had happened to Ankallys. Lyra searched the catatonic wizard and discovered the phylactery gripped tightly in her hand (pictured below). They also gathered up Ekruhalagar’s relics. Ankallys was evacuated on a ropeline, wrapped in a blanket, and bundled up in the back of the Party’s wagon. Meanwhile, Bjorn laid a blessing on the temple, hoping that this would prevent intruders from sacking it.
With much spadework, through lashing their horses to the yoke, and with a lot of pushing, they managed to get their wagon across the landslide, and onto the Nordvej again. They rolled out in midafternoon, and reached Ganesford an hour later, just as the sun was going down. Rather than try to locate their point of contact at night, they spent the night at the Traveller’s Rest, just south of the ford where the Nordvej crossed the Sweetvale River, and climbed up into the small, muddy town square.
And for once, they had a restful night.
Bjorn then went through something of an internal struggle. Ekruhalagar had to make a will save to release his grip on the cleric’s body (he did), and Bjorn had to make a fortitude save against passing out due to the flood of divine energy that had been channelled through his corpus (he did). Ekruhalagar bid Bjorn farewell, reminded him of his promise, and faded into insubstantiality.
The Party then spent about an hour trying to figure out what had happened to Ankallys. Lyra searched the catatonic wizard and discovered the phylactery gripped tightly in her hand (pictured below). They also gathered up Ekruhalagar’s relics. Ankallys was evacuated on a ropeline, wrapped in a blanket, and bundled up in the back of the Party’s wagon. Meanwhile, Bjorn laid a blessing on the temple, hoping that this would prevent intruders from sacking it.
With much spadework, through lashing their horses to the yoke, and with a lot of pushing, they managed to get their wagon across the landslide, and onto the Nordvej again. They rolled out in midafternoon, and reached Ganesford an hour later, just as the sun was going down. Rather than try to locate their point of contact at night, they spent the night at the Traveller’s Rest, just south of the ford where the Nordvej crossed the Sweetvale River, and climbed up into the small, muddy town square.
And for once, they had a restful night.
* * * * *
THE BROKEN TEMPLE (Continued)
7. The Tomb of Moldukar
This sarcophagus is carved of white stone, and is decorated with the Symbol of Karg, and the words “Moldukar, High Priest of Karg, 41-101 NH". It contains a desiccated skeleton dressed in the rotted remains of clerical robes over a rusted chainshirt. The crypt also contains a rusty shield and a MW Heavy Flail. A Search DC 14 will reveal a small gold-and-silver tube, 2” in diameter and 6” long, on a silver chain. This is a Phylactery of Faithfulness, keyed to servants of the Allfather. If opened, it will be found to contain numerous pieces of parchment inscribed with phrases of praise to “Karg, Esu and Braea”. If these parchments are not replaced, the phylactery will lose its power. The phylactery also contains a small waxed cloth bundle beautifully bound in gold wire, about 1” in diameter and 5” long. The parchment is ancient and enchanted. Detect Magic reveals strong, mixed arcane magic; Detect Evil reveals strong evil.
7. The Tomb of Moldukar
This sarcophagus is carved of white stone, and is decorated with the Symbol of Karg, and the words “Moldukar, High Priest of Karg, 41-101 NH". It contains a desiccated skeleton dressed in the rotted remains of clerical robes over a rusted chainshirt. The crypt also contains a rusty shield and a MW Heavy Flail. A Search DC 14 will reveal a small gold-and-silver tube, 2” in diameter and 6” long, on a silver chain. This is a Phylactery of Faithfulness, keyed to servants of the Allfather. If opened, it will be found to contain numerous pieces of parchment inscribed with phrases of praise to “Karg, Esu and Braea”. If these parchments are not replaced, the phylactery will lose its power. The phylactery also contains a small waxed cloth bundle beautifully bound in gold wire, about 1” in diameter and 5” long. The parchment is ancient and enchanted. Detect Magic reveals strong, mixed arcane magic; Detect Evil reveals strong evil.
8. The Bier of Ekruhalagar
This stone sarcophagus is placed on a 3’ high block of black granite, polished to a luster; it is engraved in common runes with the following phrase: “The Last Rest of Ekruhalagar, Champion of Karg, Slain in Battle by a Minion of the Dark in the Nine and Fortieth Year of New Hope. May All The Lady’s Enemies Perish At My Hands.”
The sarcophagus is trapped with a Glyph of Warding (Search DC 28, Disable DC 28) set to discharge a Blindness spell (Fort DC 20) against anyone who attempts to open it without first invoking the blessing of Karg, Esu, Tchudash or Jurdish.
The sarcophagus contains a desiccated skeleton in MW Full-Plate; a gold-plated sword-belt and scabbard, and the broken hilt and shards of Claíhom Om Sagart, ("The Sword of the Priest"); a large silver holy symbol of Karg worth 150 gp, clasped in hands of skeleton; and the Crown of Ekruhalagar.
If sarcophagus is disturbed, the Ghost of Ekruhalagar will manifest within 1d6 rounds. He will address the most powerful warrior present, demanding to know why his rest has been disturbed. If he doesn’t like the answer, he will attack. If he is pleasantly disposed, he will demand that his Crown and Holy Symbol be taken, along with his bones, to the nearest Temple of Karg and turned over; and that his sword be reforged and re-enchanted, and used to fight evil. In payment, he will encourage the fighter to make use of his armour. If all this is agreed to, he will Bless the party (and he will use “Sense Motive” on them to see if they are lying).
Note that he will visit each of his items once per year to ensure that his will is being observed. If it is not, he may choose to punish the transgressor. After 3 successive positive visits, he will go to his final rest.
9. The Waterfall
Here an underground spring has broken through the ceiling. Cold water patters down (about 10 gallons per minute). It is drinkable when it falls, but once it hits the floor, it becomes contaminated and will cause sickness if drunk.
Any damage to the ceiling in this area will cause a collapse of the stone (doing 6d6 damage to anyone in a 20’ radius under the hole, and increasing the flow rate to 40 gallons per minute.
10. The Effigy of Karg
The statue stands atop a double podium, each level 2’ high. Overhead, the ceiling domes to a full 80’, supported by enormous columns; each column is carved of marble and is covered with bits of gilding here and there. The Statue itself is 30’ tall, carved of marble, with the armoured portions covered with 40 pounds of gilding. In her hands, Karg holds a gargantuan MW Greatsword, 20’ long, weighing 150 pounds, worth 5000 gp. If the statue is in any way damaged or desecrated, the party will be attacked by 3d6 Allips and (25% chance) the Ghost of Ekruhalagar.
11. The Phase Spiders’ Nest
The statue stands atop a double podium, each level 2’ high. Overhead, the ceiling domes to a full 80’, supported by enormous columns; each column is carved of marble and is covered with bits of gilding here and there. The Statue itself is 30’ tall, carved of marble, with the armoured portions covered with 40 pounds of gilding. In her hands, Karg holds a gargantuan MW Greatsword, 20’ long, weighing 150 pounds, worth 5000 gp. If the statue is in any way damaged or desecrated, the party will be attacked by 3d6 Allips and (25% chance) the Ghost of Ekruhalagar.
11. The Phase Spiders’ Nest
This huge nest of webs houses two adult and 12 small Phase Spiders. They have no treasure and there are no bodies in the nest, as the spiders phase in and out, and dine elsewhere. They will attack anyone or anything who comes within 30’ of their lair.
