The Circle of the Scale

A brief three chapter recap…

Module 1: The Rat King

The recently freed Human Gladiator; Fortu, the thrill seeking Elven Archer; Arowe and the Orc raised Halfling Tracker; Liga Bur met up, travelling on foot through the region of, magic-use-restricted, Stowan, toward Scar Borough. Though cautious at first, they found themselves bonding after rescuing a naked, demi-elven Bard; Rifkin from a band of bandits, lead by the Afro-haired; Spider Murphy. Only he escaped the slaughter by taking to the trees, after swearing his revenge on Rifkin.

In town, the newly formed, four-man, Party encountered the usual corrupt town guards and spent some time at the town fete, where they met a worryingly convincing fortune teller; Madame Morgana, a troop of acrobat Halflings and several travelling merchants, including potion seller; Al-Khemi.

Then, hired as a group by the leader of the small town; Sir Briefadel, to discover what happened to Rat-catcher; Hamlyn and why an outlying tannery hadn’t made two scheduled deliveries. The Party found everyone dead, including the hung-by-the-neck; Hamlyn and were soon set upon by a crazed old Druid leading a mass of rats of various sizes. The battle was fierce but, despite being bitten and infected, the four adventurers managed to kill Koenig and survive. On their return to town, they passed on a map they’d found and the magical set of ‘rat summoning’ panpipes to Sir Briefadel.

Module 2: The Wolf Pact

Impressed by the Party’s tenacity, Sir Briefadel recruited them to accompany himself and his personal Wizard; Egrow-the-Magnificent, to find the magical pool deep within the Feylands shown on the map. 

During their horseback (aside from the Mir Hundur riding Liga Bur) journey, they encountered wild boars, bears and a little fox before finally arriving at a hidden glade. Once there, they battled strange hybrid creatures, such as the owl-horse; Howl, the orc-scorpion; Scorcion and the half-halfling, half-human; Three-Quarterling. Sir Briefadel took great delight in crushing the pacifistic, in-a-fish-form Three-Quarterling and killing him. Slightly disturbed by his behaviour, the Party searched the Three-Quarterling’s comfortable and fortified den. Enraged by finding ‘the wrong pool’ Sir Briefadel commissioned the Party to search on without him, as he rode back with Egrow to Scar Borough.

Travelling on with a rescued, old hawk-dog; Dawk, the Party encountered a tribe of Centaurs lead by the handsome; Prince Tsigan and after sparing their lives, were invited back to speak to his Father and chief; Rozinante. Though suspicious, the Party were welcomed and actively helped by the inner group of malformed Centaurists.

Next came a malevolent talking tree and then a wolf-pack, led by the Werewolf; Kane. Those battles were hard and the Party were lucky to escape unscathed. Then came the Dryad archer ambush and the discovery of the second magical pool and its Fey goddess guardian; Estrid.

But before trust could be earned from either side, the glade was overrun with Human soldiers! Sir Briefadel had planted a small scrying device, hidden in one of the horses saddlebags and used his Witch ally; Morgana to help him create a portal, linking Estrid’s glade to the Courtyard in Scar Borough. The battle was fierce and brutal with the tiny Fey Pixies, Nixies and Dryads trading their lives for their Queen. Realising the treachery, Fortu found himself fighting back-to-back with the charming Satyr, Magritte and Liga Bur and Arowe picking off the Human soldiers from protected positions atop the rocky formations. Despite their ‘cold-iron’ weapons though, the Human soldiers were quickly overwhelmed and it became apparent that they were just being used as a distraction so Sir Briefadel could reach the pool unconfronted. He and his, suspiciously clever Hawk, successfully made it through the hidden dimensional gateway, deep below the pool but the ‘Wizard’ Egrow was caught and stopped by Liga Bur.

Realising his dire situation, Sergeant Philco and a few of his men surrendered but they were butchered anyway, alongside their blinded Captain and the bleeding Egrow. Fortu was appalled but wise enough to keep the worst of his anger to himself.

