Originally published at ParticularlyEvil Developer Blogs. Please leave any comments there.

Howdy Gamers!

Those of you in the New Jersey area on October 24-26 should look into going to Ubercon with the rest of the Particularly Evil staff. We’ll be premiering new Adventurers Wanted! material, and maybe some Ardna games as well!

Check back for our official convention schedule in the coming weeks. Also, if you are interested in becoming an Evil Master and run games for us at Ubercon, email ParticularlyEvil@ParticularlyEvil.com and ask us about how to get involved!

- Staff

Originally published at ParticularlyEvil Developer Blogs. Please leave any comments there.

Howdy all!

There are three reasons for this post:

1. To ask if you’re excited about Dexcon yet?

2. To mention that a new summer game might be added for this (or next) week.

3. To mention that, once again, we the wonderful Storytellers at Particularly Evil had one of our amazing plot-lines torn from one of our games and thrust upon the silver screen!

That’s right - I’m talking about the Golden Army:

*Spoilers for the new Hellboy Movie after the break*

Read the rest of this entry »

Originally published at ParticularlyEvil Developer Blogs. Please leave any comments there.

Things have really piled up, and as such updating the design blog has taken a backseat.  Let’s see if I can rectify this.

By now I have already drafted a working-draft for the Devotion feature of the game.  I’ve decided that experience points will be spent on gaining levels withing a given devotion, and those experience points will equal 1,000 x the level desired.

I also managed to draft several sample Devotions, formed a play-test group to try them out, and am currently in the process of working out the details and playing with this new feature via actual game play.  So far, I am very pleased - and my players seem to be excited as well.

Next up, I’ll post links to games that feature Devotion play, as well as drafts of the Devotion system/samples.

Originally published at ParticularlyEvil Developer Blogs. Please leave any comments there.

Sauron poured all his hate, bile, and wickedness into the one ring – his very soul in fact – and in this newest game design idea I prepare to do the same…

Well, sort of.

Recently, I’ve been considering the role of experience points within the d20 system. As of now, there are basically two methods for using XP in Dungeons and Dragons, one, to advance in levels of a base or Prestige Class, the second, to create magical items. I’ve heard a great number of complaints about how both uses tend to aggravate players, and I believe the current system often falls short of the desires of both storytellers and players alike. In developing my third use for character experience, I needed to address the issues with the first two.

Class advancement has long been the primary role of the experience point system, and often gets the most flak for being broken, bad, or boring. The basic concept goes something like this: A character gathers life experiences as he faces dangers. The more dangerous, the more he learns. The more he learns, the better he becomes. By gaining experiences, you gain level, and each level brings a development of powers. It’s simple, and serves the purpose for with it was developed. Characters can choose to advance in base Classes, or if they meet certain prerequisites, Prestige Classes. Game Masters have the option of modifying what they give experience points for to reflect whatever it is that they and their players choose to make the focus of their storytelling sessions. I usually give just as many experience points for good role-playing and storytelling as I do for beating monsters and challenges. The reasoning is simple: As characters prove themselves to be the focus point of the heroic story we are trying to tell, these characters can become more powerful and impressive.

Now, one of the issues I’ve heard about the use of experience points for Class advancement results from the exponential rate of requirement to level up. In other words, you need a lot more experience points to go from level 19 to 20 then you do to get from level 1 to 2, even when you take into account the higher XP rewards usually gathered when facing challenges geared towards higher level characters. Now, the reason this is sometimes a problem is because it requires players to plot out the path their character’s will take in regard to Classes at an early stage, or risk becoming mired down.

For example, let’s say there is a Prestige Class called: Super Ninja. The various prerequisites for the Class (base attack bonus, feats, etc) can be reached in different ways. If your character was a Fighter, he would qualify at as early as 5^th level. If he were a Rogue, he’d qualify at 7^th level. If he were a Monk, he’d qualify at 10^th level. For the purposes of this example, it doesn’t really matter what the hypothetical prerequisites are, only that certain paths allow you to take that first level of Super Ninja faster then others. Some player will, no doubt, wish to take levels in Rogue and Fighter to reach Super Ninja, and it may even be possible to be a Wizard and reach the Super Ninja prerequisites, but only as a high level Wizard, and only by wasting lots and lots of feats in the attempt to replicate all the things you would have gotten far cheaper if you had only trained in the proper Classes.