* * * * *
The Crown of EkruhalagarThe Crown is a gilded greathelm topped with a solid silver sculpture of a crouching silver dragon; the thing weighs 25 pounds if held, but only 2 pounds if worn. It radiates strong abjuration and transmutation magic, and strong good (divine) magic. It confers the following benefits: +2 deflection bonus to AC; +4 enhancement bonus to Charisma; and, if worn by a servant of the Allfather capable of turning undead, the wearer adds +4 to his/her effective caster level on all turning checks.
The Crown is a well-known and legendary holy item of Karg; the Knowledge(Religion) DC to recognize it is 18. Servants of the Allfather are +2 on this check, and servants of Karg are +5.
* * * * *
* * * * *
EKRUHALAGAR
(Human Paladin of Karg, 12th Level, Evolved Ghost, CR 15)
Stats: 6’0”, 200 lbs, 29 yrs old (at death)
Hit Dice: 12d12 (112 HP)
Initiative: +2 (Dex)
Speed: Fly 30’ (perfect)
Armor Class: 15 (+5 Deflection)
(Human Paladin of Karg, 12th Level, Evolved Ghost, CR 15)
Stats: 6’0”, 200 lbs, 29 yrs old (at death)
Hit Dice: 12d12 (112 HP)
Initiative: +2 (Dex)
Speed: Fly 30’ (perfect)
Armor Class: 15 (+5 Deflection)
Attacks: +4 Bastard Sword, Holy Avenger +15/+10/+5 melee (incorporeal)
Damage: 1d8+7 (+4 only to corporeal targets, +2d6 against Evil targets)
Damage: 1d8+7 (+4 only to corporeal targets, +2d6 against Evil targets)
Face/Reach: 5’x5’/5’
Saves: F+14, R+10, W+11
Abilities: Str – (17), Dex 14, Con --, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 22
Alignment: Lawful Good
Feats: Mounted Combat, Ride-by Attack, Spirited Charge, Power Attack, Cleave, Leadership
Languages: Common
Class skills: Detect Aura of Evil, Divine Grace, Lay on Hands, Divine Health, Aura of Courage, Smite Evil, Remove Disease (4/week), Turn Undead
Treasure: Crown of Ekruhalagar; MW Full Plate of Mobility; +4 Holy Avenger Longsword (Broken)
Skills: Diplomacy+7(13), Handle Animal+6(12), Heal+8(11), Hide+8(10), Knowledge: Religion+12(12), Listen+8(11), Ride+12(14), Search+8(8), Sense Motive +8(11), Spot+8(11),
Spells: 1:2 (Bless, Protection from Evil), 2:2 (Remove Paralysis, Shield Other), 3:2 (Magic Circle Against Evil, Remove Blindness/Deafness)
Ghost Characteristics:
Benevolence (Su): Able to possess a physical being (Will DC 22 to resist)
Manifestation(Su): Visible but incorporeal; can attack creatures on the material plane. Sword remains +4 to hit, but deals only its Holy bonus damage, and only to evil creatures (2d6+4 damage for sword bonus)
Frightful Moan(Su): 30’ range, Will save DC 22 or panic for 2d4 rounds
Corrupting Gaze(Su): 30’ range, Fort Save DC 22 or 2d10 damage and 1d4 permanent Constitution Drain
Telekinesis(Su): Once per round, free action, as Sorcerer 12 (880’ range, max 12 rounds, Will save DC 22 to resist, move 300 pounds up to 20’/round; or Hurl 300 pounds of stuff within 10’ at one creature; causes 1d6 damage if hurled against a solid surface)
Rejuvenation(Su): If destroyed, recorporates at its crypt within 2d4 days (unless crypt destroyed)
Turn Resistance: +4
Saves: F+14, R+10, W+11
Abilities: Str – (17), Dex 14, Con --, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 22
Alignment: Lawful Good
Feats: Mounted Combat, Ride-by Attack, Spirited Charge, Power Attack, Cleave, Leadership
Languages: Common
Class skills: Detect Aura of Evil, Divine Grace, Lay on Hands, Divine Health, Aura of Courage, Smite Evil, Remove Disease (4/week), Turn Undead
Treasure: Crown of Ekruhalagar; MW Full Plate of Mobility; +4 Holy Avenger Longsword (Broken)
Skills: Diplomacy+7(13), Handle Animal+6(12), Heal+8(11), Hide+8(10), Knowledge: Religion+12(12), Listen+8(11), Ride+12(14), Search+8(8), Sense Motive +8(11), Spot+8(11),
Spells: 1:2 (Bless, Protection from Evil), 2:2 (Remove Paralysis, Shield Other), 3:2 (Magic Circle Against Evil, Remove Blindness/Deafness)
Ghost Characteristics:
Benevolence (Su): Able to possess a physical being (Will DC 22 to resist)
Manifestation(Su): Visible but incorporeal; can attack creatures on the material plane. Sword remains +4 to hit, but deals only its Holy bonus damage, and only to evil creatures (2d6+4 damage for sword bonus)
Frightful Moan(Su): 30’ range, Will save DC 22 or panic for 2d4 rounds
Corrupting Gaze(Su): 30’ range, Fort Save DC 22 or 2d10 damage and 1d4 permanent Constitution Drain
Telekinesis(Su): Once per round, free action, as Sorcerer 12 (880’ range, max 12 rounds, Will save DC 22 to resist, move 300 pounds up to 20’/round; or Hurl 300 pounds of stuff within 10’ at one creature; causes 1d6 damage if hurled against a solid surface)
Rejuvenation(Su): If destroyed, recorporates at its crypt within 2d4 days (unless crypt destroyed)
Turn Resistance: +4
Appearance: Ekruhalagar appears much as he did in life: a mighty Paladin, one of the sons of Esu and a devoted servant of Karg. He appears wearing his dwarf-forged full plate armour and the helm known as the Crown of Ekruhalagar, with its crest molded in the shape of a crouching dragon; and he wields his giant-forged Holy Sword, Claíhom om sagart, as it appeared before it was broken.
Background: Ekruhalagar lived and died more than 900 years ago. One of the first Paladins consecrated after the return of Karg to aid the Kindred, his task was to protect the early church against the ravages of Bardan’s monsters in the years shortly following the War of the Shadow. Immensely pious and gifted, he was given three tools to aid him in his task: a magnificent suit of MW Full Plate Armour, crafted by dwarves with such skill that it was only as cumbersome as a breastplate alone; Claíhom om sagart, (“The Sword of the Priest”), a +4 Holy Avenger sword forged by giants; and a mighty magical helmet that later came to be known as the Crown of Ekruhalagar.
After a decade of loyal service, the mighty Paladin was finally slain in battle with Kaalbolg, one of the Minions of Dark – a fell demon of the Underdearth who summoned by a Priest of Morga. Although he slew the demon, Ekruhalagar’s sword was broken, and he was mortally wounded. He was laid to rest in the Temple of Karg near Ganesford, and his tomb became a place of worship and pilgrimage – at least until the temple was buried in a landslide a hundred years after his death. Since then, his ghost has returned to haunt his resting place. He is determined to see that his arms are recovered, his sword reforged, and that all end up in the hands of worthy servants of the Allfather, to be used to battle evil wherever it may arise.