Module 3: The Givrad Void

In exchange for her gratitude and the lives of the three surviving town guards; Henshaw, Doberman and Barbella, the Party agreed to help Estrid and persued the dastardly Sir Briefadel through the void. Whatever plans he had, he mustn’t be allowed back through the portal!

After a disconcerting journey, the, now enlarged, Party travelled to an ice world called Kik-ri, where they encountered a gigantic, burrowing insectoid monster and a friendly Frost giant called; Droofin.

Then they travelled to a three-sunned, desert world called Calcinta. After a skirmish with a group of human, snake and monkey zombies, they were back on Sir Briefadel’s trail and Liga Bur led them to an oasis, where they met a strange but welcoming merchant of magic; Whackeem. After that Arowe killed a highflying hawk before the Party were hunted down and captured by its owner, a wrathful slaver, Magician; Moody and his mounted swordsmen. Only Rifkin managed to escape, thanks to the aid of the (magical bangle) summoned Tsigan.

Fortu then realised, to his horror, that he (and his companions) had been returned to the slave arena. After several fraught death-matches, the Party managed to escape during an attempted city revolt and Rifkin’s cleverly timed rescue plan. They then, by an accident of fate, encountered and captured the very slaver that put them in that predicament. Moody pleaded for his life, but after unwillingly guiding the Party to the, apparently mythical ‘Singing Tower’, Fortu slit his throat.

More giant insectoid, pounce-predator creatures caused a moment of fright and the strange, targeted and protracted, dream harassment of Liga Bur, but the Halfling Ranger still successfully led the Party to the mystically shrouded tower.

Dulcetta’s tower itself was full of traps and tricks but it also acted as a prison to several other apparent malefactors, such as Dijonn the tiny fire elemental and Pardrik the teenage ghost guard. After rescuing them and evading the living green slime, Fortu, Arowe, Liga Bur, Rifkin, Henshaw, Doberman and Barbella finally caught up with Sir Briefadel again and his beautiful, raven-haired Mother. After rejecting his offer to join him, there was a brief melee, after which they fled on flying horseback.

Giving up any hope of still being able to track them down, the Party headed back to the void and to Estrid’s pool, where, despite their failure, they were welcomed with open arms, genuine smiles, music, sex, food and wine.

Liga Bur was forced to sacrifice himself for his friends though, after the mighty Thornberg demanded restitution for the deaths of three of his brothers. The Halfling was forced to give up his lance, his bow and a year of his life to join Thornberg’s Druidic brotherhood; ‘The Circle of the Scale’.

Now though, decisions must be made.

Next…

Module 4: Return of the Demon

One for All

The music and wine continue to flow but the massive figure of Thornberg, standing back in the shadows of the surrounding trees, finally makes his looming presence felt. His voice is both deep and grave.

“I’m glad that The five of you made it back safely from the void between worlds, but I also want you to know, that I know what you’ve done. Three members of my brotherhood have been killed in the last few months and I knew that you were involved somehow. Koenig, the Three-Quarterling and Zephir.”

The monstrous brown bear growls to reinforce Thornberg’s menacing tone,

“However, Zephir of the oasis was killed before you’d even arrived there and I cannot blame you for carving up his mindless, reanimated corpse. You had a hand in the death of the pacifistic Three-Quarterling but not the murder itself, but his father? You are, all four of you, responsible for Koenig’s death. He may have been over-zealous and acting far beyond his remit, but he was still a member of the Circle of the Scale and a price must be paid. Balance must be restored and although our creed is usually a life for a life, many voices has spoken up for you. From the little fox to Droofin the Frost-giant. As such, instead of death, one of your group must relinquish their current life and swear allegiance to our order.”

The adventurers respond very differently to this surprising news. Man of few words; Fortu reaches for the hilt of his indestructible sword, Rifkin opens his mouth, searching for a convincing argument to use in their defence but Liga Bur does the opposite, biting down to prevent himself revealing his true thoughts. It is the Elf; Arowe though, who breaks the silence.

“I’ll do it. To save my friends, I’ll join your Brotherhood.”

The bulky, bearded Druid’s eyes widen in response before laughing it off.

“Tis a surprisingly noble offer Elf, but the choice has already been made. The Halfling has already received rudimentary training and possesses a natural aptitude for our craft. What say you Liga Bur?”

