Fairer Sharer

Without the surprisingly trustworthy Henshaw to help him, Rifkin counts out the gold coins by himself into seven equal piles. Seven equal piles for seven men? No, as the Triplets still refuse to accept any extra gold for their service. It still feels wrong to exclude them but he allots, as agreed, double shares to Banaal, Fortu and Liga Bur and keeps a single share for himself. Then, he sorts out the magical equipment. 

The two daggers are deceptively powerful but not really the style of anyone here. They could make useful back-up weapons though.

The glass web-wand is tragically, unusable by anyone here. It’s a bit like the ‘Burning-hands’ wand they got from Sir Briefadel’s fake Wizard squire; Egrow. Only usable by Wizards or those especially skilled with magical devices.

The poison vials are also dangerous to use, unless skilled with their storage and application. 

The twenty-four flaming crossbow bolts though, are usable by Fortu, Banaal AND the Triplets… Could this be another way of ‘sneaking’ them a little more help?

Despite still not using his, potentially cursed, magic ‘Vampire’ sword, Rifkin’s finger trails along Danté’s black, oily Leather armour. It’d helped him slip through Liga Bur’s entanglement spell but it was worthless to his teammates…

(After a few conversations.)

Current gold totals

Banaal:
Gold: 1606gp
10 gems (worth 100gp each)
4 gems (worth 50gp each)

Six +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

Fortu:
Gold: 1934gp
6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Liga Bur:
Gold: 411gp 

Rifkin:
Gold: 1550gp
7 gems (worth 25gp each)
+1 Leather armour (improved Slickness)

Ringo:

Six +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

Locket:

Six +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

Chape:

Five +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

+1 Heavy metal shield.

In addition:

Two +3 medium sized magic Daggers

Five vials of (handily labeled) Blue Whinnis poison

Wand of Webs

Fourteen Masterwork daggers

Danté’s Poisonous Legacy

After using up every healing spell he had on his Halfling and Human friends, Rifkin watches Banaal drag back the lead assassin’s corpse. Up close, the man looks near to seventy, despite his recent movements seeming to be that of a much younger man. His black, leather armour is weirdly oily to the touch and obviously magic of some sort… Probably the reason why Liga Bur’s entangling spell was so ineffectual. Likewise his dagger; the twin of the one Fortu had already retrieved by the waterfront. This one’s a lot cooler though; temperature wise. There’s also, several vials and a translucent glass-like wand. Both of which, because of what he’d seen, the Bard can guess at.

Human sized Leather armour +1 (slick improved)

Two +3 medium sized magic Daggers

Five vials of Blue Whinnis poison

Wand of Webs

160gp

Plus:

Twenty-six +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

Fourteen Masterwork daggers and 140gp combined taken from the Assassin corpses.

Hackers and Stabbers

Almost immediately after leaving through Cottis’ huge eastern gate, Ringo spurs on his horse to close the gap and pulls four heavy money purses from his saddle bags.

“I didn’t get a chance to give you this before we left the capital, but I sold the eleven bandit horses as you asked and here’re your profits.”

Banaal, atop his faithful mule; Murmul, notices that Ringo  is now riding Maurice. The horse that Fortu had previously been riding before being given his huge current one; Night Fever. Banaal had also noticed Liga Bur’s suspicious look but dismissed the similarity between this horse and the description he’d been given of Hetzabah’s flaming hooved Nightmare as mere coincidence.

The other two of the triplet brothers had been given fresh riding horses too but Banaal hadn’t heard their names spoken aloud yet.

Three of the money bags contain 145gp each and these are handed out to Fortu, Banaal and Liga Bur.

A smaller one, containing 72gp is for Rifkin.

Rifkin smiles and thanks Ringo, but in response, pulls out three, almost identical, magical longswords from his own saddlebags and offers them to the three brothers. The only noticeable difference between the swords are the three different coloured leather grip wrappings.

“When I was selling the two tiny magical daggers we took from that Halfling psycho; Marvin, I was offered a much better deal on a trade rather than just straight gold.”

Rifkin looks to Fortu, Liga Bur and Banaal.

“I hope that’s alright with you?”

Locket, Chape and Ringo all initially hesitate but Rifkin does his best to reassure them.

“You’re not allowed to take payment or a fair cut of the reward for Marvin and his bandits. You’ve even just handed over all the gold you got for selling those horses! Surely though, you can’t refuse a small gift? A gift that makes your jobs of protecting us and completing your mission easier.”

The three brothers, then tentatively reach out in turn to take one of Rifkin’s proffered swords and their matching coloured scabbards. Each one is skillfully stitched with the initial of each brother; R, C and L. Rust red for Ringo, cerulean blue for Chape and a lemon yellow for Locket.