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26 August 2007
The Earthquake (II): Undead and Fungi and Oozes, oh my!
THE BROKEN TEMPLE OF KARG
After a moment’s goggling, Gwen tied the rope off and stood back to let the rest of the party ascend. In true PC fashion, they immediately spread out to see what sorts of things they might scare up.
All of this came to a crashing halt, however, a century or so after the temple’s construction, when an unstable cliff-face above the temple collapsed in a shower of earth and rubble, burying the temple completely, and covering a large segment of the Nordvej with debris. The temple’s senior clerics had been outside during the landslide, and were immediately killed; the unfortunate acolytes and low-level what-nots actually in the temple were not so lucky. Due to its heavy stone construction, the temple withstood the landslide, and those within it survived; but theylacked the divine power to extricate or sustain themselves, and there was no-one left outside to help. They had plenty of food and water, and so faced a slow and painful death from suffocation – so, courage being their hallmark, they committed their souls to Karg, and fell on their swords to avoid the inevitable suffering.
With this sort of background history, the next question for the serious dungeon-designer is this: What are any monsters doing here, and how do they survive? In the case of a buried temple with no external access, your monster options are pretty limited. You need to find denizens that either (a) don’t require material sustenance, (b) can sustain themselves on tiny vermin that can get into and out of the place using holes that PCs can’t fit through, or (c) use the place as a lair, but are able to get in and out of it a different way to hunt. And most importantly, if they’re all going to be in the same place, they had better not compete either for living space or for prey. To meet these criteria at an appropriate Encounter Level for a party of 4th and 5th level PCs, I decided to employ:
(a) Allips (CR 3);
(b) Violet Fungus (CR 3) and Shriekers (CR 1);
(c) A Gray Ooze (CR 4); and
(d) Phase Spiders (CR 5).
Allips are incorporeal undead who require no sustenance and can move through walls. Best of all, though, they are, to quote the MM, “the spectral remains of someone driven to suicide”, which fit the temple’s backstory perfectly. I saw the Allips as the spiritual remnants of the temple’s inhabitants, who had died at their own hands for their diety, and would therefore rather resent anyone despoiling the temple. So I decided they would show up any time any one disturbed one of the sarcophagi (about 2-3 at a time for an EL of 4-5, appropriate for the Party); but the number of Allips appearing might also be proportional to the importance in life of the disturbed individual’s remains. This last concept was key to one of the major "story goals" of the dungeon - an important factor, as this was the first of the adventures along the "myth arc" I had designed for the campaign, and a few important things had to happen to get the campaign train on the rails, and rolling in the right direction.
Violet Fungi and Shriekers “often work together to attract and kill prey”, which in a closed, underground dungeon would come in the form of rats, mice, spiders and the like. This explained why there weren’t many of them (2 Violet Fungi, for an EL of 4, and 8 Shriekers, for a notional EL of 7 – but not really, since Shriekers don’t deal damage, and there weren’t any other creatures for them to call in on their side. Also, since they are stationary, I had to put them somewhere permanent – so I stuck them in the middle of the temple (at area 4 on the map).
The Gray Ooze I stationed at Area 5, next to the fungi, reasoning that this would be the most likely place for it to find food (e.g. by intercepting rodents being drawn to the fungi by the Shriekers’ cries). The Ooze also made a decent “monster trap”, seeing as how they can appear to be a “section of damp stone” and require a DC 15 Spot check to notice. This worked just fine, as you'll see in a moment; even though I marked the Ooze on the battle map (and in a different colour than the water, no less!), the PC who sidled up next to it thought it was nothing more than another puddle.
Finally, I included the Phase Spiders as an “optional monster” in case the Party breezed their way past the other ones. My theory here is that Phase Spiders would love the buried temple as it was entirely underground and therefore relatively immune to intruders, while they could simply “ethereally jaunt” in and out of the place to hunt. The temple would be, for them, a completely secure lair; by building their webs high up in the temple’s dome by the giant statue (at Area 11), they would be out of reach of the ooze and any vermin while resting. The Phase Spiders would also offer a tougher challenge to the Party if necessary (two of them together would be EL 7, after all). As it turned out, they wasn’t necessary, so I simply deemed that they were out hunting when the PCs came to call.
So there you have it! Four different monster types, living neck and neck in a dungeon, logically and without interfering with each other. And there was another monster, too…but more about him later.
Oh, and one more thing: with no way for monsters or adventurers to get in or out, there couldn't be any treasure in the temple that had not been there already when the landslide occurred. The only possible exception to this judgement would be if the Phase Spiders had nabbed somebody elsewhere and brought him back for long-term storage in their webs; but I decided that there would only be treasure there if there were monsters as well (no risk, no reward).
(DM Rambling Off)
The first thing the PCs noticed were the long lines of sarcophagi stretching down into the temple’s interior, each at the foot of one of the massive stone pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling. Interestingly, everyone was very much in character as things got underway. The potential for loot sparked Gwen’s avarice, and she immediately asked for help getting the lid off one of them. Bjorn was appropriately scandalized; there was as yet no hint what sort of temple this was (the statue of Karg at the far end was still mostly immersed in the shadows), but he nonetheless wasn’t keen on disturbing the dead. Joraz and Lyra began poking around, while Breygon, characteristically cautious, kept an arrow nocked. He was a little more nervous than usual, seeing as how Greywind lacked the opposable digits necessary to scale the rope up into the temple. Ankallys had also ascended the rope to lend her aid, but she hung back, knowing a lot more about the temple than the PCs did. And also knowing what she was looking for.
At length, with Bjorn’s grudging assistance, Gwen picked the first sarcophagus she found that had any intact writing on it: the one belonging to Nambris (at Area 6). They got the lid off of the thing and Gwen began rummaging around in its interior, looking for shiny stuff. Bjorn, who had been reading the engravings on the stone, found that the tomb belonged to one of the acolytes of Karg, a servant of his own diety, Esu, and began protesting vehemently any further looting. Gwen came up for air, triumphantly holding Nambris’ silver vambraces…and then everything went pear-shaped.
A pair of Allips floated out of the depths of the floor-stones and took form, gibbering and moaning the way Allips tend to do. Roll initiative! Will saves all around! Nobody fell victim to the hypnotic effects of the babbling on the first go-around, then everyone took their actions. Breygon and Gwen launched arrows, to no obvious effect, while Joraz backed away, further into the temple. Lyra hit one of the Allips with a magic missile. Then came Bjorn’s turn, and he hauled out his holy hammer, called down the wrath of the Allfather, and Turned both of them. Well, actually, he didn’t; it took another round of shouting and flourishing before he managed to get them both to back off.
By this time, Joraz had backed up far enough into the temple’s interior that the Shriekers got into the action. There’s nothing like screaming mushrooms to ruin your day. The Violet Fungi took a few swats at him and hit, causing damage but failing to dent his strength or constitution. Bjorn lumbered over to the rescue, while Lyra took cover, and Gwen and Breygon began launching arrows at everything they could see. I seem to recall that Gwen managed to put an arrow into Bjorn while aiming at one of the Fungi here, but I could be wrong. What DID happen was that Ankallys hauled out a scroll she had been carrying and launched a fireball at the fungi. This took down all of the Shriekers and did a number on the Fungi, but regrettably, Bjorn was in the blast radius and took a face-full of plasma on top of his other woes. Joraz by now had other problems, being in range of the Gray Ooze’s tentacle attack. While the rest of the party filled the Fungi with arrows, Joraz took on the Ooze, whacking it repeatedly with his staff. This was of course quickly dissolved by the Ooze’s acid. Bjorn lent a hand, and between the two of them, they managed to give the gooey thing quietus.
