The worst laid plans of Hags and Witches

Leaving the glaring adventurers standing far below, as she spirals upwards through the night rain, Megarna scowls in irritation. Mallophor and Danté had been right, there had been no sign of the Elven Archer; Arowe. Worse, whoever this Dwarven War-priest replacement was, if left unchecked, he was surely going to become an ongoing problem. 

None of Viccissa’s prediction's had ever mentioned a Dwarf or Cleric being involved, and her new augur recruit; Kasandra, could only recently, give even the vaguest of information. It was as if he’d been maliciously thrown into the established flow of fate, like a large rock tossed into the stream of destiny, disrupting its proper path and, potentially, altering its final destination.

What did this mean to her Mistress’s; Hetzabah’s carefully conceived plans? What did it mean to her Mistress’s Master; Zartak’s endgame?!

On a more personal note, Megarna coldly considers how a Clerics involvement might negatively affect the quarter-century old trap she’d laid for the traitoress’s son; Fortu… 

Although, she hadn’t even known his name back then.

Suddenly reversing her frown, the old Witch cackles loudly.

“It matters not, I did as my Mistress; Hetzabah commanded and gave the Gladiator one more, final, final, final chance. The next time we meet will certainly mean his death and the deaths of all of his associates. Viccissa’s cage can remain just a… Dead end.”

Race to save Murmel!

Another looooooong and unresolved all combat session, but you’re painfully close to victory.

Will ‘is-he-or-isn’t-he-there’ Banaal be able to save his own stubborn ass?

Will ‘I’m the door!’ Fortu continue ‘Great cleaving’ through whoever/whatever advances toward him.

Will Liga Bur ever sacrifice the warm and cuddly protective cover of his nigh indestructible hound and risk actually getting injured?

Will Rifkin’s ‘Alarm stone’ ever stop its annoying shrieking?

Will Locket ever manage to hit anything with his crossbow?

Did his brothers; Ringo and Chape, go overboard by over boarding up the first floor windows?

Is Deo being a good doggy and comforting poor frightened Rebecca in the attic?

With vast area spells, freakishly high Armour classes, massive damage output and incredibly high Hit points, you may just pull through…

Below are all my currently available dates over the next two months.

Check your diaries and let me know when you’re free to resolve this bloody mess of an encounter. Next session will hopefully be more talky-talky, less choppy-choppy.

October

24th  Saturday 

25th Sunday

November

7th Saturday

8th Sunday

21st Saturday 

22nd Sunday 

28th Saturday

29th Sunday 

Edit: We have an early winner!

Sunday the 25th of October. 9am start.

(I’m currently available for that date but I’ve got a possible, personal hiccup. We’ll say it’s on until/unless I say otherwise.)

Bunch of Queries

A few unknown questions came up during the last session and I mostly hand-waved them away, but now that I’ve a little more (out of game) time…

(Core book reading and internet sleuthing.)

Banaal’s almost forgotten ‘Cloak of Etherealness’.

Although it’s a magical item and requires no material components or somatic gestures, it still requires a Standard action to activate AND deactivate.

The activation command word is: ‘Otherworld’ as you raise the hood over your head.

You become both invisible, inaudible AND ethereal.

You exist simultaneously in both worlds. Gravity doesn’t affect you but momentum still does.

You can move (half base speed) in any direction; up, down, left and right etc.

You can only hear and see sixty feet, and only then in muted… tones.

Force effects spells from the material plane (such as Magic missile) can still affect you but it doesn’t work in reverse.

You can use the cloak for a total of ten minutes a day but you can break that up into ten one minute blocks.

If you ‘solidify’ inside a solid object, you take 1d6 for every five feet you’re shunted to safety.

Fighting defensively.

If you use this style, you gain +2 to your Armour Class but suffer a -4 to hit with all attacks that round. You can combine this with ‘Combat expertise’ if chosen. Henshaw exploited this tactic fanatically.

The ‘Total defence’ action.

Total Defence means putting all your effort into protecting yourself at the expense of attacking. It’s a ‘Standard action’ so you’re still able to take a single ‘Move action’. +4 to your Armour Class but not attack. You cannot combine this with ‘Combat expertise’ or ‘Fighting defensively’. You also can make no ‘Attacks of Opportunity’.

Dispel magic.

Scott/Liga Bur tried this (experience bonus) nice idea against the possession of the Red-eyed Orcs. I was impressed with the thought process AND the fact that you were actively trying to liberate the Orcish slaves.

Good job!

Sadly for you and the Orc meat puppets, this is a (Spell-like effect) deeper magic by a Creature with a caster level of twenty! This means (even if I allowed it) you’d have to beat a Thirty-one!