So, where does this leave us? Well, a wise player, who thought ahead and knew where he wanted his character to go, would start life as a Fighter if he indeed wanted to be a Super Ninja at some point in his career. That way, by the time his Character Level was 6, he’d already have had his first level in the desired Prestige Class. If, on the other hand, the player made the “mistake” of choosing to start his character’s life as a Monk, he’d have to wait until his Character Level was 11 (ten levels in Monk, one in Super Ninja) before he could start his path in the life of a Super Ninja. Since it’s a lot easier to reach 6^th Level then 11^th, we see that the Fighter path was indeed the correct choice for the would-be Super Ninja.

But not exactly. See, the Monk/Super Ninja does have a number of advantages to the Fighter/Super Ninja. The Monk/Super Ninja has several powers that the Fighter/Super Ninja does not, as he has five extra levels in a Class that may indeed be useful to his adventuring career. He will hit harder then the Fighter/Super Ninja. His saves will be better, as will his stats. In short, while it is true that the Monk/Super Ninja path is slower then the Fighter/Super Ninja path, it is not all at a loss – in fact, the end result is a character that reaches the fabled heights of Super Ninja-dom as a generally more powerful character.

So we see that picking the fastest route to a Class is great, but not necessarily all-important. This does not belittle the idea that good planning is without merit, but merely shows how you can salvage any choice in path so long as you are generally going in the correct direction.

Still, one can not deny that if your true ultimate goal is to become a Super Ninja, it’s a lot easier to gain that goal if you take the path of least resistance. In a game where gaining a Knighthood, Mastery of a Tower, or Regency is the passion of the characters, it makes sense to reward the powerful, rather then penalize them. If Regency were made into a Prestige Class, it would mean that characters of certain Classes that more easily meet the prerequisites would have more success as Regents as compared to more powerful characters that, while of higher level, coincidently failed to meet the prerequisites as of yet. The answer to this, it would seem, would be to merely rethink the choice of prerequisites for gaining the Regency Prestige Class – but this too is a mistake. Even if the prerequisite for the supposed Prestige Class was something any character could have even at the earliest levels (family birthright, for example), it would still mean that the 1^st level Fighter would have an easier time gaining levels in the Regency Prestige Class as compared to a 20^th level Wizard (or 20^th level Fighter, Noble, or anything, for that matter). Merely because it takes a lot more experience points to rise from nineteenth to twentieth level then it does from first to second, the Prestige Class system truly fails when faced with a set of powers that should be easier to gain as a character grows in power. If I were a high-level character in the world, and I was offered a Knighthood that came with advancing powers that grew as a leveled up, I would expect to be able to advance through that Knighthood faster then a low-level character would. However, under the basic system, that would not be so.

I uncovered a solution to this problem while reading The Lord of the Rings again, contemplating the characters of great noble bloodlines in the story, (like Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, and Aragorn, the Heir of Isildur), and the nature of Sauron’s one ring. In the story, as in many myths, the great figures of the world pour their very essence into objects, places, and titles – and thereby breathed life into them – linking themselves forever to the fate of the thing that holds their passion.

If forced to recreate this under the mechanics of the d20 system, one would say that character’s such as Sauron were using the magical item creation rules for the game. Here, as the designers of the game wished to mimic, a character puts his own essence into the items he forges, spending experience points to create magical wonders. This is the second major use of experience points according to the basic system.

Here too I have heard many complaints. Players rarely seem to enjoy the idea of “wasting” experience points on the creation of items when those same points could otherwise be spent on improving themselves. This is, I think, understandable. My own major issue with the use of experience points to create items generally focuses around their use in creating temporary, or non-artifact quality, items. I love the idea of putting a part of your soul into a magic sword or one ring – but the idea of putting into a potion or scroll indeed seems a bit wasteful.

That aside, the idea of expending experience points in such a matter helped me think about these esoteric numbers on our character sheets in a different way. Suddenly, experience points were not just the record of how well we did against the challenges set against us in a story, but rather the representation of the power behind the characters themselves. They were the character’s soul, tangible, expendable, and able to be focused upon a task, mission, or career path (i.e. Class).

