Company of the Random Encounter ('complete' 14 Nov 2004)

[Capellan]

"The Hallowed Hills" by Miguel Duran (WotC Cliffhanger) - Part 7

It is two more days before they are ready to return to the caves, and whatever slim hopes were held of the three brothers' survival have faded even further. Nonetheless, the adventurers once more descend into the darkness, for Sirdros insists that even the faintest of hopes must be pursued.

Passing the bodies of both the ghouls and the stirges without mishap, the group explores several more caverns without incident, travelling deeper and deeper underground as they do so.

After several hours, Twinkle stops to wipe her face with her sleeve,

"Is it just me, or is it getting hotter?"

"The air is warmer here." Sirdros agrees. "It is the first time I have not felt chilled, since I returned from my lord Pelor's domain."

"Well, I'm glad someone's enjoying it." Mantreus mutters. The self-styled 'dashing rogue' is finding it hard to look cool whilst dripping with sweat.

"I did not say that." The priest of Pelor responds, "This is not the wholesome warmth of the sun; I care for it no more than you."

"Wholesome or not, we press on." The Padre points into the darkness, "We haven't found the missing Pelorites, yet. Stay alert, though - the last time it was this hot underground, we ran into undead and that death cultist Orc."

"Thanks for the cheery thought." Briar quips, tying back her sweat-stained hair with a scarf.

The air grows ever more hot and humid, until at last the group emerges into a large cavern, which is filled with lush - though rather strange - vegetation. Fungi, tubers and all kinds of bizarre growths, many of them garishly coloured, dot the area. There is one particularly large mound of these growths, largely purple in hue, on the far side of the cavern, near a section of the wall that looks like it has recently collapsed.

"Wait." The Padre holds up a hand to forestall the others from heading across the cavern toward the only other exit, a narrow tunnel that can just be seen behind a natural curtain wall. "Every time we go anywhere in these damn tunnels, something jumps out and tries to kill us."

Anastria glances around and wrinkles her nose,

"The place needs a good clean, that's certain, but I don't see anything dangerous."

"What about that?" the priest points at the purple mound.

"It's just a bunch of over-grown mushrooms." The elven woman sniffs.

"They could be man-eating mushrooms." Twinkle offers, "Or maybe they release hallucinogenic spores so that people near them go crazy and try to kill each other."

"Twinkle, stop helping." The Padre draws out his bow, "I say we shoot a few arrows into it, just to be sure it's not a threat."

"Hey, look everyone - it's a sleeping dragon." Anastria mutters, sarcastically, "Let's shoot it in case it's dangerous."

Oddly, no-one seems particularly interested in the elf's opinion.

Except possibly the mound, which objects rather strenuously to being shot at.

As soon as the first arrow sinks into it, the mound immediately starts shrieking: a deafening noise that echoes and re-echoes in the enclosed space.

"Great!" Anastria yells, struggling to be heard above the din, "Now every monster within half a mile will know we're here and be coming to jump out and kill us!"

The others, however, are far too distracted to concern themselves with the elf's complaints. Instead, their attention is focussed on one especially large, violet-capped fungus, which lurches out of the mound and begins to move toward them. Dragging itself along on dozens of tiny, finger-like roots, the creature is extremely slow, but proves dangerous nonetheless, as two long vines unwind from its body and lash out toward the group.

"You three!" the Padre draws his mace and uses it gesture at Mantreus, Twinkle and Briar, "Put a stop to that racket. The rest of us will deal with the big one."

This proves easier said than done: while the fungi are static targets, or nearly so, that which is easy to hit is not always easy to harm. Their sponge-like flesh absorbs much of the force of bludgeoning blows, while the small holes caused by Anastria's rapier seem to cause them little injury at all.