“Thanks” they say in turn.

Turning back to Fortu, Banaal and Liga Bur, Rifkin shrugs.

“Turns out that three standard sized, ‘minor’ magical, standard steel swords, cost a great deal less than those two tiny, ‘slightly more’ magical daggers though…”

And Rifkin takes out three more bags of gold and hands them out.

“Here’s another 400gp for Banaal and Fortu.”

Then, with a nervous shrug, he passes over a smaller pouch containing just 50gp to Liga Bur with a slightly worried expression.

“I took what you owed me from Nonogonagal’s magic emporium out of your share. Again, I hope that’s alright?”

Current gold totals 

Banaal:
Gold: 1520gp
10 gems (worth 100gp each)
4 gems (worth 50gp each)

Fortu:
Gold: 1851gp
6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Liga Bur:
Gold: 325gp (All debts cleared)

Rifkin:
Gold: 1508gp
7 gems (worth 25gp each)

In addition:

Locket: +1 magical Longsword with Lemon yellow hilt and scabbard.

Chape: +1 magical Longsword with Cerulean blue hilt and scabbard.

Ringo: +1 magical Longsword with Rust red hilt and scabbard.

Gift wrap

Returning to Cottis, not just once but twice in the last few months, has been a bitter-sweet experience. Banaal had spent over ten years of his formative years here and had strong memories of Lord Urdurel and Lady Dulcetta, although from a child’s perspective.

His memories of Lamenta though were much stronger. From when she was a baby until, though about six years younger, she’d stood taller than him. They’d been inseparable best friends throughout the decade he’d spent in the Human lands. She was bright, warm and full of life and he had loved and protected her as if she’d been his little sister. Even now, he still can’t quite believe she’s dead. Not just dead but fifty-years interred in the dark, cold earth.

Lord Urdurel, though much older now, had welcomed him back with open arms and immediately shared his knowledge of the vile Hetzabah’s escape and the strange band of adventurers pursuing her. He’d then asked him to seek out these adventurers and bring them back to him.

A task he was more than happy to accept.

Now though, after successfully completing that mission, he stands alone in his luxurious and secure room in the castle and admires his reflection in the full-length mirror.

As a reward, Lord Urdurel had given him a cloak of sorts. A long cape-like wrap, so delicate it’s barely there at all. A wrap so fine, it looks more like a gossamer spider’s web draped over his broad shoulders.

This cobweb cloak though doesn’t tear to the touch. Instead it tears through the ethereal plane and allows its wearer to weave between them.

This gift of Lord Urdurel’s; a gift literally off of his own back, is probably worth more than all the gold that Banaal’s ever seen. 

Probably double that! Triple!! 

And despite that, considering the cloaks subtle power and who they’re going to eventually face, he thinks that its original cost, whatever it was, may yet prove to be a bargain!

Run Rabbit Run

Under the watchful eyes of his faithful hound; Mir Hundur and his magical staff; Dijonn, Liga Bur sceptically tugs on the two magical rabbit fur boots, gifted to him by Lord Urdurel. Despite his doubts though, he’s amazed to discover that the small boots readily stretch and extend to fit over his long Halfling feet. Halfling feet that now, due to their disproportionate length and sable coloured fur covering, actually resemble the long back feet of a giant Jack-rabbit!

He’d never felt the need for footwear before and had always, secretly, taken pride in the fact that, despite his smaller stature compared to his Orcish brethren, his feet had always been bigger and tougher than theirs. 

Looking down at them now though, he has to admit that they feel pretty good wrapped in the soft leather and fur. Better than good. He feels ‘springy’ for the first time in his life. 

Springier and stridier!

One Sword, Two Boards

Examining his new, heavy metal, heater style shield, Fortu traces the stylised octopus design with two of his fingertips. Although dark, it’s so well rendered, he can almost imagine the tentacles reaching out to envelop his opponents. It radiates a level of defensive magical energy that even he can sense and it’s an extremely generous gift from Lord Urdurel… 

Although, considering what he and his companions have agreed to do for him, it’s more of a bribe really.

Fortu compares it to his old magic shield. ‘Old magic shield’? How strange that he’s become so quickly accustomed to possessing these fantastical magical items. His ‘old magic shield’ had saved him from serious injury many times, deflecting sword thrusts that otherwise would have wounded him, but now, just by the heft of them, he can tell how superior the new one actually is.

Looking at the two large shields side by side, it’s a shame he can’t use them both simultaneously, but then he wouldn’t be able to use his impossibly sharp and indestructible Flamberge Bastard sword. Another magical item that he couldn’t even have imagined wielding when he was in the brutal gladiator pits of Tuatata.