With this in mind I went about designing a major addition to the basic structure of a game using the d20 system – a new means in which to use experience points. At first I referred to them as “soul classes”, because they behaved in ways that were similar to Classes (powers that increased in levels) and because they involved the expenditure of a character’s soul in ways similar to the ways that inspired the basic idea of spending XP to make items. Under this new mechanic, a player can link their character to a Realm, Ideal, Role, or any number of other physical or esoteric concepts; and that thing will grow as the character grows. There will be a great number of different passions, like Prestige Classes, that focus on how different characters can devote themselves, and for this reason I have officially began referring to this mechanic as Devotions, which like Race and Class, will become an essential part of defining a d20 character.

Devotions come in several parts. Initially, there are several prerequisites that must be met before a character can choose to advance in a Devotion. For example, a potential Devotion Class might be the “Master of Towers”. This Devotion is suitable for any character that wishes to become a powerful magic user and ruler of a great Tower of Sorcery. To take levels in the Devotional Class, Master of Towers, a character must first be in control of a magical tower, and may also have to be a spell-caster of a certain level. With these requirements, it is possible to restrict powerful Devotions (ones that offer potent powers with each level of advancement) only to those characters who are powerful enough to have earned them, while simultaneously allowing the creation of other Devotions (say, Inn Keeper) that require considerably less notoriety within the world.

The next aspect of Devotions are the powers that they grant. Devotions that are more difficult to acquire (the Master of Towers) should offer great power, while those Devotions more easily obtained (the Inn Keeper) should offer lesser powers. Powers develop with each level acquired, and should never extend to aspects of the character that are unrelated to the Devotion in question. In no way should either the Master of Towers or the Inn Keeper need to have either of their base attack bonuses increase. The Noble Devotion, for example, would offer powers that increased the productivity of their homeland, not offer better saves for the character.

Thus far, Devotions seem very similar to Prestige Classes, with the exception that the powers offered by Devotions are more focused upon the nature of the character’s passion then the development of the character himself. The third aspect of Devotions are where they differ even further from their Prestige Class cousins; how advancement within a Devotion works.

If Devotional advancement worked the same way as Prestige Class advancement, we’d have the following scenario: The 5^th level Wizard, Mike the Meager, has found an abandoned tower. He wishes to claim it and begin to take levels in the Master of Towers Devotion, which would allow magical effects within the tower to be much more powerful. However, the prerequisite for taking the Master of Towers Devotion is to control a tower and be at least a 10^th level Wizard. Too bad for Mike the Meager, he’ll have to go out adventuring or spend long periods studying and come back later.

But his cousin, George the Good, a 10^th level Wizard has found his own tower nearby, and has decided to take the Devotion of Master of Towers as well. He has met the prerequisites for the first level of the Devotion, so after some study and adventuring of his own, he is ready to spend his next character level (his eleventh) to gain the first rank in Master of Towers. Hurray!

Now, so far, so good. George and Mike are equally positioned here, George got the Devotion faster then Mike, but that’s understandable, because he’s far more powerful the Mike. Actually, Mike is really going to get the Devotion at the same time as George did in the grand scheme of things – that is to say, after he’s gone out into the world and done the same amount of adventuring and gathering of experience.

But along comes Arnold the Amazing. Arnold is a 20^th level Wizard, and has seen so much wonder in the world as to make the gods weep. The land is going through a new age, however, and it is high time that he sequester himself away to a Tower of Sorcery and contemplate his navel like a good wizard should. He finds one near the other two, and claims it as his own, but there is a problem. While he certainly meets the prerequisites for the Master of Towers Devotion, he is so powerful that in order to gain his first level in the Devotion, he would have to slay a lesser god. Now, he is also powerful enough to do that – but it’s still rather awkward. Imagine being Arnold the Amazing, going to the local Wizard’s Moot, and meeting up with George the Good, well on his way to Mastering his Tower while you’re still looking for the easiest epic quest to finish before you go on your way.