Bjorn then healed himself and the others who had taken damage – and then he made Gwendilyne put the vambraces back in Nambris’ tomb, and closed it up again. This engendered much grumbling from the Halfling, and a stern lecture from the priest about touching anything else without his say-so. The Party resumed searching the temple, and Breygon eventually located the low door to Area 8, seeing the inscription “Ekruhalagar”, and recalling that Ankallys had mentioned that name. Despite his better judgement, Bjorn helped Breygon and Joraz force the door open, then the priest took a torch and descended into the depths of the crypt whilst the others kept watch outside.
At this point, I rolled a few secret Spot checks behind the DM’s screen. Everybody was enthralled by the enormous statue of Karg that dominated the temple's nave, beneath its magnificent vaulting dome filled with odd, violet spiderwebs.
Nobody seemed to notice that Ankallys had disappeared.
Nine miles north of Bornhavn, the Sweetvale River flows down out of the hills of the Great North Woods to join the Stjerneflade. Here lies the town of Ganesford. It’s an old town; folk have been crossing the Sweetvale Shallows here for nigh on a thousand years.
A mile south of Ganesford, the Nordvej runs past a high cliff. Centuries ago, the cliff collapsed, spilling a broad fan of earth down the hillside, burying everything in its path, and covering most of the road down to the riverbank. One of the things that was buried was a Temple to Karg, Lady of Courage and Mistress of Bears; the first such temple to be built in northern Zare after the return of the Powers in the wake of the War of the Shadows. It had been a magnificent structure of limestone and marble, boasting a gigantic statue of Karg herself, carved by hand from marble and carefully gilded – and on that black day, it withstood the terrible force of the landslide intact. But all within it were buried alive, and slew themselves rather than suffer a slow, agonizing death. Many things were buried with them, including the tombs of many heroes and clerics of the Lady, and a mighty religious relic: the Crown of Ekruhalagar. And some things that were even more important: the [CENSORED], and a clue about [CENSORED], the [CENSORED].
After weeks of work, the Nordvej was uncovered, a retaining wall was built, and traffic flowed again on the great highway; but the temple and its final occupants remained forever buried against the cliff. Secrets cannot be hidden from the wise, however; and eventually Oras Rathorn, a wizard and wise man of Vejborg, poring over ancient documents and land grants, discovered the location of the temple and the records of the mighty treasures it contained. Gathering his apprentices, henchmen, and an army of miners, he set out for the North.
He passed through Bornhavn some months ago and took rooms at the Gane's Tankard Tavern, setting up his headquarters at the Traveller’s Rest, an inn on the south bank of the Sweetvale near the ford. It took weeks of effort to pin down the exact location of the temple; but once he had done so, Rathorn began to ply his mighty magicks to move the earth and uncover its secrets. Much to his sorrow; for the ground remained terribly unstable, and just as he was casting his spells to remove the last of the dirt from the mighty front gates of the temple, his magicks triggered an enormous earthquake, and the cliff collapsed anew. The quake was felt for miles in every direction, and this time the fall was terrible, tearing away the front of the temple, and hurling its mighty stones down the cliff and into the river. The Nordvej, Rathorn’s camp, his followers, and the wizard himself were all buried under countless tons of earth and rubble.
The only survivor was Ankallys, one of his apprentices, who had been out hunting for herbs and spell components in the forests south of the temple. She returned after the quake to find her master, her friends, and all of their possessions buried alive under thousands of tonnes of earth and rock. The slide had torn away the front of the cliff, spilling dirt and rock splinters down the hill, reburying the Nordvej and dropping the detritus of ages in a dark fan into the river.
As Ankallys struggled to find some sign of her vanished colleagues, she saw enormous blocks of worked white stone projecting out of the morass, and here and there, jagged broken pieces of enormous marble pillars. And then she saw what was clearly a sarcophagus. She raised her eyes; sixty feet up the collapsed cliff, the interior of the broken temple yawned darkly.
Hours later, she was still digging frantically through the rubble, finding only detritus and the dead, when a pair of riders arrived from the north and offered to assist. The trio was hard at work later that evening, when a party of three adventurers, accompanied by an enormous silver wolf, trotted up the Nordvej from the South.
Ankallys will absolutely insist that the party do everything in its power to recover the Crown; only by selling it could she hope to pay off her Master’s (and therefore her) debts and avoid being sold into servitude. At the same time, however, she will be searching frantically for the Tomb of Moldukar, the High Priest of the Temple from 41-101 (New Hope), at the time when many of the [CENSORED] were being hidden away forever. She will do everything she can to recover [CENSORED].
Timeline:
1) 1 hour after party leaves Bornhavn: EARTHQUAKE (rumbling, shaking, trees swaying, rocks rolling down hillside towards river); Wilderness Lore or History DC 20 to figure strength (moderately strong) and location of epicentre (somewhere not far to the north)
2) 30 minutes after quake, they can see the north tip of Sweetvale Island, marking the point where the Sweetvale River flows out of the Western hills to join with the Stjerneflade. At this point, they notice brown mud-swirls coming downstream, followed by enormous tree-trunks and broken branches. At the same time, Bjorn and Lyra come upon Ankallys digging frantically through the dirt.
3) 30 minutes later the Party enters a part of the road with high cliffs on the left, and a steep slope down to the Sweetvale River on the right
3) An hour after that, they round a bend and see a huge swath of the cliffs have collapsed, leaving a denuded landscape that head more than a mile up the hillside to their left. There is still a haze of dust in the air, and they can see enormous trees have been uprooted and cast down the cliff. The landslide has covered the Nordvej for at least a mile, and spills into the Sweetvale River.
A) The Road and the River
The Nordvej has been buried under 20’ of rock, earth and uprooted trees for a distance of nearly a mile. The landslide stretches all the way down to the river, and into it; but the force of the current is rapidly washing the fallen dirt and trees away, leaving only the large rocks behind.
Here and there on the slide can be seen enormous, squared building stones a yard on a side; most of them are chiselled and gray, but some are white and have been polished smooth.
If the location of Rathorn’s Camp can be ascertained with any reliability (Knowledge(Geography) DC 20 followed by Survival DC 20), it would still take 10 man-days to dig down to it (no more than 4 men working at a time). Everyone is of course dead, although there is a small chance of recovering Rathorn’s magical possessions: [CENSORED].
B) The Slope and the Rivulet
The slope from the Nordvej up to the Temple is precipitous; it starts at 30 degrees and is closer to 45 near the temple. It is jumbled with stones, tree trunks, building materials and such, and is very unstable. Here and there, wall stones and floor tiles can be seen. There are a half-dozen enormous, broken marble pillars scattered here and there; if these begin to roll, anyone below will be in a world of hurt. Finally, three of the Temple’s stone sarcophagi have slid down the hillside.