‘Awesome’ he had named it but Lord Urdurel said that, when he owned it, he’d called it the ‘Sovereign sword’ and the ‘Kingmaker’. Fortu frowns as he recalls the old man’s next words.

‘That’s not what it’s really called though...’

Turning the heavy, but perfectly balanced, Adamantine blade in the flickering lamplight of his spacious private room, Fortu observes the way that the engraved letters on both sides of the base of the blade gleam sinisterly. He’s possessed this sword for almost two months, ever since prying it out of the gauntlet of the mechanical knight that stood guard outside the main entrance of Dulcetta’s lost tower.

In all that time though, despite travelling through towns and villages, he still hasn’t managed to have the words translated.

In truth though, he hadn’t tried that hard and even now, when Lord Urdurel had dangled the truth in front of him, he’d balked. Why was he so reluctant to know what his sword’s inscription actually says? Perhaps, after everything he’s learned over the last few months, it’s because he suspects what language the inscription is actually written in?

Lord Urdurel’s Bounty

Lord Urdurel (High King in all but title) was not only expecting you but had planned for it. He had sent out, well in advance of your arrival, for specific items as a potential reward or bribes for Liga Bur and Rifkin. He’d even had the time to commission a powerful new shield for Fortu AND had it styled and painted to match his octopus themed armour!

Banaal’s gift though was more personal. As the very young son of the Dwarven priest couple, sent to oversee the construction of Cottis over sixty years ago. Childhood friend to his baby daughter and her brave childhood protector. When Banaal learned of her murder, fifty years too late, he still shared in Lord Urdurel’s ongoing grief.

Current character wealth (including recently received ‘wanted’ rewards, gifted personal magical items and equipment and minus the gold paid to the leader of the Rogues guild for information about the Assassin, probably in the employ of the Witch Megarna; Finnegan).

Banaal: 

Gold: 975gp

10 gems (worth 100gp each) 

4 gems (worth 50gp each)

Cloak of Etherealness

Fortu: 

Gold: 1306gp

6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Shield Large/Heavy +3

Heavy Warhorse: Night Fever!

Liga Bur: 

Gold: 130gp (Still owes Rifkin 350gp)

Rabbit skin boots of Striding and Springing 

Rifkin: 

Gold: 691gp

7 gems (worth 25gp each)

Brooch of Shielding

In addition you are all now being paid a whopping 10gp a day while in Lord Urdurel’s employ.

Liga Bur can elect to repay some of his debt to Rifkin if he should choose to do so.

Gold, Gems and Magic Stuff

Lots of gold was made by selling the useless (for you) but valuable loot that Rifkin has been lugging around and then immediately spent by buying magic potions, scrolls and one magic ring last session. While trying to keep track of it, I may have let something slip. Please have a look and let me know if I’m at all mistaken.

Current character wealth (including recently purchased personal magical items and equipment).

Banaal: 

Gold: 863gp

10 gems (worth 100gp each) 

4 gems (worth 50gp each)

Potion of Jump x3

Potion of Fly

Scroll of Water Breathing

Scroll of Wind Wall

Fortu: 

Gold: 1194gp  

6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Potion of Fly

Potion of Cure Light Wounds x5

Potion of Protection from Evil

Liga Bur: 

Gold: 18gp (Owes Rifkin 350gp)

Ring of Protection +1

Potion of Cure Light Wounds x2

Rifkin: 

Gold: 637gp  

7 gems (worth 25gp each)

Filthy Rich & Banaal-Flap

Tracking arrows is hard enough, without having to worry about every single coin, so here’s the current individual gold and gem status, including new and old (for the last time) henchmen:

Fortu: Gold: 1,005gp + 6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Liga Bur: Gold: 930gp + 6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Rifkin: Gold: 372gp + 7 gems (worth 25gp each)

Henshaw: Gold: 9gp

Barbella: Gold: 473gp + 28 gems (worth 25gp each)

Doberman: Gold: 370gp + 2 gems (worth 25gp each)

Locket: Gold: 10gp

Chape: Gold: 10gp

Ringo: Gold: 10gp (+ 40gp of the Lord’s Guard’s money)

Cookie: Gold: 20gp

Banaal: -10gp bribe/damages paid to the innkeeper of the ‘Way-Out Inn’.

I mention this now, as the Party is currently in a fair sized village and heading towards a large town and then a city and, therefore has the rare (in my campaigns) opportunity to buy some stuff, including (possibly) magical potions etc!

Banaal was the only Party member to exploit this so far, when he replaced some of his used up expendables in Scarborough.

In answer to your unasked questions, yes Henshaw was honest and paid back his debts to Rifkin and Fortu in full. Doberman managed not to lose the majority of his money up his nose or in his ears and yes; Barbella was indeed a dirty thief, helping himself to extra gems and coins, whenever he got the chance.