This is the trouble with the basic Class advancement system. While it is a matter of personal opinion whether the 6^th level Fighter/Super Ninja is better off then the 11^th level Monk/Super Ninja, it is clear that the 10^th level George the Good has a much easier time doing the same thing that the 20^th level Arnold the Amazing wishes to do. In cases of pure Prestige Class training, even choosing the wrong path has some nice consolation prizes. Say we were talking about a 10^th level Wizard that wants to take levels in the “Dark Wizard” Prestige Class versus a 20^th level Wizard that wants to take levels in that same Prestige Class. True, the 20^th level Wizard would have more difficulty gaining that first Prestige Class level then his 10^th level counterpart, but at least he is clearly a more accomplished spell-caster. But in cases where the thing you are trying to level up is not directly related to your own powers – the incentives seem reversed. The Devotion is a thing of outward appearance, something that differentiates you from others, akin to membership in an elite club (the way, perhaps, certain Prestige Classes, like Arcane Archers, should have been treated). For these reasons, those characters of greater power should, logically, have an easier time advancing in those fields.

My first attempt at a solution was based on a method inspired by a few Prestige Classes, whereas gaining a level in the Devotion would instantaneous grant all the benefits of gaining a level in a given base Class. It was inspired, as I said, by Prestige Classes where each level grants some benefit akin to “+1 level to spell-caster Class”, only in the Devotion version, gaining a level in a Devotion would result in advancing in a base or Prestige Class in all respects, including base attack bonus, saves, increased spells and spells per day, and any other special abilities. Effectively, in every way but total experience points needed to advance to the next level, a character advancing in a Devotion would be leveling twice: once in their main Class or Prestige Class, and once in their Devotion.

For example, a 10^th level Wizard attempting to level up in the Master of Towers Devotion would gain all the benefits of being an 11^th level Wizard as well as a 1^st level Master of Towers. In the same respect, a 20^th level Wizard attempting to begin leveling up as a Master of Towers would gain all the benefits of a 21^st level Wizard upon gaining the first level of their Devotion.

This is a partial solution. It lessons the pain of being an overly powerful character attempting to advance in something that their presence and prestige should make easier, but it does not eliminate it. George the Good will still have an easier time advancing in the ranks of the Master of the Towers as compared to Arnold the Amazing, if only because it’s easier for George to reach level eleven then it would be for Arnold to reach level twenty-one. True, in this version, Arnold is not strictly penalized for taking the Devotion, but he still moves slower then his less capable comrades.

The problem is that the d20 system is, at its core, all about delay of gratification. You are meant to work hard at developing a character; slowly unlocking secret powers as you go, becoming more heroic only after you reach given points in your epic story. My latest concept for working experience points as they relate to Devotions, while the simplest, seems best suited for this most unusual addition to the basic game mechanic – the only, that I can remember, that intentionally rewards powerful characters for the sheer fact of being powerful. At the same time, it does not “break” the system. Dungeons and Dragons characters are meant to be heroes, in the Classic sense of the word. This allows the greatest of them to affect the world in real and systematic ways, to extend their characters to the very playing field that the rest of the campaign rests in, and to do so while simultaneously reaping the benefit of character advancement.

Under this solution, Devotions will still require carefully designed prerequisites. These will be established to ensure that only characters of reasonable power, position, and authority have the ability to move forward with the passions that rule them. Advancement within a Devotion will vary in power greatly depending on the nature of the Devotion and the ease to which someone might make the prerequisites. Master of Towers are rare, but Inn Keepers, devoted as they may be to their businesses, are still a far more common and less powerful calling.

A character will advance within their chosen Devotion though a series of levels, much like they do in their Class, but on a tier of experience that is separate from the one they use for Class leveling. In this way, after a character reaches the prerequisites for a given Devotion, they can advance to the first level of that Devotion immediately. Thereafter, they advance level by level as if they were using the basic experience point table, from the bottom up. This means that to reach the second level of a Devotion, the character need only to gain 1,000 experience points – the required experience point total to reach the 2^nd level according to the basic XP Chart. Furthermore, the experience points used to advance through a Devotion will not be deducted, and can also be used to advance through Classes.

This means that powerful characters, easily able to make the experience point totals required to rush through the lowest levels in the experience point chart, will be able to breeze through Devotions. Suddenly, that 20^th level Wizard that decided to settle in a tower has no trouble becoming a Master far faster then his 10^th level equivalent.