The vines of the single mobile fungus lash out as the Padre and Sirdros try to surround it. The latter is encased in a heavy layer of armour, and the blow harmlessly slides off his breastplate, leaving a smear of purple-green ichor on the metal, but the Padre is not so fortunate. The vine wraps around his leg, and dozens of hair-like protrusions pierce his skin, injecting the strange venom into his body.

"Damn it!" the priest curses as his leg goes numb, then gives way beneath him. He falls heavily, landing directly in front of the fungus, which looms up, both vines thrashing wildly in the air, ready to strike again and end the helpless priest's life.

 

[Graywolf-ELM]

Thanks for the update Capellan, nothing but an innocent little arrow, not trouble really.

 

[Zaruthustran]

Dun-dun DUN!!!

 

[Capellan]

"The Hallowed Hills" by Miguel Duran (WotC Cliffhanger) - Part 8

There is an orange flash as Mantreus fires a magical bolt of energy into the creature's side. The fungus writhes its tentacles, turning from the Padre to this new foe. It wreaks a fierce vengeance: both Twinkle and Mantreus are struck by the poisonous barbs, the gnome sagging to the ground as the muscles of her chest slacken, making it hard for her to breathe.

It is a fierce vengeance, but it is also just the opening the Padre needs. Pushing himself up on one arm, he raises his mace overhead:

"Saint Cuthbert smite thee!"

Black energy courses along the mace as it smashes a huge chunk of the creature's pulpy flesh. Green and purple goo sprays from the wound, and the fungus thrashes its death throes.

With this threat removed, the shrieking fungi are easily destroyed. Then Briar and Mantreus help the Padre to his feet, and he gingerly tests his leg. It nearly buckles, then holds, trembling slightly from the effort.

"You look terrible." Mantreus opines.

"I feel it. How's everyone else?"

"Sirdros is helping Twinkle; I think she is going to be okay." The sorcerer glances over at the gnome, who is being tended by the elven priest, "But I doubt she can go on. How about you?"

Pride and caution war in the Padre's eyes, before he grudgingly answers,

"It would be best for me if we turned back, I think. The numbness is spreading. You were lucky not to be poisoned, as well."

Mantreus shrugs,

"I'm too pretty to look as bad as you do, right now."

The Padre snorts,

"Let's check this cave, and then head back. The priests should have more restoratives: at least potions and scrolls. If we can persuade them to give us some, we can come back down again."

"I've never persuaded a priest to give me some, before."

Whatever response the Padre might have to Mantreus' comment is forgotten as Briar calls out to them,

"There are two bodies here - I think they might be two of the missing brothers."

The bodies lie under a layer of fresh fungal growth. Though both are partially decomposed, one is sufficiently intact to show signs of a wound to the neck. Both also lie close to the cave-in, which looks fresh enough to have occurred around the time the men went missing.

"This can't be good." Is the Padre's assessment.

"At least we can take my brethren for a proper burial." Sirdros seems to be the only one who draws some solace from this thought. "Anastria and I can take one of the bodies, while Briar and Mantreus take the second. Can you and Twinkle make the journey back, unaided?"

"We'll make it." The Padre responds, stoically.

Make it they do; though the return march is long and slow, and accompanied by a constant stream of muttering from Anastria, who seems less than pleased to act as pallbearer for a 'human cultist'.

With the bodies of the two monks returned to the monastery, and fortified by healing and restorative potions they have bullied out of Abbot Gerrard, the group ventures once more into the darkness of the tunnels. Passing the fungi chamber, they travel on for several minutes, until they reach a cavern which is split by a fissure; not more than ten feet across, but deep enough that they cannot see the bottom.

On the far side of the fissure they can dimly make out the shapes of boulders, and from amidst these dark shapes comes a voice, speaking in broken Common:

"This Broken Tusk Cave. You leave. We not kill."

"Orcs." Twinkle identifies the race of the speaker, "Hiding in the boulders." She points, and Sirdros and Anastria nod their agreement.

"I'm glad you can see them." The Padre mutters, then raises his voice, "You leave, and we not kill."

