After a two years of waiting, we’re back. We find our heroes where we left them, two years ago, deep in the fetid passages of the Oynbokigon.
Arcturas – Fighter
Felkin – Ranger
Lessep – NPC Cleric
Lilia – Rogue
Ned – Wizard
Nobo – Barbarian
Silverwind – Bard
Urien – Fighter/Cleric
Sadly, Arcturas was absent this evening but his presence was felt in spirit. We look forward to his actual presence soon.
After rolling out the large printed map, some discussion as to exactly which room we had left off in, and some plates of Urien’s stew, Silverwind’s rice, and Lilia’s bread, we commenced.
We opened with a bit of healing activity to clean up old injuries. Geier, Druid of the Floating Forest, gave up some salves and offered a pair of large flying-squirrel like creatures that can, in a pinch, be ‘offered’ in exchange for grievous wounds. Even with Geier’s help, however, there wasn’t enough healing for our heroes to be fully restored from past injuries.
Geier returned to the chamber of the puce wall, an apparent portal, and Ned peeked ahead into the darkness. Initiative!
Three demon guardians, Klurichir’s, opened up with spells while Nobo, Urien, and Arcturas charged in. Silverwind spurred the group with his bardic chant, Ned, Lilia, and Felkin rained death from afar. After ferocious battling and felling two of the great horrors, Nobo was picked up and mostly swallowed by one of the creatures pincer-mouths. Felkin brought the beast crashing down, falling on Nobo and half-smothering him.
Beyond the demons was a great pit of offal and ground body parts mixed with demon-shit and other excreta. Ned’s detect magic revealed a few items of special value – buried in the filth.
A set of magical banded mail (of luck?), a short sword of acidic attack (?), a ring of cold resistance, a ring of protection, a rod of maximize (lesser), a cloak of resistance (greater), druid’s vestments, a vest of free movement, a dark blue magical stone of awareness, and a magic wand.
The wand was particularly special. One was a wand built from a slender white branch, traced and trimmed with a white-silver metal and around a long blue crystal. It is hard to know what realm or world this trinket comes from but Silverwind is sure it contains some eternal enchantment and that it can cast cure serious wounds, twice per day.
Loot was shared, donned and equipped. Onward around the next corner.
A great chamber with pink fleshy walls oozing a bilious green liquid lay around the next corner. Across the hall, a tight membrane holding back some great vesicle of vile digestive liquid. Lilia explored the darkness ahead and suddenly, two 30′ tall demon spawn attacked!
Wielding 15′ swords of adamant, they bowled into our group, nearly running down Lilia as she scampered back to the party and safety. As the demons brought their swords to bear, Arcturas fell for a moment, but was kept from death by the quick actions of Ned and Silverwind. The two spawn were then cut down by our heroes – though not without inflicting more draining damage and bleeding the resources of our champions.
Around the next corner was a room of darkness. And within that darkness was a voice that spoke only to Lilia. The voice of Chechelon. She said to Lilia, perhaps, that the group is to find the eyes of The Shothragot and destroy them. Without its eyes, it is weakened, said the voice.
Through the first door were three tough priests, servants of some dark thing, The Shothragot, possibly? Two wore plate and cast spells – the third was a berserker of a sort – some sort of half man half beast. The beast man was the first to die – burned by ned, stabbed and slashed by Urien and Nobo, shot full of Felkin’s arrows – he fell.
Next fell the one they call ‘The Beautiful’ – one side of his face was charismatic – the other, horribly scarred. He faced Urien and Arcturas in hand to hand combat, but the rain of arrows from Felkin and Lilia, fire from Ned, and fierce blows brought him down.
In the fray, a column of unholy fire was brought down on our group by the tall one from afar. That caused the floor to begin to blister and boil and everyone ran from the room before the great cyst appeared. The foe went through a distant door, our heroes retreated with the bodies of the fallen and, I believe, the unconscious form of Arcturas – fallen again, closing the door behind them.
Bodies were looted. Stats were adjusted. Healing was administered. Taking a peek through the door, the cyst was seen to have grown and erupted in the chamber beyond the door. The tall figure in plate prayed at a dark altar on the far side of the room, then left again down a hall or into a distant chamber.
Who were these men and what were they doing here – so close to the presence of Chechelon and among such horrid fiends? Where are the “Eyes of Shothragot”? How can this thing be stopped? Can it be stopped in time to save cowering Na’Batum?
That is where we called it for the evening.