The only trouble I foresee is the possible need to include many half steps in this new design for Devotions. If Devotions are too easy to obtain, then we need to include enough steps to keep players interested, or else characters will master their Devotions far too quickly. On the other hand, if the prerequisites for Devotions are too high, then only the greatest of characters would be able to gain them, and then they would quickly breeze through the various levels that make up the Devotion in a matter of a few epic encounters. Balance is the key here, it would seem, but play-testing is required before I can move any further. It’s possible that forcing experience points to be spent on Devotions, like in the creation of magical objects, may make a slightly more balanced option. Although, that does seem to favor higher level characters who could afford to spend the experience on the Devotions. Or, It may be that I might have to create a separate experience point table for use exclusively with Devotions, although if this is the case I would only modify the minimum points required for advancement – I would want the source of advancement, experience points themselves, to remain true.

Originally published at ParticularlyEvil Developer Blogs. Please leave any comments there.

Looking for the Ardna Campaign Journal? Well, visit the journal directly by clicking here.

Originally published at ParticularlyEvil Developer Blogs. Please leave any comments there.

With the announced release of Dungeons & Dragons 4.0, we’ve been putting some thoughts into relaunching Ardna: The Living Earth. As I’ve said elsewhere, we will continue to support 3.5 expansions with Ardna, but we are interested in the rumored simplified setup that 4.0 will bring.

Stay tuned for more updates on changes to come.

Godhead

Episode 5: The Quest Begins           --          October 19, 2005

[This game, and the one to immediately follow, is a side adventure set years earlier in Living Earth.]

The Adventurers Guild is the world renowned league of gentlemanly heroes and explorers that have entered the twilight of their careers and have decided to retire in luxury to the old oak furniture, hearth warmed dens, and brandy filled snifters of the upper class.  Known as much for their charitable acts and community services as for the amazingly famous (and sometimes infamous) acts of the legendary heroes that make up their membership, the Adventurers have spread far and wide across the world, leaving chapters wherever large kingdoms, cities, and their alumni reside.

Joining the Adventures is no easy task.  While the rewards for being a part of such an illustrious group are many, few are up to the task of working their way into the private society.  For a hero to even be considered, they must have had a long and illustrious career, with the requirement of at least a few daring acts and heroic deeds to claim as their own.  Many are those that work their entire adventuring lives struggling to do something that would draw the notice of the secretive group of higher masters that rule the Adventurers Guild, to no avail.

Our story begins with three such individuals.

Silton Darrybow was a gnomish bard, high in spirit and low in life experience.  He had seen much of the world, but had avoided any of the darker experiences that sometimes haunt the careers of other adventurers.  While this gave the young one no discomfort, he longed to experience the big thrills of the open road, the real and true risks of living a daring life.  He had managed to receive a minor position among the Adventures in the chapter located in the hamlet of Dunwick, on the border of the Black Forest to the north of the Elven Homeland.  The Dunwick Chapter, however, treated him as little more then a recruit.  Simply put, Silton hadn’t enough experience or glory in his life to warrant a more dignified role.  How could he ever add to the romantic stories he played as a bard if he never got a chance to do anything worthwhile himself?

One day, while strumming softly in a corner of the Adventurers’ lodge, the doors burst open to reveal Klaus Johansson, a leading member of the Dunwick Chapter.  The various gray beards gathered around in a flurry when Johansson collapsed upon himself in the doorway.  He had been missing for some time now, and many had expected him to have been out on expedition to some faraway corner of the world.  Instead, Johansson was before them, withered away and gibbering like a madman.

By the time his wounds were treated and he was put to bed rest, rumors had already begun to spread on what had happened.  In the weeks leading up to his disappearance, Johansson had become obsessed with the mysterious lost city known to many as the “Jewel of the Wastes”.  According to legend, at the dawn of creation the Gods battled beings of pure Chaos, great djinns that threatened the world.  Although the gods were successful in defeating their enemies, the battle caused the great disaster known as Moonfall, where the orb in the heavens that served as the seat of the gods came crashing down to earth.  The resulting devastation created a great blight across the heart of the world, making an artificial wasteland that tore through reality and destroyed some of the greatest civilizations that the world had ever seen.  The lost city that Johansson quested for was once such a great kingdom in the middle of this cursed terrain now known as the Twilight Wastes.