Pitched to the Rats

Well before the swift Arowe reaches the top of the final, curving stairwell, he starts to make out an eerily familiar music. The tune is different and the musician, less well practiced but the tone of the instrument... 

He recognises it; Panpipes! Just like the ones used by the stinky, Human Druid; Koenig in the tannery all those months ago, when he played them to summon hordes of filthy, disease carrying rats. 

It's with a seething indignation, that Arowe remembers personally handing the magical instrument over to Sir Briefadel to sell for them. Worse, now he realises that the wretched Human never even found a buyer. Never even looked for one. He just bare-faced lied about it and kept the magical panpipes for himself!

Arowe grinds his pearly white teeth as he suddenly understands the why. Sir Briefadel had spent decades researching how to save his Mother and must have known, that to breach the tower's illusionary outer barrier, he needed a magical instrument. The double-dealing Human had probably been searching for one for years... He'd probably, secretly sent them all on that first mission just to retrieve it!

Despite his initial anger at this realisation, the tall Elf can't help but smile wryly at the irony of the situation. Their penultimate test as a Party is going to be a repeat of one of their first ones. 

Rats! 

Lots of rats! 

Lots and lots of rats!

This time though, he and his friends won't be caught by surprise.

I Know What You Did Last Summer

Emerging from a thicket of oak trees on the edge of the wood, Thornberg finds himself, now well within the Human realms. Sniffling at the air, he immediately smells the lingering, acrid hint of burnt wood and damp thatch but it still takes him a few minutes before he actually finds the remnants of the tannery.

Searching the partially burned down and abandoned buildings, the big Druid and his even bigger bear companion, discover several burned human corpses, a score of crisped, giant rat bodies and countless fire-shrivelled normal ones, before they actually find Koenig.

The great bear; Bamse tracks him down to the tree-line on the opposite side of the small settlement. His body twisted and burnt beyond recognition. Tragically, the dead, lacerated dog-sized rat, sprawled protectively across him, gives him away.

Thornberg can’t help but voice his inner thoughts; the words emerging through his thick beard, deep and gruff.

“That’s Koenig all right. His giant rat familiar; Francis obviously died desperately trying to defend his master, long after he'd been struck down.”

Wandering over to the riverbank, the gigantic Bamse moves to lap at the cool water but looks up at Thornberg for permission.

“Go ahead bear. The toxic elements from the tanning process seem to be long gone. Koenig’s letters had said that the fish here were all dead but I see plenty of healthy ones swimming around now.”

While the enormous brown bear splashes joyfully into the refreshing water, the bulky Druid, once again, moves to commune with the witness trees, just to confirm what he’s already, almost, nearly, completely certain of.

Bearing Down on the Truth

After camping the night outside the dead Three-Quarterling’s too cosy for comfort, low ceilinged cave-like home, the huge Druid Thornberg ruffles his great bear companion’s thick furry brow and sets back out in the morning. Not for the Goddess Estrid’s magical glade, but instead to his ‘Circle of the Scale’ brother Koenig’s wooden-shack home. He will need to be told of his son’s untimely death.

Koenig; the self proclaimed 'Rat King’! Weirdly, he hadn’t heard from him in over a month. No rambling letters or requests for assistance against the ‘foul’ Human polluters. Another mystery ripe for solving.

After muttering a few incantations to reinforce the Three-Quarterling’s wavering wards protecting the magical pool, Thornberg beseeches the only large tree in the hidden garden for access back into the 'Green path'. The old oak shimmers with deep magic and seemingly splits open to allow the large Thornberg and his even larger bear passage toward the Human realm.

Despite the distance, it only takes a few hours to traverse the network of trees and Thornberg emerges mere yards from Koenig’s ramshackle hut. Sniffing loudly, the oversized brown bear, Bamse pads forward unafraid.

There's no-one here and judging from the rotten fruit and vegetables in what passes for a kitchen, Koenig’s not been here for weeks! 

Thornberg frowns and grumbles to his ever-near bear.

"Could the old coot be dead, and if so, what… or who killed him?"