A Knowledge: Engineering/Geography or Survival check (DC 16) reveals that the slope is extremely unstable and could collapse at any time. Anyone climbing up the slope must make a successful climb check (DC 16) to reach the bottom of the temple foundation. The results of failure are as follows:
Failure by 1-4 pts: a large stone or log is dislodged, rolls downhill. Everyone on downhill slope must make Reflex Save (DC 14) at +6 or take 1d6 damage.
Failure by 5-8 pts: several logs and stones are dislodged; everyone downslope must make a Reflex Save (DC 16) at +3 or take 3d6 damage.
Failure by 9+ pts: a swath of the hillside is disrupted; everyone downslope must make a reflex save (DC 18) or take 6d6 damage. Person on slope must make reflex save (DC 15) or take 3d6 damage and end up buried alive
Critical Failure (natural 1): the landslide is restarted; person on slope and everyone downslope must make a Reflex Save (DC 20) or take 8d6 damage and be buried alive
1. Broken sarcophagus
This stone sarcophagus is badly damaged, having rolled several times. Climb DC 10 to reach it. The lid has been smashed partially off; it contains dry, desiccated bones and the remains of fine clerical robes. The body has a cloth-of-gold cincture (worth 150 gp if cleaned and restored) and a tarnished silver symbol of Karg on a heavy silver chain (worth 75 gp if cleaned).
2. Intact sarcophagi
Both of these sarcophagi slid rather than rolled, and are relatively intact. The Climb DCs are 14 for the lower and 16 for the higher. Both contain dry, desiccated skeletons in priestly robes over rusted chainmail. The lower one is garbed in a once-rich but now rotting silk surcoat emblazoned with the sigul of Karg. The upper one contains a MW longsword and gilded scabbard (good condition, 500 gp) and a large wooden shield (rotting) marked with the remains of the symbol of Karg.
C) The Buried Temple
Note: If any of the intact tombs within the temple are disturbed, party will be attacked by 1d4 Allips, the spirits of those who died alone and in the dark.
To get from the bottom of the temple foundations to the temple interior requires a Climb check (DC 20).
3. The temple interior and the rivulet
The temple is 60’ wide, with 30’ high walls and a barrel-vaulted ceiling that arches to 60’ in the middle. The ceiling is supported by massive marble pillars 5’ in diameter and 45’ high; these are highly polished. The floor is made of sandstone, with polished marble tiles leading down towards the nave, and off between the pillars on both sides. The walls are greyish-green stone; the doors running down the sides are constructed of some sort of black stone, harder than iron, and highly polished.
Near the opening where the temple walls have been smashed away, the floor tiles are loose and prone to tilt, and occasionally a stone falls from the broken ceiling. The creaking of overstressed rock is everywhere. Piles of fallen rock and broken ceiling stones lie here and there on the floor, and pools of stagnant, reeking water can be seen dotting the marble. A trickle of water no more than a few feet wide and a dew inches deep snakes down the apse towards the opening; water runs down the newly-broken cliff-face.
4. The Violet Fungus colony
A colony of 2 large Violet Fungi, surrounded by 8 Shriekers and the skeletons of many dead rodents, clusters around this pillar. They have no treasure.
5. The Gray Ooze
This puddle resembles the other water puddles so closely that a Spot Check (DC 15) within 30’ is necessary to detect it. It will lash out at any living creature that comes into range, and will follow any that retreat. It has no treasure.
6. The Sarcophagus of Nambris
This sarcophagus is one of the only ones with intact writings on the surface; it is carved of limestone and inset with pieces of mother-of-pear. The insets spell out “Nambris, Warrior of Karg. Born 28, Died 69, Age of New Hope. Rest Well in the Mistress’ Arms”. It contains the desiccated skeleton of a mighty human warrior more than 7’ tall, wearing rusty ancient full plate, and bearing a rusty greatsword. The cadaver wears fine vambraces, silvered and inlaid with mother-of-pearl, easily worth 500 gp.
Yesterday I recounted how the new PCs, Lyra the Rogue/Sorceress and Bjorn the Fighter/Cleric, bumped into the remaining members of the original Party on the Nordvej. As you’ll recall, there had been a small earthquake that morning, and a landslide had collapsed a significant portion of a cliff face about a mile south of Ganesford, covering the road, and exposing something dark and sinister looking. The newly-constituted Party camped overnight in the shadow of the cliff, and determined to check the place out in the morning, when the rays of the rising sun would be shining directly into its depth.
While they waited for the Lantern (in this world, the sun is called the Lantern of Bræa, for reasons rooted in the ancient history of Anuru) to rise and illuminate the interior of the cave, the PCs spent a few moments questioning Ankallys, the NPC they had discovered digging in the rubble of the landslide. Ankallys explained that her master, a Zaran Human Wizard named Oras Rathorn, had led a party here from Vejborg over the summer in order to unearth a structure that had been covered by a landslide centuries before. Rathorn’s historical researches had revealed that there were vast treasures concealed within the buried building, and Ankallys still hoped to recover some of them in order to help pay off the enormous debts that Rathorn had accumulated on the project.
When asked about what sorts of treasures she expected to find, Ankallys got a little vague; she mentioned the “Relics of Ekruhalagar”, a hero of the ancient world, whose sword, armour and helmet should be worth a small fortune. Bjorn failed his Knowledge(Religion) check when this name was mentioned, but nonetheless waxed a little indignant that anyone - especially a mage - would consider disturbing a hero’s remains for crass lucre. More importantly, when Ankallys was asked what else they might find in the temple, she clammed up fairly quickly. Lyra, proving the adage that “a thief will always suspect you of stealing”, rolled a Sense Motive during these discussions, and determined that Ankallys knew more than she was telling.
While they waited for the Lantern (in this world, the sun is called the Lantern of Bræa, for reasons rooted in the ancient history of Anuru) to rise and illuminate the interior of the cave, the PCs spent a few moments questioning Ankallys, the NPC they had discovered digging in the rubble of the landslide. Ankallys explained that her master, a Zaran Human Wizard named Oras Rathorn, had led a party here from Vejborg over the summer in order to unearth a structure that had been covered by a landslide centuries before. Rathorn’s historical researches had revealed that there were vast treasures concealed within the buried building, and Ankallys still hoped to recover some of them in order to help pay off the enormous debts that Rathorn had accumulated on the project.
When asked about what sorts of treasures she expected to find, Ankallys got a little vague; she mentioned the “Relics of Ekruhalagar”, a hero of the ancient world, whose sword, armour and helmet should be worth a small fortune. Bjorn failed his Knowledge(Religion) check when this name was mentioned, but nonetheless waxed a little indignant that anyone - especially a mage - would consider disturbing a hero’s remains for crass lucre. More importantly, when Ankallys was asked what else they might find in the temple, she clammed up fairly quickly. Lyra, proving the adage that “a thief will always suspect you of stealing”, rolled a Sense Motive during these discussions, and determined that Ankallys knew more than she was telling.
And how.