"You know, it's going to be hard to reach them, over there." Twinkle eyes the fissure, "Unless you plan on jumping."

"We have bows." The Padre waves her objection away.

"They have pretty good cover."

"Listen, so far in these caves we've been smacked around by ghouls, stirges, and casserole ingredients that decided to bite back. After all that, there's no way we're backing down to a bunch of orcs." The priest of St Cuthbert glowers at the others, "Am I right?"

Anastria nods,

"No true elf runs from orcs."

And thus the adventurers follow up the Padre's words with a hail of arrows and crossbow bolts. One of the orcs goes down. A ragged volley of javelins arcs back at them, but they clatter harmlessly on stone or shield.

"I told you we'd take them." The Padre exults. And then a javelin slams into him, driving right through his body to emerge, gore soaked, from his chest. The priest stares at it in shock; not just from the pain of the wound, but from the direction of the attack:

The javelin came from behind them.

 

[Graywolf-ELM]

Are these guys 2nd level? This is some bad luck, or something here below the monastary. That javelin didn't hurt, it's only a flesh wound.

GW

 

[Capellan]

"The Hallowed Hills" by Miguel Duran (WotC Cliffhanger) - Part 9

Orcish warriors burst out of the cover of boulders and stalactites on the party's rear right flank, charging in with swords and axes readied for battle. Sirdros and Twinkle are the closest to this charge, but both react quickly enough to fend off the attacks, turning what might have been a deadly ambush into a more even contest.

Grimacing in pain, the Padre slams his fist into the javelin that has pierced his flesh, snapping away the barbed head and allowing him to force the shaft from the wound. He goes white from the shock and pain, but remains on his feet, grinding out an invocation to St Cuthbert. That dour god, perhaps looking with favour on such tenacity, heals the terrible injury completely.

"They've got a shaman at the back!" Mantreus shouts a warning but there is nothing anyone can do to prevent the orc from completing its own incantation. Those orcs in melee with the group seem to swell slightly with battle-rage, delivering their blows with more speed and power.

Mantreus unleashes a bolt of magical energy at the shaman, but the orc remains solidly on his feet, rattling through another incantation that creates three additional images of himself.

"Somebody deal with him!" the Padre snaps up his crossbow and puts a bolt through the eye of one of the ambushing orcs.

'Dealing with him' means first dispatching the orcs that stand between the group and the caster. However, it rapidly becomes apparent that this is the best tactic for the battle, in any case: the missile fire from the far side of the crevasse was never terribly accurate to begin with. Once the adventurers become locked in melee, it loses even its nuisance value.

Blood spatters onto the stone floor as orc after orc is slain. After the challenges they have already faced in these caverns, the Broken Tusk tribe holds little fear for the adventurers. Only the shaman lasts for any length of time, defending himself with blasts of flame and a gnarled wooden club. Sheltered by the stalactites on one side and the cave wall on the other, only one person can reach him at a time, even after all the other members of his tribe are slain. One by one, his protective images wink out, but the orc himself is almost unhurt.

It is Briar who breaks the deadlock, somersaulting past the shaman. The orc lashes at her with its club as she passes him, but the blow does not connect. Rising smoothly to her feet, the rogue stabs deep into the shaman's side, wounding him deeply. Struggling with the pain of the blow and the distraction of the young woman behind him, the orc fails to parry a crushing blow of the Padre's mace, and is slain.

After looting the bodies on the near side of the crevasse, the adventurers consider how to cross the gap. They can see that the orcs have a pair of makeshift wood and rope bridges rolled up on the far side, but these will be of no use unless one of the group can get across to use them.

"Someone is going to have to jump across, then throw the rope for one of the bridges across to the rest of us." Mantreus observes. A moment later, he realises that everyone is looking pointedly at him, "Hey! Why does someone have to be me?"

"It was your idea." Twinkle smirks.