Treasures Past and Present

After the battle is done, the campfire lit and Henshaw's stoved-in ribs tended to, Rifkin moves to help Liga Burr rummage around the magically cooled tent of the now twice killed Druid.

Despite Sir Briefadel obviously beating them here with hours to spare and murdering Zepyr and his menagerie, he seems to have taken nothing more than, perhaps a map or two... And one of the ugly, oversized, hump-backed horses. Just as before, as in the underground home of the slaughtered Three-Quarterling, the dark knight is obviously searching for something far more precious than mere gold or magical trinkets.

Rifkin hears the Human guardsman Henshaw outside, negotiating for his groups ongoing fee with Arowe, before he wanders in and offers to help parcel out the found coins and gems. The demi-elf's initially suspicious of the man's intentions, but after carefully scrutinising the tall, blond, jug-eared Human divide the treasure into seven neatly separated piles, he can't fault the man's maths or understanding of lowest common denominators. 

Henshaw is no fool and, more surprisingly... Apparently honest!

The three human soldiers all gladly accept their one-third gold shares but express no desire for any of the magical trinkets or scrolls found. Henshaw's interest is piqued though, when Rifkin empties his knapsack to repack and reveals the dead werewolf Kane's twin magical cold-iron short-swords.

"Instead of a share of the magical loot won 'ere today, can Barbella and I 'ave one of these matchin' swords each?"

No-one in the party objects and the two soldiers seem very pleased with their acquisitions.

Doberman however, happily sits, cross-legged by the fire, watching the dissected zombie parts crackle and burn, whilst simultaneously seeing how many coins he can stuff into his oversized, drooling mouth. Barbella counts them for him, after he spits them out, and the answer's apparently; sixty-one... But the brutish Doberman might have accidentally swallowed a couple.


Treasure:

Arrow:

Sling +1
Small wooden box containing 20 Lead bullets and two small leather ammo pouches.
Three small jars containing Magic stone oil.
7 Gems (Worth 50gp each)
82gp
28sp
19cp


Fortu:

Magical Ring of Climbing +5
6 Gems (Worth 50gp each)
132gp
28sp
19cp


Liga Burr:

Scroll of Animal Growth (Needs to be studied)
Scroll of Summon Nature's Ally 4 (Needs to be studied)
6 Gems (Worth 50gp each)
132gp
28sp
19cp


Rifkin:

Scroll of Summon Swarm
Scroll of Cure Moderate Wounds
3 Gems (Worth 50gp each)
68gp
15sp
10cp


Henshaw:

Cold-Iron Short sword +1 (No glow)
2 Gems (Worth 50gp each)
44gp
10sp
7cp


Barbella:

Cold-Iron Short sword +1 (No glow)
2 Gems (Worth 50gp each)
44gp
10sp
7cp


Doberman:

2 Gems (Worth 50gp each)
44gp
10sp
7cp


Items added to Rifkin's pack:

Silver Sickle +1 (Glows)
Delicate Paper Magical Wind fan

Everyone keep up to date with your magic and coinage... It 'might' be important later.

Study Notes

With the fire banked and roaring, their stomachs full and their wine glasses topped up, the four adventurers rifle through all the letters, notes, sketches, maps and journals.

Their are only two maps. The first leading from the Three-Quarterling's cave to a large blackened and twisted tree. The second leading back towards Scar Burrow and showing Koenig's hidden forest base.

There are also only two sets of letters. The larger pile are all from Koenig, who you also knew as the Rat King. They are written in the secret language of the Druids and mostly indecipherable but Liga Bur recognises a few words from his training under the orc trackers from his tribe. 'Love', 'Father' and 'Son' are the most obvious but a few others also stand out... 'Poison', 'Humans' and 'Confict'. The second, smaller pile are from another Druid called Thornberg but unfortunately, Liga Bur can translate nothing additional from these.

The notes and sketches are obviously the result of years of observation. There are literally scores of self-portraits of the Three-Quarterling himself and drawings of the now dead Owl/Horse: Howl and Orc/Scorpion: Scorcion plus the very-much-alive Dog/Hawk: Dork.