Holy Smite

Fourth level Cleric spell that does 4d8 damage to evil creatures and characters in 20’ radius burst AND it blinds for one round. 180’ range for centre. Will save for half damage and no blindness. Good characters are unaffected and Neutral characters take only half damage (a quarter if saved).

Cleave and Greater Cleave.

I muddied the water by adding regenerating creatures and allowing you to use the cleave action on them, with the proviso that taking them down to -10 would activate a further cleave. I was mistaken. If you down an opponent, you activate the cleave but you do not get one for killing an already downed opponent. You can target a downed opponent but killing him won’t trigger a further cleave action.

High Armour Class protects against critical hits.

With three Party ‘Armour Classes’ in the twenties, I was statistically hitting you guys about one in five attempts. I also realised on my occasional natural twenties, that even when I critical hit, I would generally miss on my ‘confirmation' hit. Meaning that a high Armour class also offers a pretty decent protection from those double and triple damage attacks!

Bardic ‘Inspire Courage’ ability.

Sadly, this bonus moral +1 applies only to Melee Attack and Damage rolls within hearing range (300’). It does not affect spells. :(

Anything else  I’ve forgotten?

Crimson Mist

As the sun dips down below the mountains and the veil between worlds weakens, the six, deliberately dismembered, Orc bodies are swallowed up by dark shadows and the pools of sticky blood start to stir. The decapitated torsos and severed limbs shudder and twitch but they’re incapable of housing any form of life now. Broken vessels beyond repair.

Instead, in silent frustration, the dark red blood rises like vapour from the useless corpses, coalescing into an unsettling red mist before slowly, deliberately, creeping up the mountain path in search of fresh hosts. 

(S)Elf Abuse

The Older Grey-Elf; Tamerlane, finally finishes his lengthy explanation, to his recently returned son, before falling silent.

“So you understand now, when I came to see your Mother's people that century-and-a-half ago, we were trying to recruit the High-Elves into attacking Theranthor. The Demon Prince, or so we thought, was semi-permanently dealt with and we’d spent the last hundred years secretly undermining the great Blue Dragon’s support and power. The Grey are more thinkers than fighters though, and we couldn’t do it alone.”

Sitting across from his Grey Elf Father, Arowe pushes his glass of wine away from him. It’s a fine, dry white, but it currently tastes like vinegar in his mouth.

“You tried to recruit the High-Elves to attack the Dragon for you, after actively defending her from them? No wonder you were thrown out of Glendorne’. It wasn’t just the man I thought was my Father who despised your people. Pretty much everyone I knew growing up in Glendorne spoke angrily about the treacherous Grey. ‘Worse than the Drow’ they’d say! Everyone except my Mother, and now, after meeting you, I fully understand why.”

Tamerlane has the grace to place his glass down, unfinished.

“There’s a greater reason why your people… Your Mother’s people hate us. We didn’t just align ourselves with Theranthor, we actively protected her. We fortified her body with our spells. We bolstered her lightning breath with our enchantments. We defended her from all attacks… Even when those attacks were from the other Elven races. She HAD to live long enough to destroy Zartak’s material plane form and drive his essence back to the Nine hells!”

Arowe finds himself scowling. He hadn’t realised until he’d arrived at the mountaintop city of Falutin, how much prejudice against the Grey Elves had permeated his Sylvan heart.

“There HAD to have been a better way?!”

Tamerlane just shakes his head.

“You’ve seen the Tapestry. We had no choice. If the High Elves hadn’t tried to attack her directly while Zartak was still active on this plane, we wouldn’t have been forced to counter-attack them in Theranthor’s defence.”

Arowe bristles.

“It was years before I was born, but I heard the stories. Your people killed hundreds of my people! Uncles, Aunts and Cousins!”

It’s Tamerlane’s turn to get angry.

“Your people?! You’re not ‘Your people’. You’re half ‘My people’. They attacked us! Killed us! I am sorry for all the deaths… On both sides. Unlike the Orcs and the Humans, there are too few of us to spare in unnecessary battles.”

Arowe nods as he calms himself down.

“My Mother used to say that it was a consequence of our long lifespans; Elven children are few and far between.”

Tamerlane mirrors Arowe’s nod.

“Exactly right. Your Mother was always clever… for a High-Elf. That was why, as a race, we had to be practical in our decisions.”

Despite the unconscious but obvious insult aimed at his Mother and the High-elves in general, Arowe smiles ironically at his Father’s assertion.

“Your ‘practical’ decision has come back to haunt you now though, hasn’t it?”