I’ve actually got no idea what ‘starting money’ the Dwarven priest; Banaal currently has left over from his initial shop, recent shop and 10gp bar-room bribe. Fancy letting me know Assif and I’ll try to keep track of it for you?

Also, 50 gp weighs 1lb for encumbrance (20lbs+ worth of gold for Richie-rich Fortu) but fortunately, you currently have two horses, a mule, a riding dog and a two cart-horse-powered (Burt & Ernie) wagon.

Forest Rewards

Two minor +1 magic swords (No glow)?

Amongst all the dead mercenaries, in the end, that’s all they had of value. After encountering so many Cold-iron weapons, it’s a little surprising/disappointing that even one of these (enchantment aside) is made of mundane steel.

Not much of a reward for such an intense battle. 

Henshaw took O’Malley’s magical +1 Cold-iron Longsword with a grateful grin to add to his earlier gift of a standard healing potion and a ‘Barkskin’ one from the Satyr; Magritte’s potion bandolier.

Barbella took the potion of ‘Cat’s grace’, a ‘Delay poison’ and a standard healing potion, as well as holding onto a standard healing potion and a potion of ‘Bear’s endurance’ for Doberman.

Liga Bur took both the potions of ‘Cure Medium Wounds’ and one ‘Delay poison’.

The new Dwarf associate, Banaal proved his divine value and, as a reward, took a potion of ‘Barkskin’.

Fortu took the ‘Cure Serious Wounds’ and the ‘Bull’s Strength’ potions.

Rifkin accepted one of the standard healing potions for himself and stored the two potions of ‘Lesser Restoration’ for communal use. He also held onto Spider Murphy’s magical +1 (apparently ordinary) steel Shortsword.

Liga Bur also ended up holding O’Malley’s strongbox key, with its promised contents of 120gp.

Mule or Fuel?

The strange group of fleshy creatures had long departed with a few of its root-retrieved trinkets, but the Lightning tree still finds itself mulling over their last baffling encounter.

The heavily armoured Human had been gone for considerably longer than the sentient tree had initially anticipated but Fortu had finally returned to keep his word.

The concept of time is relative though, especially to one as long lived as the Lightning tree. One week, one month, one year; what does it matter, as long as the promise was eventually fulfilled?

Fortu’s timing had been extremely fortuitous though. Arriving with a considerable amount of ‘gift meat’ just when it’d been arguing with a Dwarf about the very definition of food and that ‘meat wasn’t murder’ unless the animal could speak.

The Dwarf; Banaal had vehemently disagreed, claiming that his mule wasn’t food but actually his trusted steed and companion. This made little sense though as the Halfling, Liga Bur had previously gone to great lengths to explain the difference during their previous meeting. 

‘Intelligent meaty creatures are not food but, simple minded, grazing animals and scavengers were. If it can talk, it’s not food but instead a potential friend or ally.’

This would make the braying creature, that it had scooped up in its branches, definitely fall into the category of ‘morally edible’, so why did the Dwarf object so fiercely?

Perhaps because the Mule had been taught a few tricks and was being used to carry Banaal’s equipment?

Ultimately, it didn’t really matter though. Fortu had honoured his promise to return with meat and so consuming the mule had become unnecessary. The four deer carcasses, now interred deeply beneath it, would rot slowly and provide sustenance for months to come. 

Alone again, the Lightning tree begins to absorb the slowly releasing nutrients through its tendril-like roots and considers the conundrum.

Perhaps it’s simply that unintelligent creatures, like the Dwarf’s mule; Murmul or the Halfling’s hound; Mir Hundur, are not to be considered to be merely food, if they’d been given an actual name?

Risk free Goodies

Considering you got nothing from the six Displacer beast pack, it only seems fair that I was generous in other areas.

From Rifkin’s satchel:

Mir Hundur got a collar (medallion) of Natural attack +3

Liga Bur got a scroll of Heat metal  

From the Lightning tree:

Murmul goat a full set of Horseshoes of speed.

Fortu got a pair of Gauntlets of Ogre power +2

From Magritte:

Potions of 

4 x Cure Light Wounds 1d8+1 

2 x Cure Medium Wounds 2d8+3

1 x Cure Serious Wounds 3d8+5

2 x Delay Poison

2 x Barkskin +2AC (10 minutes)

1 x Bear’s Endurance +4 con (1 minute)

1 x Bull’s Strength +4 str (1 minute)

1 x Cat’s Grace +4 Dex (1 minute)

2 x Lesser Restoration 

(Although we’ve suddenly got a situation where two of the three characters can cast these spells themselves, we can argue who takes what potion next session, but up until then, Rifkin puts them in his satchel for safe keeping.