Just by quickly scanning through, you soon find several dozen drawings of the horse-headed man you encountered a few days ago. 'Charlie-Horse', the Centaurs had called him. You also find references to the Cat/Raven hybrids: Cravens. One of which was brought down by Sir Briefadel's trained falcon.

Bizarre looking as most of them are, some of the other names make you laugh. A huge, powerfully built wolf-like creature with monstrous Boar tusks is labelled a War and an oversized rabbit with short curled horns, weird horizontal slit goat eyes and a long chin beard called a Grabbit.

The journals are mostly just sad and lonely diary entries but a few of them contain useful information about the groups' current situation.

'Normals are completely safe from the magical pools influence whilst within these cave walls but will be again vulnerable immediately upon leaving.'

'Even when a Normal has resisted once, that resistance will only last until the next sunrise.'

'When a Normal has resisted the strongest call of the pool thrice times, he is forevermore immune to its influence.'

Another entry explains why the Three-Quarterling was able to coexist with the Howl, the Scorcion and specifically, the terrifying Beer.

'Hybrids have an inherent understanding and sympathy for each other. Whatever their intelligence, they will never attack another Hybrid.'

Just then, Liga Bur's sturdy dog; Mir Hundur wanders in looking very pleased with himself. The creepy black remains of one of the loose Bat/Beetle: Battles, hanging limp from his mouth.

The Way we Were...

The winding path, leading up to where 'old-mad' Konig's map shows the magic pool to be, is both steep and narrow and therefore potentially treacherous for the hesitant horses. Due to that, Sir Briefadel orders the now provenly ineffective wizard; Egrow to wait at the bottom of the path to guard the entrance and prevent their mounts from wandering off.
As the others start up the path, they feel a vague tugging in their minds. A subtle urge to move forward but nothing they can't or want to resist.
The party scale the rocky pass and after half-an-hour or so, eyes shining with an inner zeal, Sir Briefadel clambers up the final few stone steps to reveal the hidden garden in all its glory.
Barely able to suppress a shout of joy, he growls out, "I've finally found it! The answer to my all my prayers!".
Silently signaling to Arowe, the lithe elf slips past him and, keeping low, creeps silently through the suddenly long and lush grass.
The secret glade is breathtakingly beautiful with a carpet of grass, abundant fruit trees and several carefully cultivated vegetable patches. Sunlight sparkles off a waterfall at the far side that pours into a freshwater pool below, some of which has been diverted to irrigate the stepped crops and hanging garden.
Aside from the difficult to find entrance though, the whole area is contained within sheer cliff-like vertical walls. Each stoney face between twenty to thirty feet high and so steep to be almost impossible to climb unassisted.
From his concealed vantage point behind a large pear tree, heavy with sweet aromatic fruit, Arowe can only see two creatures out in the open. A disconcertingly small looking, red haired man, dressed in simple robes tending to his crops and an even odder looking ruffled horse, head stooped, drinking from the pool.
Neither seem to have noticed him and, after sharing a look and affirmative nod from Sir Briefadel, The elven archer fires three arrows in rapid succession into the feathery flanks of the monstrous horse.
The tranquillity suddenly shattered, the 'horse' rears and squawks in rage. The way its head unnaturally revolves all the way around, reveals it to be more monstrous than even Arowe suspected, with huge saucer-like eyes and vicious beak! He also notices with alarm that the arrows he'd fired from his recently acquired magical bow, seemed to have barely penetrated it's thick, feather-covered hide.
The tiny man, blue eyes wide and terrified, instinctively seeks shelter and dashes behind another of the bountiful fruit trees, out of the sharp eyed Arowe's line of sight.
It matters not though, as Sir Briefadel, Fortu and the halfling Liga Bur, astride his faithful hound, rush into the fray.
Arowe, Liga Bur and Fortu face off against the ferocious owl-headed horse, while the heavily armoured Sir Briefadel rushes directly toward the small man cowering behind the tree.
The little man proves a frustrating opponent however, as he runs around the trees to avoid Sir Briefadel's deadly sword, whilst simultaneously seeming to both heal and enhance his horse-like companion.
Suddenly a tiny, blood-red tauric creature scuttles from a cave mouth and hurls itself at the comparitively enormous Fortu. It has the legs, body, claws and stinger of a scorpion but the torso, arms and head of a minuture orc. Spittle flying from it's miniscule mouth, it screams,
"I'LL STING YOU GOOD, YOU BIG, UGLY, STUPID, GIANT!"
Finding purchase, its pincers grip on to Fortu's flesh, as it attempts to bring its poisonous stinger into play. Unable to use his gigantic blade properly in such close quarters, Fortu is forced to use it to literally scrape it off of him like a giant razor.
A red and yellow smear is all that remains as the dissected Scorcion body falls lifeless to the ground.
Between them, Arowe and Liga Bur drive arrow after arrow into the maddened Howl's feathery, leathery hide and Sir Briefadel manages to corner the three-quarter scale druid against the stone wall beside the magical pool.
With one last, desperate squawk, The abomination between owl and horse takes a final arrow direct to the eye from the too swift, Liga Bur and dies on the spot.
It's only then, that the undefinable pull to approach the pool and drink from its water, manages to overcome both Arowe's mental defences and Liga Bur's faithful mount; Mir Hundur.
Like sleepwalkers they turn and plod directly towards the calling pool but are both stopped by the quick witted actions of Fortu and Liga Bur.
The battle hardened Halfling, uses his mounts harness and his own riding skills to wrestle the big dog into temporary compliance. The beefy ex-gladiator though, is forced to snare his errant team-mate with his ever-ready battle-net.
With all hope seemingly lost, the too-small-to-be-a-man, simultaneously leaps away from Sir Briefadel while transforming into a catfish mid-air, as he dives into the shimmering water.
Standing at the edge of the magical pool he'd so keenly sought and momentarily confused, Sir Briefadel curses to the heavens!