Johansson spoke of strange things in his fever dreams.  He spoke of the lost city as if he had found it, and he spoke of an Enchantress that was held prisoner within.

The Adventurers Guild spared no expense making sure Johansson was comfortable, but other then that nothing was done.  The Jewel of the Wastes was a lost cause, a lunatic’s desire for greatness and mysticism that belonged more to the fancy of storytellers then an objective for serious minded heroes.  In other words, it was perfect for the bard.  Silton thought he found an opportunity for greatness in the making and a way to do some good at the same time.  If he could assemble a group of heroes to rescue this Enchantress and uncover the Jewel of the Wastes, perhaps he could help save Johansson and earn the respect necessary to make something of himself in the Adventurers!

Of course, to do so would mean assembling a group under the noses of the guild.  By pressuring a young nobleman clerk named Ian, Silton searched through reams upon reams of Adventurer lodge-books to obtain the names of several inductees, servants, and hangers-on that were just as eager as he to make a name for themselves amongst the society of heroes.  He soon set out to gather his party.

***

The first stop was a tavern where Xavier, a skilled human warrior and Pious, his loyal bugbear companion were known to frequent.  The two unlikely friends were followers of the God of Discord, Change, and Conflict.  In fact, rumor had it that the bugbear was a cleric, and quite skilled at the divine arts.  Xavier and Pious had both tried unsuccessfully to make an impression upon the Dunwick Chapter, hoping to earn a place amongst the Adventurers.  Xavier was getting on in years and was ready to settle down and start a dignified smithy outfit, if only he could recruit enough apprentices without scaring them off with his gruff nature.  Pious had devoted his life to the freeing of victimized people, and it was in this way that he met Xavier.  Being a bugbear, Pious could never understand Xavier’s rootless existence.  Without family and tribe, Pious would be nothing, so he longed to aid his friend find a sense of community, even if it was with a bunch of snotty dried up heroes.  Unfortunately, it was a case of the blind leading the blind, and both Xavier and Pious botched their attempts to draw fame and recognition from the guild.

When Silton appeared at the tavern offering them the chance to save a maiden and garner the attention of the Adventurers, Pious and Xavier were willing to give it a try.

With the clever bard, solemn cleric, and brave fighter, they knew they would need some magic to round out their number.  Among the research Silton had acquired was information about a strange figure seen lingering around the ruins of a forgotten and cursed barn at the outskirts of Dunwick.  Traveling there, the party found an eerie sight.  The dilapidated barn was host to some strange mystical incantations, and the smell of death was in the air.  Cautiously they entered to find a raven greeting them at the door.  From the shadows, they were approached by Karsh Ullegrend, a dwarven necromancer who was exiled from the Great Wall for his heretical beliefs.  His grim demeanor and dark calling seemed ill-fitted for the rest of the group, until he heard mention of the prize that they sought.   Long had sorcerers and wizards sought evidence of the Jewel of the Wastes, and an arcane wielder alone could decipher the many clues needed to uncover its lost location.   Pious and Xavier may not have liked or even trusted the strange dwarf, but they realized they needed him.  Karsh may not have enjoyed the company of such tight minded fools, but he needed them.  At long last, Silton seemed to have the party he was searching for.

***

To make the long journey to the Twilight Wastes, they would need provisions and a guide.  Silton had known a man who worked with him in the Adventurers named Ichi.  A clever and skilled man, Ichi was the wagon and horse master for the guild, and would be able to bring the party to the Twilight Wastes with the right resources.  He too was eager to show himself worthy.

With some clever forgery and the naivety of the diplomat clerk Ian, they procured funds, weapons, supplies, horses, and passports to travel all the lands necessary to reach the fabled Twilight Wastes.  Legend stated that the wastes could be reached by traveling through the Great Dessert.  They also obtained maps of the area and went to visit Johansson in secret one last time before heading out.