Update your character sheets and Scott, take this opportunity to un-disable poor Liga Bur and fix Dijonn.

Labyrinth of Temptation

With his mighty sword illuminated by Rifkin’s spell, the heavily armoured Fortu leads the way through the dark and twisting labyrinth…

Summoning Satyrs

After disconcertingly discovering the first ugly-horse-camel creature brutally slaughtered and half devoured, Liga Bur leaves the others behind to track down the remaining seven. They'll need them if they're going to make it back to Valdez or the oasis. In the meantime, the rest of the Party unpack the stowed equipment and set up the large tent, before simply waiting in its shade for the Tundra hardened Halfling to return with their rides. Despite travelling with the adventurers for over a month now, Henshaw is still amazed by Liga Bur’s formidable survival skills and he knows, without question, that they’d all be dead by now, from either thirst or heat exposure, without him.

Henshaw’s faith in the little tracker is soon proved justified, when Liga Bur comes riding back atop his loyal hound; Mir Hundur, leading all seven of the surviving camels. The Party though, is still not ready to leave. Although struggling to keep his ire-filled voice below a shout, the Elven Arowe is still the first to consider how they can help Rifkin and Doberman.

“Could our Bard’s charm bracelet help here? Perhaps the tiny Pixie has some magic that could cure Rifkin's deafness and Doberman's disease?”

Rifkin smiles crookedly in hopeful understanding and, because of that very deafness, answers a little too loudly.

“PERHAPS NOT THE SHINY PIXIE. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE POTION-BANDOLIER WEARING SATYR; MAGRITTE?”

Everyone nods in agreement and Rifkin, with dramatic but unnecessary flair, twists off the satyr shaped token from Estrid's bracelet and feels it hum and warm up in his soft hand. After less than a minute, the half goat, half man; Magritte appears, Barely dressed beyond his rapier, longbow, quiver and twin potion-caddy bandoliers.

Initially Crouched with his sword in hand, the bearded Magritte quickly assesses the situation, straightens up and sheaths his weapon.

"How may I be of service?"

After a speedy explanation, the friendly Satyr sets to work examining all three of the afflicted. He treats Rifkin first with a carefully selected vial and, much to the Bard's joy, it proves successful. Doberman takes a moment longer but he too is cured of the Hag's disease. When he comes to Arowe though, Magritte just shakes his goat-horned head.

"I'm sorry my Elven friend. Your ongoing affliction is magical in nature, not physical, but worry not; even an ‘uncivilised’ Fey creature, such as myself has heard of the elite Elven Oath-bows. Your hyper-focused rage will not last forever. You'll have to endure this rage for a week, just seven days and then you'll be free of it. Until, that is, you call upon it again."

Afterwards, Fortu and the others share with Margritte what has happened since they last saw each-other and what they plan to do now. The handsome and tanned Satyr listens attentively and, at the completion of the tale, agrees that returning home seems to be the only sane course of action.

"I'll inform the goddess of the pool of your estimated arrival in about eight days and I'll be sure to have the Nixies take turns watching out for you at the bottom of the hundred feet underwater shaft. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help, but please accept my remaining potions. You may have need of them before we meet again."

With that, Magritte empties his bandoliers, carefully explaining what each potion does as he passes them over. After that, the charming Satyr chats with the adventurers until his hour is up.

"Safe journey my friends. I hope to see you all again soon."

Treasure:

Potions:

1) Potion of Cure Light Wounds x 2

2) Potion of Cure Moderate Wounds x 2

3) Potion of Cure Serious Wounds x 2

4) Potion of Delay Poison x 1

5) Potion of Magic Fang +1 x 1

6) Potion of Bark-skin +2 AC x 1

7) Potion of Bear's Endurance +4 Con x 1

8) Potion of Cat's Grace +4 Dex x 1

9) Potion of Bull's Strength +4 Str x 1

10) Potion of Lesser Restoration x 2

(Assif, I think I got this right but if not, (to avoid any unnecessary confusion) scrunch up your list and throw it in the bin.)

Tales from the Ledge: A Lover, not a Fighter.

At the very back of the observation ‘mouth’ near the top of Dulcetta’s ‘singing’ tower, Rifkin continues to rub his sorcererly deafened, slightly pointed ears and wonders, ‘How long will this damnable deafness last?!’. To distract himself from his growing concern, he inspects the spread-out contents of his emptied haversack. Specifically, he examines the two newly acquired magical items.

He hadn’t managed to do much beyond ‘Detecting magic’ on these objects but he can feel their hidden enchantments. The strangely cut emerald, that had somehow powered Hetzabah’s spinning prison cage and the old leather dog-collar that Henshaw had pulled off the broken metal automaton.