After a night of rain, the mud-clotted hillside was a little treacherous, particularly as it was now strewn with shattered tree-trunks, enormous paving and building stones, and even a few fragments of stone sarcophagi that had slid half-way down the hill. The PCs rummaged through their packs and came up with some rope. They gave one end to Gwendilyne, who employed her fabulous Climb skills (four successive successful checks) to make her way up the slope to what proved to be not a cave, but rather the exposed foundations of a buried building that had been smashed open by the landslide. Big one, too; a hundred or so feet wide and nearly half that in height. She clambered up the stones and into the structure…and this is what she saw:
After a night of rain, the mud-clotted hillside was a little treacherous, particularly as it was now strewn with shattered tree-trunks, enormous paving and building stones, and even a few fragments of stone sarcophagi that had slid half-way down the hill. The PCs rummaged through their packs and came up with some rope. They gave one end to Gwendilyne, who employed her fabulous Climb skills (four successive successful checks) to make her way up the slope to what proved to be not a cave, but rather the exposed foundations of a buried building that had been smashed open by the landslide. Big one, too; a hundred or so feet wide and nearly half that in height. She clambered up the stones and into the structure…and this is what she saw:
After a moment’s goggling, Gwen tied the rope off and stood back to let the rest of the party ascend. In true PC fashion, they immediately spread out to see what sorts of things they might scare up.(DM RAMBLING ON)
At this point, it’s appropriate to embark upon another little self-indulgent bit of DM rambling about dungeon design. Harking back to an earlier ramble, you’ll recall that, in my opinion, the single most important question that the DM has to answer when designing a dungeon is, “Why is this here?” A “dungeon”, in the classical sense of an underground space filled with monsters, is either natural or artificial, and if the latter, then the question breaks down into three parts: Who built it; Why did they build it in this place and in this style; and, What has happened to it since it was built to make it the way it is today. These questions are the foundation of the “willing suspension of disbelief” upon which a successful adventure is built.
The “Broken Temple”, which was my working title for this particular dungeon, was a relatively easy concept to design and justify. It consisted of a large temple, built a little over a thousand years ago (in the period of post-bellum religious fervour following the defeat of the Shadow King), and dedicated to what was then one of the popular Servants of Esu – Karg, the Lady of Bears, patroness of courage and of warriors. The temple served as a center for Karg’s worship in Zare and became increasingly popular as, courtesy the Stjerneflåde River, trade flourished between the coastal cities and the Bjerglands. As a result many of the heroes of the War of the Shadows were interred here, along with those acolytes of Esu and Karg that did mighty works in the immediate post-War period.
At this point, it’s appropriate to embark upon another little self-indulgent bit of DM rambling about dungeon design. Harking back to an earlier ramble, you’ll recall that, in my opinion, the single most important question that the DM has to answer when designing a dungeon is, “Why is this here?” A “dungeon”, in the classical sense of an underground space filled with monsters, is either natural or artificial, and if the latter, then the question breaks down into three parts: Who built it; Why did they build it in this place and in this style; and, What has happened to it since it was built to make it the way it is today. These questions are the foundation of the “willing suspension of disbelief” upon which a successful adventure is built.
The “Broken Temple”, which was my working title for this particular dungeon, was a relatively easy concept to design and justify. It consisted of a large temple, built a little over a thousand years ago (in the period of post-bellum religious fervour following the defeat of the Shadow King), and dedicated to what was then one of the popular Servants of Esu – Karg, the Lady of Bears, patroness of courage and of warriors. The temple served as a center for Karg’s worship in Zare and became increasingly popular as, courtesy the Stjerneflåde River, trade flourished between the coastal cities and the Bjerglands. As a result many of the heroes of the War of the Shadows were interred here, along with those acolytes of Esu and Karg that did mighty works in the immediate post-War period.
(Here's a blueprint-style shot of the temple as it looked when first constructed; the Party found this architectural plan amongst Rathorn's papers when Gwen broke into the mage's room at the Gane's Tankard Tavern a few days later.)
All of this came to a crashing halt, however, a century or so after the temple’s construction, when an unstable cliff-face above the temple collapsed in a shower of earth and rubble, burying the temple completely, and covering a large segment of the Nordvej with debris. The temple’s senior clerics had been outside during the landslide, and were immediately killed; the unfortunate acolytes and low-level what-nots actually in the temple were not so lucky. Due to its heavy stone construction, the temple withstood the landslide, and those within it survived; but theylacked the divine power to extricate or sustain themselves, and there was no-one left outside to help. They had plenty of food and water, and so faced a slow and painful death from suffocation – so, courage being their hallmark, they committed their souls to Karg, and fell on their swords to avoid the inevitable suffering.With this sort of background history, the next question for the serious dungeon-designer is this: What are any monsters doing here, and how do they survive? In the case of a buried temple with no external access, your monster options are pretty limited. You need to find denizens that either (a) don’t require material sustenance, (b) can sustain themselves on tiny vermin that can get into and out of the place using holes that PCs can’t fit through, or (c) use the place as a lair, but are able to get in and out of it a different way to hunt. And most importantly, if they’re all going to be in the same place, they had better not compete either for living space or for prey. To meet these criteria at an appropriate Encounter Level for a party of 4th and 5th level PCs, I decided to employ:
(a) Allips (CR 3);
(b) Violet Fungus (CR 3) and Shriekers (CR 1);
(c) A Gray Ooze (CR 4); and
(d) Phase Spiders (CR 5).
Allips are incorporeal undead who require no sustenance and can move through walls. Best of all, though, they are, to quote the MM, “the spectral remains of someone driven to suicide”, which fit the temple’s backstory perfectly. I saw the Allips as the spiritual remnants of the temple’s inhabitants, who had died at their own hands for their diety, and would therefore rather resent anyone despoiling the temple. So I decided they would show up any time any one disturbed one of the sarcophagi (about 2-3 at a time for an EL of 4-5, appropriate for the Party); but the number of Allips appearing might also be proportional to the importance in life of the disturbed individual’s remains. This last concept was key to one of the major "story goals" of the dungeon - an important factor, as this was the first of the adventures along the "myth arc" I had designed for the campaign, and a few important things had to happen to get the campaign train on the rails, and rolling in the right direction.
Violet Fungi and Shriekers “often work together to attract and kill prey”, which in a closed, underground dungeon would come in the form of rats, mice, spiders and the like. This explained why there weren’t many of them (2 Violet Fungi, for an EL of 4, and 8 Shriekers, for a notional EL of 7 – but not really, since Shriekers don’t deal damage, and there weren’t any other creatures for them to call in on their side. Also, since they are stationary, I had to put them somewhere permanent – so I stuck them in the middle of the temple (at area 4 on the map).
The Gray Ooze I stationed at Area 5, next to the fungi, reasoning that this would be the most likely place for it to find food (e.g. by intercepting rodents being drawn to the fungi by the Shriekers’ cries). The Ooze also made a decent “monster trap”, seeing as how they can appear to be a “section of damp stone” and require a DC 15 Spot check to notice. This worked just fine, as you'll see in a moment; even though I marked the Ooze on the battle map (and in a different colour than the water, no less!), the PC who sidled up next to it thought it was nothing more than another puddle.
Finally, I included the Phase Spiders as an “optional monster” in case the Party breezed their way past the other ones. My theory here is that Phase Spiders would love the buried temple as it was entirely underground and therefore relatively immune to intruders, while they could simply “ethereally jaunt” in and out of the place to hunt. The temple would be, for them, a completely secure lair; by building their webs high up in the temple’s dome by the giant statue (at Area 11), they would be out of reach of the ooze and any vermin while resting. The Phase Spiders would also offer a tougher challenge to the Party if necessary (two of them together would be EL 7, after all). As it turned out, they wasn’t necessary, so I simply deemed that they were out hunting when the PCs came to call.
