Thursday, March 15, 2018

Beneath the Wood of Sharp Teeth ...

They departed from Kelton after another round of mead, which the Moon Elf, Dorian, happily supplied. Korrick and Malark the Barbarian drank deeply in anticipation of the journey that they knew would have its chances for glorious and righteous combat. Overhearing the festivities, the newly arrive paladin, Manjores, asked to join the quest to strike at the Lizard Cult. It was agreed by all that the paladin would join their ranks, if nothing else but for the luck of the gods to be on their side.

The foggy morning relieved rolling grasslands to the west of Kelton and fewer and fewer farms as they marched onward into the Borderlands. Dorian took first watch that evening as they camped on the plains. Come the morn, they were roused from their bedrolls by the Elf and fed a breakfast of granola and nuts, no cooking was to be done on this journey, as not to arouse the appetites of predators.

The Wood of Sharp Teeth greeted them like a spectre in the night - it's dense grouping of trees creating a twilight in the midday; the sounds of birds and squirrels absent in its gloom. Onward through t6he brambles and thickets they strode, guided by the keen eyes and light feet of the Elf, Dorian.  He lead them straight into a soupy marsh in the centre of the woods and bade the party continue on in the stinking bog, that their destination would not be much further.

The further they travelled into the swamp, the smellier it got, until it was nearly unbearable. There was a great splash and the source of the stench was upon them. Teeth and claw gnashed against axe blades and elvish swords, as the Troglodyte scouts attempted to capture the party. As quickly as it began, it was over and black tar-like trog blood rested upon the murky waters.

Dorian lead the to an artificial island mound created by a crude dike in the dismal wetland. In the centre of the mound was an opening that lead into the moist earth. They descended into the mound along wet, slippery stairs, into the foetid hole of darkness. Though the elves scarcely needed light to see in the bowels of the swamp, not so was it for the men. As they stepped into the gloom, Manjores lit a torch to revile the mound's secrets to all.

No sooner than they had come to rest at the stairway's end, they were assailed by spear wielding men, no doubt cultist on guard in this damp underground. The spearmen were quickly dispatched and Dorian quickened the pace into the depths of this place. In their haste, Malack stepped into a concealed pool of Green Slime just beneath the grime of the wet floor of this place, which claimed his boots, but not his feet.  The pool of slime was circumvented by placing a wooden door, ripped from it's spongy hinges by Korrick the Goliath, and placed over the dungeon hazard.

Backtracking through the complex a bit, the party discovered sleeping cultist, who were rudely awakened by blades in the dark. None were sparred.

Deeper into the lair of the Lizard Cult, they discovered  an over-washed section of hallways with waist high waters blocking their path. Undeterred by this obstacle, they waded into the waters, only to be set upon by hungry crocodiles. The great lizards nearly drowned the Goliath in the shallow waters and cause Malark to shed more than a little blood, but with great determination, the party survived to fight another day ...

Saturday, March 10, 2018

The Plot Thickens ...

Mithelvarn's Labyrinth drew blood and claimed Vartan in a horrible display of gore as his head was pulped by Bugbear assailants that chased the Ivory Scimitars out of the Dungeon for now ...

... However, later, at the Company Major Tavern, Korrick and his new found drinking companion, a stout Barbarian, were confronted by Dorian, a strange sight in Kelton, as Moon Elves, or any kind of Elf for that matter, is a rarity. He joined their carousing and struck up conversation with them, trying to learn more about their from whereabouts and why they were in Kelton. The Elf's nosiness was quickly forgiven after he bought several rounds of Mead, and after he was satisfied with the aims of the Ivory Scimitars, he disclosed the true purpose of his acquaintance with the two fighting men.

It was heavily rumored that many townsfolks had succumbed to following strange reptile gods ... Yig, Set, and others lesser known were sited by the gregarious Moon Elf. Dorian had been summoned by the Mayor of Kelton, Zacarius Ormund, a former Adventuring comrade of the Elf's, several weeks prior to investigate the rumors. Dorian claimed they were indeed true and he and his Elvish companion, Llywillan, were seeking men such as the fearsome Ivory Scimitars to aid them in striking at the woodland heart of the Lizard Cult.


Meanwhile, Roldrick had received a message from a mysterious stranger to meet him at the gates of the abandoned temple of Chauntea. Roldrick assembled the remaining Ivory Scimitars and set out to meet with the odd request.