Staring deeply into the cuboid, walnut sized emerald, Rifkin finds himself reminded of two other gems; The brittler, sandy-yellow ‘diamond’ from the Wizard Moody’s turban and the Hag’s heart shaped, heart sized ruby, that Arowe and Liga Bur had discussed in length. It had been worn by the Hag who’d tormented his Halfling friend during his dreams. Now though, the semi-Elven Bard had seen it himself. The beautiful young woman had been wearing it while battling Doberman and Fortu at the edge of the ledge. Rifkin hadn’t gotten close, and been distracted by her large, bouncing and exposed breasts either side of it, but he could have sworn he saw something trapped within the ruby. Something white and round, preserved forever, like a fly in amber.

Picking up the thick, leather collar, it seems oddly old and worn but tough. It’d obviously been designed for a very large dog and the round, bronze tag reads ‘Belvedere’. Could Liga Bur’s companion hound; Mir Hundur have a use for this? Rubbing his thumb across the tag though, causes the engraved name to shimmer for a fraction of a second. What could its power be?

Putting that unsolvable concern out of his mind for the moment, Rifkin turns his attention to the other enchanted but unclaimed items that he’d been carrying around over hundreds of miles under the multiple hot suns of Calcienta.

Perhaps Henshaw had been right? Surely it’s best to divvy up the magic items unwanted by Arowe, Fortu and Liga Bur?

Picking up Egrow’s magical dagger, he marvels at the blemish-free gleam of its Cold-iron blade, despite the gloom within the cave-like mouth and the hazy grey sky.

The semi-Elven Bard hums uncharacteristically tunelessly to himself, as he considers his current complete lack of weaponry. His mind also drifts back to the time when Fortu chastised him for his apparent cowardice. Accidentally speaking aloud, Rifkin murmurs…

“Could I actually bring myself to use this, if desperate need arose?”

Rifkin knows he’s battling against his own natural instincts though and, after a moment’s hesitation, re-wraps the dagger and moves to place it carefully back into his bag. Before he’s able to however, he feels an involuntary shudder run through him, as a shadow falls across his back.

It’s Barbella’s voice that breaks the silence for everyone other than Rifkin.

“What exactly is all that stuff you got there?”.

Fool's Gold / Fool's Potions / Fool’s Pile of Magical Loot

After avoiding the pitfalls and cleaving a safe path through the spear traps, the heavily armoured Fortu assumes the lead. Clanking up the echoey stone stairwell, he holds his magically illuminated bastard-sword high in front, lantern-like, to guide their way. 

Gazing around at the top of the steps, the ex-gladiator wonders at the obvious but unnecessary thickness of the stone walls either side. They form a roughly hewn, narrow corridor, allowing only a single-file marching order, but his teammates stay close behind. The sensitive-nosed Mir Hundur and ever-alert Liga Bur, with the fiery Dijonn back in his Halfling-hand, guard the rear.

Advancing crab-like along the left hand wall to maximise his shield defence, Fortu turns a corner to see an invitingly soft light pour from one side of the T-junction ahead… And he feels a subtle pull in the back of his mind. Inching forward, the arena Fighter peers around the edge to spot, about twenty-feet back from the junction, a huge pile of gold coins. Thousands! Hundreds of thousands! More than he can even guess at!

Fortu feels that tug again, but what use does he have for gold? Warning everyone behind, he turns left and keeps moving. The others shuffle pass until Barbella’s face is lit by the sparkling pile of illuminated gold. He pauses, licking his lips for a moment, before being rudely shoved forward by Henshaw.

"Don't be fooled. It's just an illusion to trick the weak minded."

Henshaw stops abruptly as he finishes his sentence and, suddenly worried, glances back over his shoulder.

“Doberman! Put your hand on Rifkin’s shoulder and keep your eyes squeezed tight shut 'til me or the Bard tells you otherwise!”

The next junction Fortu comes to, offers a stack of brightly coloured potion bottles. Blue, red, green; there must be hundreds of them and again, the Warrior feels a stronger tug of desire, but potions are just temporary solutions and he pushes on. This time it’s Henshaw who buckles and Barbella who roughly yanks his straw-thatched friend out of trouble.

"Who’s the weak minded fool now?”

The last junction is just before the stone steps up to the next level and the enchantment is strongest here. Strewn about fifteen-feet from the corridor entrance are glowing swords, shields, rings, wands and armour. All of them are patently magical and just waiting to be plucked from the ground! 

Fortu can’t help but stop this time and stare. It takes all the will he can muster not to hustle down that corridor and scoop the items up, but some part of him, the more rational side holds sway. He can almost hear a powerful but strangely gentle voice warning him not to give in to his base desires. Instead, using his body as a literal wall to block sight and entrance, he ushers Arowe and then the others up the stone steps to his right. It's only when Liga Bur rides past him with a questioning look, does Fortu manage to fully drag himself away from temptation and up the steps after his teammates.