So there you have it! Four different monster types, living neck and neck in a dungeon, logically and without interfering with each other. And there was another monster, too…but more about him later.
Oh, and one more thing: with no way for monsters or adventurers to get in or out, there couldn't be any treasure in the temple that had not been there already when the landslide occurred. The only possible exception to this judgement would be if the Phase Spiders had nabbed somebody elsewhere and brought him back for long-term storage in their webs; but I decided that there would only be treasure there if there were monsters as well (no risk, no reward).
(DM Rambling Off)
The first thing the PCs noticed were the long lines of sarcophagi stretching down into the temple’s interior, each at the foot of one of the massive stone pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling. Interestingly, everyone was very much in character as things got underway. The potential for loot sparked Gwen’s avarice, and she immediately asked for help getting the lid off one of them. Bjorn was appropriately scandalized; there was as yet no hint what sort of temple this was (the statue of Karg at the far end was still mostly immersed in the shadows), but he nonetheless wasn’t keen on disturbing the dead. Joraz and Lyra began poking around, while Breygon, characteristically cautious, kept an arrow nocked. He was a little more nervous than usual, seeing as how Greywind lacked the opposable digits necessary to scale the rope up into the temple. Ankallys had also ascended the rope to lend her aid, but she hung back, knowing a lot more about the temple than the PCs did. And also knowing what she was looking for.
At length, with Bjorn’s grudging assistance, Gwen picked the first sarcophagus she found that had any intact writing on it: the one belonging to Nambris (at Area 6). They got the lid off of the thing and Gwen began rummaging around in its interior, looking for shiny stuff. Bjorn, who had been reading the engravings on the stone, found that the tomb belonged to one of the acolytes of Karg, a servant of his own diety, Esu, and began protesting vehemently any further looting. Gwen came up for air, triumphantly holding Nambris’ silver vambraces…and then everything went pear-shaped.
A pair of Allips floated out of the depths of the floor-stones and took form, gibbering and moaning the way Allips tend to do. Roll initiative! Will saves all around! Nobody fell victim to the hypnotic effects of the babbling on the first go-around, then everyone took their actions. Breygon and Gwen launched arrows, to no obvious effect, while Joraz backed away, further into the temple. Lyra hit one of the Allips with a magic missile. Then came Bjorn’s turn, and he hauled out his holy hammer, called down the wrath of the Allfather, and Turned both of them. Well, actually, he didn’t; it took another round of shouting and flourishing before he managed to get them both to back off.
By this time, Joraz had backed up far enough into the temple’s interior that the Shriekers got into the action. There’s nothing like screaming mushrooms to ruin your day. The Violet Fungi took a few swats at him and hit, causing damage but failing to dent his strength or constitution. Bjorn lumbered over to the rescue, while Lyra took cover, and Gwen and Breygon began launching arrows at everything they could see. I seem to recall that Gwen managed to put an arrow into Bjorn while aiming at one of the Fungi here, but I could be wrong. What DID happen was that Ankallys hauled out a scroll she had been carrying and launched a fireball at the fungi. This took down all of the Shriekers and did a number on the Fungi, but regrettably, Bjorn was in the blast radius and took a face-full of plasma on top of his other woes. Joraz by now had other problems, being in range of the Gray Ooze’s tentacle attack. While the rest of the party filled the Fungi with arrows, Joraz took on the Ooze, whacking it repeatedly with his staff. This was of course quickly dissolved by the Ooze’s acid. Bjorn lent a hand, and between the two of them, they managed to give the gooey thing quietus.
Bjorn then healed himself and the others who had taken damage – and then he made Gwendilyne put the vambraces back in Nambris’ tomb, and closed it up again. This engendered much grumbling from the Halfling, and a stern lecture from the priest about touching anything else without his say-so. The Party resumed searching the temple, and Breygon eventually located the low door to Area 8, seeing the inscription “Ekruhalagar”, and recalling that Ankallys had mentioned that name. Despite his better judgement, Bjorn helped Breygon and Joraz force the door open, then the priest took a torch and descended into the depths of the crypt whilst the others kept watch outside.
At this point, I rolled a few secret Spot checks behind the DM’s screen. Everybody was enthralled by the enormous statue of Karg that dominated the temple's nave, beneath its magnificent vaulting dome filled with odd, violet spiderwebs.
Nobody seemed to notice that Ankallys had disappeared.
* * * * *
DUNGEON DESCRIPTION
(N.B. Some parts of the following have been censored to protect the integrity of the DM's nefarious and evil plans for the Party.)
The Broken Temple of Karg
Nine miles north of Bornhavn, the Sweetvale River flows down out of the hills of the Great North Woods to join the Stjerneflade. Here lies the town of Ganesford. It’s an old town; folk have been crossing the Sweetvale Shallows here for nigh on a thousand years.
A mile south of Ganesford, the Nordvej runs past a high cliff. Centuries ago, the cliff collapsed, spilling a broad fan of earth down the hillside, burying everything in its path, and covering most of the road down to the riverbank. One of the things that was buried was a Temple to Karg, Lady of Courage and Mistress of Bears; the first such temple to be built in northern Zare after the return of the Powers in the wake of the War of the Shadows. It had been a magnificent structure of limestone and marble, boasting a gigantic statue of Karg herself, carved by hand from marble and carefully gilded – and on that black day, it withstood the terrible force of the landslide intact. But all within it were buried alive, and slew themselves rather than suffer a slow, agonizing death. Many things were buried with them, including the tombs of many heroes and clerics of the Lady, and a mighty religious relic: the Crown of Ekruhalagar. And some things that were even more important: the [CENSORED], and a clue about [CENSORED], the [CENSORED].
After weeks of work, the Nordvej was uncovered, a retaining wall was built, and traffic flowed again on the great highway; but the temple and its final occupants remained forever buried against the cliff. Secrets cannot be hidden from the wise, however; and eventually Oras Rathorn, a wizard and wise man of Vejborg, poring over ancient documents and land grants, discovered the location of the temple and the records of the mighty treasures it contained. Gathering his apprentices, henchmen, and an army of miners, he set out for the North.
He passed through Bornhavn some months ago and took rooms at the Gane's Tankard Tavern, setting up his headquarters at the Traveller’s Rest, an inn on the south bank of the Sweetvale near the ford. It took weeks of effort to pin down the exact location of the temple; but once he had done so, Rathorn began to ply his mighty magicks to move the earth and uncover its secrets. Much to his sorrow; for the ground remained terribly unstable, and just as he was casting his spells to remove the last of the dirt from the mighty front gates of the temple, his magicks triggered an enormous earthquake, and the cliff collapsed anew. The quake was felt for miles in every direction, and this time the fall was terrible, tearing away the front of the temple, and hurling its mighty stones down the cliff and into the river. The Nordvej, Rathorn’s camp, his followers, and the wizard himself were all buried under countless tons of earth and rubble.
The only survivor was Ankallys, one of his apprentices, who had been out hunting for herbs and spell components in the forests south of the temple. She returned after the quake to find her master, her friends, and all of their possessions buried alive under thousands of tonnes of earth and rock. The slide had torn away the front of the cliff, spilling dirt and rock splinters down the hill, reburying the Nordvej and dropping the detritus of ages in a dark fan into the river.