"Whoever makes the jump will need to carry as little as possible." The Padre has a more logical reason, "And you are the one who is most able to defend himself without weapons and armour." He looks pointedly at the shimmering aura of magical protection that surrounds the sorcerer.

"Fine." Mantreus sighs in the manner of one who is being unjustly persecuted.

"Look at it this way." Briar suggests, "Now, when you try to get women into bed with tales of your bravery, you won't have to make them all up."

Still muttering imprecations about the rest of the group, the sorcerer makes the jump, readily clearing the gap. He quickly throws a rope to the others and they pull it in, drawing the bridge out across the gap. Then - feeling little trust in orcish workmanship - they cross a single person at a time.

More looting of bodies follows, before the group turn their attention to the only exit from the cavern. This leads into another, smaller cave. It is quickly apparent that this was some kind of storage area for the orcs, being filled with various mismatched items that look like they have been looted from the collapsed catacombs.

But what draws the majority of the group's attention is the bound and gagged young man in a monk's robe, who lies against the cave's back wall.

 

[Capellan]

"The Hallowed Hills" by Miguel Duran (WotC Cliffhanger) - Part 10

Once untied, the man introduces himself as Brother Durham, the last - and most senior - of the brethren who entered the caves.

"Thank you for the rescue, good folk." Brother Durham inclines his head in gratitude, "May I ask thee to aid me in returning to the monastery? I must tell the Abbott of what occurred."

"What did occur?" the Padre asks, in the tones of one who is less-than-convinced of Durham's sincerity.

"We came down into the caves many days hence ... I do not know how exactly how long." Durham gives a shrugging wave toward the cave walls, "It is difficult to judge the passage of time here." He pauses to cough, then continues, "When we came down to find the missing relics, we discovered that several of them had been removed. Following the signs of those who took them, we came upon these orcs. I must confess it was foolish of us to follow at all, but we had not realised the number of the band, and sought to catch them before they could travel too far. When I saw how numerous the enemy was, I told Brother Nathaniel and Brother Wickham to flee, while I held the orcs as best I could." He shrugs again, "Obviously I did not do so well as to save myself, but at least the others escaped."

Sirdros clears his throat,

"Actually, Brother, they died. We found their bodies in another cave."

"Really? I had hoped ..." Durham trails off, lowering his gaze to the floor.

"Why didn’t the orcs kill you?" Twinkle asks, from where she is poking through the creatures' belongings, "They usually do that, you know."

"One of the orcs ... an older, white-haired creature ... made some mention of saving me for 'the master'. What this meant, beyond the obvious, I do not know."

The Padre grunts, still suspicious of the other man.

"We can hardly refuse to take him back to the monastery," Briar reminds him, under her breath, "That was what they were sent to do, remember."

Reluctantly, the Priest of St Cuthbert nods,

"Let's get him back, get paid, and get out of here." He glances sourly at the cave around them, "Personally, I've had enough of these caves to last me a lifetime."

Whether they have had enough or not, the group finds it in themselves to make a thorough search of every scrap of the orcs' belongings, before heading back through the caves. When they reach the rope leading back up into the monastery catacombs, the Padre insists that Brother Durham is the last to make the climb.

"Sorry, but we don't know you." Is his explanation, "And while we've never actually been betrayed by the people we're trying to help, so far, there's always a first time. I don't want you climbing up there and cutting the rope on us."

Brother Durham acquiesces to the decision with a shrug,

"You have all been through a great deal, by the looks of it. I cannot fault you for caution, now."

One after the other, the adventurers climb the rope. The Padre is the last to make the climb, before calling down for the other man to join them.

"Thank you, my friends." Durham says as he emerges from the hole, "I would have been stuck below, without your aid."

And then he lashes out with his fist, striking Briar in the throat.

 

[spyscribe]

Just when you think you're being paranoid enough...