The Sword in the (Key) Stone

Suspecting its hidden power and unable to resist his desire to possess it, Fortu manages to wrestle the impressive, 'hand-and-a-half' sword from the now wrecked horse/knight's locked gauntlet.

Holding it aloft, he marvels at his luck. A Bastard sword; his favourite weapon, with a wavy blade and razor-sharp edges. It's awesome... Perfect! It's as if the metal had never been tried or tested against another sword or armour. Not one ding, blemish or sign of corrosion on its oddly bluish length. The only marks on the blade are the strange, letter-like characters standing slightly proud and repeated on each side. Whatever the writing says though, it's in a language indecipherable to him. Still, just grasping it's leather-wrapped hilt within his palm makes him feel unbeatable. Unstoppable. No-one back in the arena would be able to stand against him and live to tell the tale... No-one outside of it either.

Rifkin's call, rouses Fortu from his joyful inner monologue. Rising and hustling back to join the Bard by the large, bronze slot in the stonework, it becomes clear that this is the mechanism to open the huge, iron doors. Fortu isn't that surprised to see that the slot is precisely the size, both in height and width, for the very sword in his hand.

Its five-foot blade slides smoothly in, with a series of clicks as the curves and raised letters of the sword push aside the dozens of internal lock chamber pins. Lastly, with a final drive home and a clockwise twist, the double doors beside him give a gasp and creak slowly inward to reveal the tower’s dark and murky interior...

Treasure from a Pre-Trod Path

While sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor of the marquee, Rifkin examines the treasure they’d just combed through the chitinous gore and sand to find. It seems that these dimly intelligent, insectoid, pounce-predators were using the bones and loot as bait in their traps but without any true understanding of its actual worth.

The erudite Arowe had translated the Gnomish Knight; Grimcrack’s diary and it was obvious that they were ostensibly on the same mission but, going by the dates... nearly a century apart!

Something was wrong here. If this was the mythical tower that the middle-aged Sir Briefadel was searching for and, if you believe what the Wizard Moody had claimed, it was established here about a hundred years ago. Fifty-years before the treacherous nobleman was even born!

Placing the remnants of the tattered diary to one side, Rifkin quickly separates the obvious magical items from the more mundane ones and trusts the surprisingly numerate Henshaw to fairly divvy up the gold and gems.

Magic

Small Lance +3 (Keen) (Liga Bur)

Small Longsword +1

Small Heavy Shield +1

Small Full Plate +1

Lenses of Doom (Fortu)

Ring of Jumping +5 (Arowe)

Harp of Charming (Rifkin)

Elixir of Truth

Elixir of Fire Breath

Potion of Good Hope

Potion of Cure Serious Wounds

Potion of Remove Blindness

Scroll of Holy Sword (unusable by anyone)

Scroll of Cure Serious Wounds (Liga Bur)

Scroll of Remove Curse (Rifkin)

Scroll of Heat Metal (unusable by anyone)

Small damp leather purse containing 5 x Moist Marbles

Flask of Acid x 2 (one used)

Diary of Grimcrack Thin-Needle (Arowe)

Maps of Calcienta / Fissa / The Givrad Void

Chain shirt barding for Medium Quadruped +1 (Mir Hundur)

Liga Bur may also want to claim the Small +1 Heavy Shield as he can use the Magic Lance one-handed while riding Mir Hundur. No-one else could use the small long-sword or small full-plate either.

Anyone want to claim the potions or shall Rifkin just stick them in his knapsack?

Gold and Gems

Arowe: + 42gp / 6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Fortu: + 42gp / 6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Liga Bur: + 42gp / 6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Rifkin: + 21gp / 3 gems (worth 25gp each)

Henshaw: + 14gp / 2 gems (worth 25gp each)

Barbella: + 14gp / 2 gems (worth 25gp each)

Doberman: + 14gp / 2 gems (worth 25gp each)


Extras

The half-dozen Ankheg eggs found by Barbella had a total value of 600gp (if sold in Valdez) but (a now slightly green) Doberman ate all of them.

Henshaw, as before with Fortu, hands his entire share to Rifkin. Plus the 5gp he still had remaining.

“I’m still down a bit but I never forget a debt.”

The Demi-elf smiles but can’t help hearing the unintended threat behind the promise.

Finally, Barbella sidles over to Fortu, borrowed magical, glowing silver sickle in hand...

"Henshaw said I should return this to ya, but I woz finking, since the light it sheds is useful to me and no-one else ain't using it, could it be my share of the loot? It only seems fair, since the Halfling got that swirly magic lance, the Elf took the magic ring, the Half-Elf got the harp and you got them magic lenses. Henshaw, Doberman and me didn’t get nothing!"