Tamerlane’s grey eyes cast downward, just for a moment.

“Unfortunately, despite our plan succeeding and the Great Dragon; Theranthor defeating the Demon Prince in their final battle. It has made us enemy number two on Zartak’s hit list. Only the relentless Orcan hordes angered him more. It’s almost certainly why he’s using them as meat puppets now to herald his return.”

Cometh the Darkness

Grott-Warren is much as you’d expect of a mining town, even a silver mining town, other than the fact that it’s (almost) completely deserted.

Despite following his parents into the clergy, Banaal was still a Dwarf and all Dwarves knew mining, deep, deep in their bones. These mines are obviously still paying out and this town should be bustling with life.

The town is small though, with the miners generally living beside their current ‘live’  mines and only coming into town for entertainment and supplies.

Now though, from what the evidence shows, everyone, other than the little girl; Rebecca, is likely dead. The coal in the blacksmith’s forge has cooled to warm ash, showing that it’s not been tended in days and almost every ground floor door and window is smashed in. And, most obviously, despite the absence of bodies, there’s blood literally everywhere! 

From the gruesome half-eaten hand you found on the first of the Red-eyes Orc, you suspect what vile purpose the Human and Dwarven corpses are being used for.

It’s still two hours before sunset though, giving you all plenty of time to roughly re-secure the lower floor of the ‘Silver Cave inn’. There’s piles of fresh timber in the general store supply shed, plus hammers and plenty of nails. 

After all the broken furniture is cleared away, everyone could easily fit within the stone walls of the, could be re-fortified, tavern, even Banaal’s faithful mule; Murmel could squeeze in.

There’s also coins in the till and two locked safes in the general store and empty guard house. There’s even several abandoned crates loaded up with silver ore!

Banaal can’t help feel the pull of the silver in his Dwarven soul.

The only other obvious option left open to them is to follow the multiple drag tracks leading away from the town. After a brief search, it becomes apparent that they all converge together into just four bigger trails, each one, presumably, leading to a separate mine

It’s hard to guess the total numbers involved but it’s likely scores… Possibly even  a hundred of them. A daunting number, especially considering the soon to come darkness.

Before she falls asleep beside him, the town’s lone survivor; Rebecca answers all the questions Banaal asks of her, but she’s just six-years-old and a lot of what’s happened is beyond her experience and understanding. It’s obvious though, that her parents locked her in the tavern attic, before they were killed, in a desperate attempt to save her.

Now her tiny, traumatised life is in the hands of the adventurers and, even if they survive this night, it’s still four more nights and days to Chaval; fortified mountaintop capital city of Agentia.

Grayeux Tapestry

Standing in the large, magically illuminated circular room, side by side with his newly discovered Grey-Elf Father, Arowe examines the section of the vast tapestry indicated. The whole tableau is about eight feet tall but is sewn into a hoop-like circle, covering everything except the single entrance. From start to finish, the mostly monochrome tableau must stretch out over several hundred yards.

“What is this place?”

Tamerlane places a reassuring hand on his son’s well-muscled, bow-strengthened shoulder.

“This chamber is called ‘The Circle of Time’. The tapestry was woven by a group of our women over a millennia ago. Women obsessed with their task… Possessed by it, some say. It shows the history… And future of my…of our people.”

Arowe draws his keen eyes back to the tapestry.

“So what exactly is it that I’m looking at?”

Tamerlane tilts his elegant, silver haired head to one side.

“Do you not recognise your pink shirted self?”

Looking again, Arowe’s eyebrows shoot up at the rare splash of colour.

“Yes, that’s me and my friends, but I’ve never fought those weird six-legged panther creatures before…”

And looking further along.

“And I’ve never crossed a river on a burning barge either!”

His, recently reunited with, Father nods. 

“These battles were fated to happen and yet, somehow they didn’t… At least not to you. You were never meant to come here. We were never meant to have met and yet, for some unknown reason, the future’s been disrupted.”

Slightly confused, Arowe pulls a quizzical expression.

“Is that what the first Grey Elf meant when he said ‘I shouldn’t be here’?”

The older, Grey Elf nods. 

“You being here disrupts the grand scheme of what’s meant to happen and what’s not. Although I am glad of this chance to see you, I fear your presence, in a place you were never destined to see, will have long term ramifications on both the Grey Elves and the future of Fissa.”

Running to the end of the tapestry, Arowe comes to the final scene; A huge demon leading a vast army of red-eyed Orcs.

“Do we win?”

Tamerlane unhurriedly catches up.

“As you can see, the tapestry’s predictions are coming to an end, and for the first time in a millennium, we literally have no idea what’s going to happen.”