There, sitting at the gate of the abandoned temple sat an old man, leaning on a gnarled staff accompanied be a pet weasel that sat in a satchel draped over his frail shoulder.. He introduced himself as Ramne, and proceeded to tell Roldrick that he had heard of the newly reformed Ivory Scimitars, and trusted that they'd not been so long in Kelton to be corrupted. He went on about how the old Temple of Chauntea was not so abandoned as it seemed; that cultist of strange reptilian deities were cavorting in it's ruin and he needed the Scimitars' help in irradiating them for the good of the village.

Roldrick immediately trusted Ramne and agreed to take on the task at hand; but upon boldly striding up to the great ornate doors to the front of the temple - he found them barred from within. Ramne located a hidden entrance to the temple, probably used often by the secretive Lizard Cult, into which they entered the ruin.

In little time, they found themselves doing battle with fanatics of the Reptile Gods and guardian Skeletons; and soon after that, a multitude of vile Black Goblins assailed the Ivory Scimitars.

Though the exploration of the temple was in its infancy, the group spiked the doors shut in one of the meditation chambers and took a well deserved rest.

What more horrors remain in the temple would have to wait ... This scribe shall update you gentlefolk later.

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Beneath Roslof Keep

Kelton is a small village on the west-most borderlands of Iriabor's influence and here on the frontier of what passes for civilization, stands stoic Roslof Keep; the last bastion of defence against the lawless plains between Eltugard and Amn.

It is here that our heroes have been gathered by Lord Aldenmier,the last of his lineage to the 7th House of Aldenmier. These adventurers have been tasked to revive the ageing lord's old banner, the Company of the Ivory Scimitar and help restore his House's former glory by braving the mad mage Mithelvarn's Labyrinth beneath Roslof Keep.

And so begins our FLGS campaign at WARGEAR ...

So far, the ragtag group has only but scratched the surface of the fabled dungeon; but in so doing, they've discovered powerful undead nightmares and dangerous humanoids - Orcs and Ogres and their kin, roaming the uppermost level.

Roldrick - Brave, if not befuddled warrior from beyond the gates ...

Grissom - War Priest of Tempus; wanted for smuggling in far northern Luskan ...

Vartan - Adventurer thief and scout for the party ...

Korrik - Savage warrior of Goliath stock ...

Oki - Eastern refugee monk fleeing the Shadow Ku-On in his homeland ...

Darkedge - Mysterious Ninja from Kozokura, also a refugee of those lands ...

Morn - Sorcerer of powerful arts ...

Akira - Another of Mystra's favoured; an Eastern Warlock of considerable skill ...

And who else is on the horizon, drawing ever closer ... wishing to dare the Labyrinth? Only the passing of sand in the hourglass will tell not the soothsayers and astrologers ... rumour has it they worship strange reptile gods ...


Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Journey to the Forbidden City - 12th of Mirtul, Year of the Ageless One; 447 North Reckoning

Driving rains pounded the explorers beneath gray skies and stifling heat. Two of their numbers, Morok the Half-Ogre and Dragonbait the Paladin pulled and guided their raft upstream from the shoreline amidst tall grasses and other obstructing vegetation.  It seemed like days since they arrived in Chult, Like days since they enjoyed drinks in the Jungle Rat Bistro of Chologodi - getting into a bar fight with the locals and being cast out of the sweaty dive by the Halruuan Wizard who was tending the taps. That was yesterday; today, even the monsoon rains didn't keep stinging and biting insects at bay. They were beginning to understand why this stretch of jungle was known as The Green Hell.

The rest of the party rode on the murky river. Aboard the raft, the woman calling herself Alias leaned her back against the cheap railing. A Pirate called Jolly Rogers - The Gentleman of the Sea sat nearby smoking his pipe, while a mysterious mage known only as The Varktose muttered inconceivable words into his beard.

Slowly, quietly, and deliberately, a clawed scaly black hand made its way over the railing behind the red haired Alias. Just as quickly as it deliberately made its approach, it snatched the red haired lass from the boat, pulling her into the murky depths. the pirate grabbed both of his cutlasses and dived after them. In the cloudy, muddied waters he could make out as to what the attacker was ... some black scaled Gillman with burning coals for eyes. He attempted to assail the Gillman with his swords as Alias wriggled to escape. As soon as Alias freed herself, the Gillman swam with great speed away into the gloomy waters.

Mogumbo, our guide, soon brought us to the spot where we would have to go it on foot. The canopy of the jungle blocked a great deal of the rains, but what it did let through came in giant drops or continual streams. Bird calls echoed in the safety of the canopy as well. and there were other sounds, terrible sounds coming from all around us.