As Ankallys struggled to find some sign of her vanished colleagues, she saw enormous blocks of worked white stone projecting out of the morass, and here and there, jagged broken pieces of enormous marble pillars. And then she saw what was clearly a sarcophagus. She raised her eyes; sixty feet up the collapsed cliff, the interior of the broken temple yawned darkly.
Hours later, she was still digging frantically through the rubble, finding only detritus and the dead, when a pair of riders arrived from the north and offered to assist. The trio was hard at work later that evening, when a party of three adventurers, accompanied by an enormous silver wolf, trotted up the Nordvej from the South.
Ankallys will absolutely insist that the party do everything in its power to recover the Crown; only by selling it could she hope to pay off her Master’s (and therefore her) debts and avoid being sold into servitude. At the same time, however, she will be searching frantically for the Tomb of Moldukar, the High Priest of the Temple from 41-101 (New Hope), at the time when many of the [CENSORED] were being hidden away forever. She will do everything she can to recover [CENSORED].
Timeline:
1) 1 hour after party leaves Bornhavn: EARTHQUAKE (rumbling, shaking, trees swaying, rocks rolling down hillside towards river); Wilderness Lore or History DC 20 to figure strength (moderately strong) and location of epicentre (somewhere not far to the north)
2) 30 minutes after quake, they can see the north tip of Sweetvale Island, marking the point where the Sweetvale River flows out of the Western hills to join with the Stjerneflade. At this point, they notice brown mud-swirls coming downstream, followed by enormous tree-trunks and broken branches. At the same time, Bjorn and Lyra come upon Ankallys digging frantically through the dirt.
3) 30 minutes later the Party enters a part of the road with high cliffs on the left, and a steep slope down to the Sweetvale River on the right
3) An hour after that, they round a bend and see a huge swath of the cliffs have collapsed, leaving a denuded landscape that head more than a mile up the hillside to their left. There is still a haze of dust in the air, and they can see enormous trees have been uprooted and cast down the cliff. The landslide has covered the Nordvej for at least a mile, and spills into the Sweetvale River.
[SPOT DC 14] You can see two figures down by where the slide enters the water, a mile or so away. They appear to be digging.
AREA DESCRIPTIONS
Note: Lettered descriptions refer to large areas; numbered descriptions refer to specific encounter areas.
A) The Road and the River
The Nordvej has been buried under 20’ of rock, earth and uprooted trees for a distance of nearly a mile. The landslide stretches all the way down to the river, and into it; but the force of the current is rapidly washing the fallen dirt and trees away, leaving only the large rocks behind.
Here and there on the slide can be seen enormous, squared building stones a yard on a side; most of them are chiselled and gray, but some are white and have been polished smooth.
If the location of Rathorn’s Camp can be ascertained with any reliability (Knowledge(Geography) DC 20 followed by Survival DC 20), it would still take 10 man-days to dig down to it (no more than 4 men working at a time). Everyone is of course dead, although there is a small chance of recovering Rathorn’s magical possessions: [CENSORED].
B) The Slope and the Rivulet
The slope from the Nordvej up to the Temple is precipitous; it starts at 30 degrees and is closer to 45 near the temple. It is jumbled with stones, tree trunks, building materials and such, and is very unstable. Here and there, wall stones and floor tiles can be seen. There are a half-dozen enormous, broken marble pillars scattered here and there; if these begin to roll, anyone below will be in a world of hurt. Finally, three of the Temple’s stone sarcophagi have slid down the hillside.
A Knowledge: Engineering/Geography or Survival check (DC 16) reveals that the slope is extremely unstable and could collapse at any time. Anyone climbing up the slope must make a successful climb check (DC 16) to reach the bottom of the temple foundation. The results of failure are as follows:
Failure by 1-4 pts: a large stone or log is dislodged, rolls downhill. Everyone on downhill slope must make Reflex Save (DC 14) at +6 or take 1d6 damage.
Failure by 5-8 pts: several logs and stones are dislodged; everyone downslope must make a Reflex Save (DC 16) at +3 or take 3d6 damage.
Failure by 9+ pts: a swath of the hillside is disrupted; everyone downslope must make a reflex save (DC 18) or take 6d6 damage. Person on slope must make reflex save (DC 15) or take 3d6 damage and end up buried alive
Critical Failure (natural 1): the landslide is restarted; person on slope and everyone downslope must make a Reflex Save (DC 20) or take 8d6 damage and be buried alive
1. Broken sarcophagus
This stone sarcophagus is badly damaged, having rolled several times. Climb DC 10 to reach it. The lid has been smashed partially off; it contains dry, desiccated bones and the remains of fine clerical robes. The body has a cloth-of-gold cincture (worth 150 gp if cleaned and restored) and a tarnished silver symbol of Karg on a heavy silver chain (worth 75 gp if cleaned).
2. Intact sarcophagi
Both of these sarcophagi slid rather than rolled, and are relatively intact. The Climb DCs are 14 for the lower and 16 for the higher. Both contain dry, desiccated skeletons in priestly robes over rusted chainmail. The lower one is garbed in a once-rich but now rotting silk surcoat emblazoned with the sigul of Karg. The upper one contains a MW longsword and gilded scabbard (good condition, 500 gp) and a large wooden shield (rotting) marked with the remains of the symbol of Karg.
C) The Buried Temple
Note: If any of the intact tombs within the temple are disturbed, party will be attacked by 1d4 Allips, the spirits of those who died alone and in the dark.
To get from the bottom of the temple foundations to the temple interior requires a Climb check (DC 20).
3. The temple interior and the rivulet
The temple is 60’ wide, with 30’ high walls and a barrel-vaulted ceiling that arches to 60’ in the middle. The ceiling is supported by massive marble pillars 5’ in diameter and 45’ high; these are highly polished. The floor is made of sandstone, with polished marble tiles leading down towards the nave, and off between the pillars on both sides. The walls are greyish-green stone; the doors running down the sides are constructed of some sort of black stone, harder than iron, and highly polished.
Near the opening where the temple walls have been smashed away, the floor tiles are loose and prone to tilt, and occasionally a stone falls from the broken ceiling. The creaking of overstressed rock is everywhere. Piles of fallen rock and broken ceiling stones lie here and there on the floor, and pools of stagnant, reeking water can be seen dotting the marble. A trickle of water no more than a few feet wide and a dew inches deep snakes down the apse towards the opening; water runs down the newly-broken cliff-face.
4. The Violet Fungus colony
A colony of 2 large Violet Fungi, surrounded by 8 Shriekers and the skeletons of many dead rodents, clusters around this pillar. They have no treasure.
5. The Gray Ooze
This puddle resembles the other water puddles so closely that a Spot Check (DC 15) within 30’ is necessary to detect it. It will lash out at any living creature that comes into range, and will follow any that retreat. It has no treasure.
6. The Sarcophagus of Nambris
This sarcophagus is one of the only ones with intact writings on the surface; it is carved of limestone and inset with pieces of mother-of-pear. The insets spell out “Nambris, Warrior of Karg. Born 28, Died 69, Age of New Hope. Rest Well in the Mistress’ Arms”. It contains the desiccated skeleton of a mighty human warrior more than 7’ tall, wearing rusty ancient full plate, and bearing a rusty greatsword. The cadaver wears fine vambraces, silvered and inlaid with mother-of-pearl, easily worth 500 gp.
(More to follow)
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