It's only then that the bard Rifkin's inspiring music stops and a deadly hush descends across the glade... 

Rat King Panpipes

 

Behind the Scenes, Before the fight, Outside the Tannery Barn

 

Surprisingly Good Haul

Dragging the rat king Koenig and his dire rat general a safe distance from the burning buildings, the four adventurers sort out the loot.
Rifkin seems to have a good grasp of what's what and makes some informed guesses.
Pipes of the Sewers?
Silver sickle +1?
Wand of Healing?
Amulet of Health?
Potion of Bulls strength?
Potion of Barkskin?
12gp, 8sp, 14cp.
Most interestingly though, inside the waterproof scroll case, you find a tattered Map showing the location of a 'magical' pond.
After the flames die down you also find that, although singed, the finished Leathers are mostly salvageable and the dead tannery workers and the rat catcher you gather up a few more coins.
33gp, 48sp, 76cp.

Riffling through the Rats and Rags

Although several of the outbuildings of the tannery are aflame behind them, Fortu, Arowe and Liga Burr quickly search through the filthy and raggedy clothes of the old mystic.
Most of his stuff seems worthless but you do discover the previously heard pan-pipes, a coin purse, a couple of potion bottles, a silver scythe, a scroll case and an odd looking, engraved wooden stick. Only the urbane Arowe recognises it for the wand it is. Unfortunately the symbols carved into it mean nothing to him and give no clue to its purpose.
The Halfling Liga Burr though is much more interested in the amulet hanging from the chain around the giant rat's neck. Despite the blood and grime covering it, he can sense its power.
Baffled by the items, the practically minded Fortu skirts the flames and releases the two tethered mules before their building catches alight.
Aside from that, there's not much the trio of injured adventurers can do to prevent all of the closely built, wooden and thatch outbuildings burning down. Only the main building escapes that charcoal fate.
While the fires are still raging, the slightly elf Rifkin wanders back to find his previously semi-abandoned friends.
"Thank Olidammara that you're safe! I was worried that you were all rat food! Did you hear me though? I tried to help from where I was..."
The three burned and rat bitten warriors turn to him and stare.
Ignoring the silence, the foppishly dressed bard spots the wand and coos.
"Blimey, that's going to be useful!"