 

[IceBear]

Just wanted to say I'm really enjoying this story our and your DMing skills

 

[Capellan]

"The Hallowed Hills" by Miguel Duran (WotC Cliffhanger) - Part 11

Briar reels back, the flesh around her neck turning grey and scabrous.

"Yikes!" Twinkle's eyes are huge and round, "What is he?"

The Padre has no doubts on the matter. He brandishes the holy symbol of St Cuthbert and intones,

"Begone, Creature of Darkness!"

Durham laughs, batting both the holy symbol and the priest aside, and strikes at Anastria. The elf all but crumples as the flesh pulls back around her eyes and mouth, like all the moisture has been sucked away.

"He's undead!" Sirdros swings at Durham with his mace. The blow connects, but seems to have little effect. "A powerful one!"

"Priests!" Twinkle jumps up and down excitedly, "Priests!"

"We're trying!" the Padre snaps, as Durham dodges another blow.

"Not you." Twinkle scampers across the stone floor of the catacombs, heading for the steps into the monastery itself, "Priests. Real Priests. Upstairs."

As the gnome vanishes through the door, shouting for help, the battle rages on. Sirdros and the Padre continue to hammer at Durham with their maces, while Briar looks for an opening to slide her blade into the creature's lungs. When the opening comes, however, the deep thrust of the blade - which would have dropped a normal man in his tracks - seems to barely prick the flesh of Durham.

Anastria, too, struggles to land a telling blow, her style of speed and finesse ill-suited to harming a foe that seems to lack any vital points.

Stepping back from the others, Mantreus hurls tiny bolts of positive energy into the melee. Most miss in the chaos of the fight, and others are accidentally blocked by his own compatriots, but a few sneak through, boiling away part of Durham's flesh.

It is unclear whether these pinpricks finally slow the undead monk, or whether the adventurers simply adjust to his speed and strength, but the two priests finally begin to land a few telling blows. The heavy, spiked heads of their maces, swung with all the force the two men can muster, drive Durham to his knees.

"Die, creature." The Padre spits, slamming his mace into their enemy's skull. Durham's head caves in on the side with a wet sound of impact -

- and then his whole body dissolves into grey-black smoke, boiling away into the darkness of the catacombs.

The Padre curses, even as Twinkle reappears with Abbot Gerrard and half a dozen rather nervous looking acolytes of the monastery.

"He's vanished!" the Priest of St Cuthbert snaps, "Turned into smoke and flew off!"

"A vampire; or rather, the spawn of one." The Abbot's weathered skin pales, but then he holds himself straight and speaks a benediction to Pelor. Frowning in concentration, he points, "This way. We must find him before he has time to recover his strength."

Following the directions of the Abbot, they track Durham - or rather the creature who was once Durham - to a decaying coffin, deep in the recesses of the tunnels. Splintering open the soft wood, they find the vampire spawn within. It lies helpless, still too weak to move, but with its black eyes glaring in hatred at the Padre, as he raises a stake to plunge into its heart.

"You fools. You may have destroyed me, but my master will slay you all. You cannot stand against the might of the Ebon Court."

And then Durham dies, still spitting defiance.

"Anyone heard of this Ebon Court?" the Padre asks. There is a shaking of heads all round, and the Priest of St Cuthbert shrugs his shoulders, "Not our problem, then. Let's go home."

The Padre's words cannot carry into the darkness of the caves beneath the monastery, but - far beyond the sight of the adventurers - Durham's sire senses the death of his spawn. Ancient and powerful, filled with the darkness of ages, he does not even pause in his feast. The human boy had been full of information about the new world above, but he was weak, and his use was at an end.

A low chuckle, as cold as the stone around him, echoes through the inky air. His next children will be strong. Strong as the trees, that will wither and die. Strong as the ice, which will cover the land. Strong as the darkness, which will swallow the sun.

In the night beneath the earth, Draedark the Kinslayer, who has slumbered these thousand years, has awoken again.