The gangly Henshaw and Extremely stout Doberman wander over to support their double-negative using friend and Henshaw adds his voice too.

“That’s true. We should get our share. The Gnome-sized stuff and the scrolls are no use to us but if Barbella's getting that silver sickle, can I have the other magic dagger that's going begging?”

Henshaw requests the +1 Cold-iron Dagger.

Doberman doesn’t seem to care either way though.


Current individual gold and gem status:

Fortu: Gold: 1,005gp + 6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Arowe: Gold: 1,205gp + 6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Liga Bur: Gold: 930gp + 6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Rifkin: Gold: 341gp + 7 gems (worth 25gp each)

Henshaw: Gold: 0gp (Still owes Rifkin 31gp)

Barbella: Gold: 373gp + 2 gems (worth 25gp each)

Doberman: Gold: 370gp + 2 gems (worth 25gp each)

Going Underground!

Just a short reminder (after our loooong recess) of the Party's current situation.

With the timely assistance of Rifkin, the Party managed to evade the (certain death by Tyrannosaurus Rex) third and final bout in the gladiatorial arena of Valdez and (with seven camels, tents and supplies) escape into the desert.

The Party had also (conveniently) encountered the blue-clad Moody. The self-same Wizard who had previously captured them and bribed the Odds-master to ensure Arowe's death. He is now a bound and gagged prisoner, without hawk familiar, hope or his spell book.

After several night's successful navigation though, Liga Bur was psychically attacked by a withered, hunchbacked old woman during his dreams. His fevered rants though were proven real  by the sudden reawakening of the magical mummified hand, still carried deep within Rifkin's knapsack. Coming back to ‘life’, it literally crawled out and pointed out the vile, ethereal creature before conferring 'sight-beyond-sight' to Arowe. 

Weakened and struggling to stay awake, Liga Bur still managed to lead the Party toward the mythical tower. On day six the Party came across an unlikely but tall rocky crag, offering fresh water, shade and potentially edible vegetation. In the darkest of the multiple shadows cast by the three suns in the sky, three bodies lay sprawled in the sand. They looked decades old; skeletal, but some items, glinting in the light, seemed to have survived.

Guessing them to be either valuable or magical, Barbella licked his parched lips and offered to 'check ‘em awt'. 

Unfortunately, after sifting through some of the items, the swarthy soldier looked momentarily confused but before he could convey his findings, the sand erupted beneath him! A huge insectoid creature burst from below the corpse and snatched the screaming Barbella up in its mandibles. With clever forethought by the pragmatic Fortu though, Barbella had been tethered by rope to the stout Doberman.

Something's wrong though. Barbella's thrashing and screaming like he's burning and the should-be-sturdy rope looks like it's already shredding. The rest of the party stare in horror from about thirty feet back.

Except the ever-ready archer elf; Arowe, who releases a readied feathered shaft, despite the exploding sand and the flailing Barbella, direct into the insectoid creatures face from thirty feet away…

INITIATIVE!

The Diamond, the Hand and the Bow

While idling away a few triple sun-burning hours under the protection of the large tent, Rifkin puts down Moody's unfathomable diamond and re-examines the recently reactivated magical mummified hand. During his research, he discovers that it doesn't just allow a third magical ring to be worn and enable its wearer to see ethereal and invisible creatures but it can also generate light as bright as day for about an hour. Sadly, the hands ability to grant the power to see magically hidden creatures is also limited in time to about an hour in a day before the hand sags and tires. Too short a period of time to really protect Liga Bur and frustratingly, it also won't work when worn around a neck shared with any other magical necklace or medallion.

Distractedly scratching behind his shoulder with the long fingernails of the withered hand for a moment, Rifkin recalls Whackheem's words to Arowe from back at the second oasis.

"I'm so sorry my friend, I've nothing to surpass or even match that splendid Elven bow of yours."

Surprising, considering what he did have to offer, and then he said something even odder.

"Have you tried reading the inscription?"

Of course Arowe had noticed and read the finely carved words as soon as they'd found it. Most magical items and weapons had inscriptions of one sort or another carved or etched into them.  But still, the merchant of magic had been very specific. Rifkin's lips move silently as he delicately traces the short but stylishly carved Elven script along the side of Arowe's magical blackthorn bow.

‘Death to my Enemy’.

The Hand of Glory is a neck worn magical item. It enables the wearer to use a third magical ring at the expense of their neck position slot. It also grants the wearer the ability to cast 'See Invisibility' and 'Daylight' for one hour per day. This time is a continuous block but both spells can be cast separately or simultaneously.