Our guide insisted we go around the higher elevations; it was the least dangerous path and so around the mountains we went. In a day's time we emerged from the rainforest before a grand ravine, in which were vine covered buildings, mold covered ziggurats, Ivy ridden pyramids, and crumbling towers reaching toward the constant rains. To the east we spied a great waterfall flowing from the mountain. We decided we could descend to the Forgotten City with some degree of cover there. As we secured the ropes for repelling, a giant ant the size of a Calashite-Bred Horse assailed us. Where there was one of these insects, there was likely to be more. The quickest of actions had to be taken. The creature was quickly and quietly dispatched with only a few minor injuries sustained by the party. Then, down we descended into the ravine.

The rain was so heavy as to obscure our vision to a steady range of 10-12 feet. This would obviously work against us, but it would also work against any hostile inhabitants of the ravine. The ground was softer here, and our guide told us to be sure of our steps less we become stuck or worse, prey to quicksand.

 As we continued west, a structure of sorts came into view. It was of bamboo construction and approximately 10 feet high. Our wily pirate crawled upon the Half-Ogre's shoulders and dove into the structure. He cautiously ascended the mound within the structure and found a Frogman sitting by a rather large gong. Jolly dispatched the Amphibian Beast-man then disabled the gong. He the signalled for the Half-Ogre to come into the walled off area, which he did by tearing apart the lashed together bamboo stalks. Unfortunately, this made quick a ruckuss, as the bamboo snapped and cracked under then Half-Ogre's great strength.

Frogmen shot out of a crude cave entrance on the western side of the mound like running water. There were no less than 20 hopping about looking for intruders; each one with a grimy looking spear looking for homes in our hearts ...

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Hot Elf Chicks - Pic 8

Scoundrels in the South Ward

Up from the foetid sewers of Waterdeep's South Ward, the man known as Relic lead a small team of men on a mission for the Ebonclad Thieve's Guild of Skullport. Of the team there was the cuthroat known as Greegen, a Kenku called Stabber, a pirate calling himself Black Vulma, a Ratling known as Snippers, a underworld Pugilist and enforcer renowned as Brick, and a mysterious monk known simply as Shlock.

They made their way to the tavern known as The Bloody Fist, where they met their contact, a devious gnome calling himself Fingers. Fingers had information on a ne’er-do-well thug who had stolen from the Guild. The group was to find the man and retrieve what was stolen.

The trail started with the man the thug assaulted in the first place ... a foppish citizen of Tethyr who frequented the burlesques of The Guilded Ring Festhall. Questioning the dandy reviled little, but he let slip that he also had agents in search of the thug with the stolen treasure.

The band of thieves decided to start questioning the underworld, starting with Lasses of the Evening ... it was shortly into this endeavour, a fellow Ebonclad contacted them with unsettling news. It turned out that Fingers was not what he seemed. He had enlistment by the Guild before but he'd been acting strange lately ... as if he were hiding something. The Guild was using the party of cutthroats to draw him out. He said further, that the gnome and his bodyguard frequented a certain nightclub in town where they'd load up on casks of Halfling wine and head off in a cart to who knows where among the shadows of the South Ward.

The Thieves set up a stakeout on the nightclub that almost went sour when a rival guildsmen and his croneys recognized Black Vulma. The knife fight was quick and barely noticed in the dark of an adjoining alley; and not long after that the gnome, his bodyguard, and the cart arrived on the scene. Coin was exchanged to the Chultan doorman, and they both entered the seedy nightclub.

The bodyguard was set to work loading the cart with casks of wine, which the gnome paid for upfront. Fingers then jovially sat back and swilled drinks as his manservant continued his labour; careless as a formerly caged bird as he caroused with any who'd listen.

The routine was broken when the Enforcer, Brick, challenged the bodyguard. Everything went south from there. Brick floored the large bodyguard in a one-two punch. The gnome became alarmed at the scuffle and ran to the Chultan doorman, who was a sizable gentleman in his own right. The Chultan ran for the cart, carrying the gnome under his arm. He was paid well for his loyalty, and he tucked the gnome in among the casks and began pulling the cart into the night, rickshaw style.

The ratling assailed the cart with bolts from his crossbow from an alley across the main street, while Stabber, the Kenku, dove from his rooftop position and landed gracefully upon the fleeing cart. The party made use of the Art to slow the Chultan with frosty bolts of arcane might until the thieves had caught up to the escapees. The gnome matched thier Art by casting illusions of himself and finally disappearing all together, laughing at their failure to catch him from the long shadows of the South Ward ...

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