The old man was surrounded by the splendor of a successful adventuring life where he lay in his room, but stayed motionless and wrapped in his bed.  Ian lead the party in to speak with him, and while Pious tried to ease his pain the others asked Johansson what he could tell them of the location of the Jewel of the Wastes, and his imprisoned Enchantress.  Johansson was still clearly delirious, but he did manage to mumble one thing as he drew it with his finger on the center of their map.  

“Blue… blossoms…”

He was asked what he meant by that, but it was clear that the man was too far gone to answer.  Ian had remarked that he had heard that some of the masters at the Dunwick Chapter were attempting to make sense of what Johansson was mumbling about, but the heroes knew better then to risk jeopardizing their cover to ask for advice.  Satisfied that they did all that they could from here, they headed out to begin their journey.

Ichi had arranged to meet a ranger guide at the outskirts of Dunwick, near where the start of the Elven Homeland began.  Expecting to see an elven ranger, they were shocked to see a female gnoll whisk up to the party and begin to guide.  Her nose and tracking skills were unmatched, however, and soon everyone began to take comfort in their progress.

Soon after heading out, the gnoll ranger, who went by the name of Tasha, asked a pertinent question.  Had they really left on a quest for a long lost city, and not thought of bringing a thief with them?  The bard almost kicked himself, and the rest would have lent him a hand (or foot) had the ranger not offered to lead them to a local town to see if a skilled rogue could be obtained.  When Ichi asked where they would look to find a rogue, she simply said, “Check the prisons if you want to find a crook, the one that is in no hurry to get out is either a murderer, insane, or the right thief for the job.”

They took her advice.

In the first town they stopped in, sitting in a jail cell with free room and board, and having never actually been arrested for anything in the first place, was a halfling calling himself Puck.  Thinking that a rogue that could easily bust himself into jail on a lark was a handy addition, they got their new friend to come along.  Interestingly enough, Puck wasn’t so much asked as recruited, but as halflings go, he didn’t mind much.

Before leaving this territory, they were surprised to find the young clerk Ian had followed them to their camp.  He had bad news; the Adventurers had uncovered the forgery and realized that equipment and funds were taken to undergo an unauthorized quest for the Jewel of the Wastes.  Ian had left in secrecy to join the bastards that had played him for a fool and risked his professional career.  He reasoned that now they had all reached the point of no return, and unless they were successful in their quest, they would be in dire straits with the guild.  That was a fate no one wanted.

With this, their party was complete and the quest had begun.

***

Ichi took them by road and river to the lands of the great Empire, and from there into the Halfling Badlands.  Being well stocked and equipped, and being no strangers to adventure themselves, they managed to travel quickly enough through this hostile terrain and into the neighboring sand-seas that made up the Great Dessert.  This dessert was part natural, part a result of close proximity to the Twilight Wastes.  It was through the dessert that the party hoped to reach their fantastic destination.

The first stop was a magnificent community hidden in the sands, a large city where traders met around a carefully guarded oasis that sprang up just at the edge of the enormous dessert.  If they were going to go any further in this alien and hostile terrain, they would need fresh equipment and guides.

Word had it that a fierce Gnoll Nation was active in the dessert surrounding the oasis, and that they were well over several hundred strong.  Karsh made a contact in a darkened corner of the bazaar that explained to him that unless he could find a mystical sand walker to guide his party, than he would have to recruit a pack of gnolls as an escort through these lands.  The contact reasoned that while the gnolls were fierce, they could be reasoned with and bribed, and in this way the heroes could make it through their territory without being harassed.  The contact took a small finders fee, and arranged for the party to meet with a band of gnoll guides on the outside of the settlement, near a small gathering of rocks out in the foothills.

That night, the party met at the rocks hoping to make a deal for some gnoll guides to help them through the dessert and points beyond.  Before reaching the outcrop, Tasha gave her companions a few pointers.  Gnolls are territorial, and may not accept another gnoll in their presence, let alone humanoids.  She also advised her party to be armed and confident at all times, and to never expose their throats or other vulnerable parts.  Any sign of weakness can inspire an attack.  She then left with the halfling to scout ahead around the meeting spot for signs of where the guides would be.

Suddenly, a volley of bolts came raining down upon the party from the rock formations.  It was an ambush!

In the darkness the fiends shot at the party while they tried to take cover and retaliate.  The bard played furiously as the wizard cursed at those he could spy from their cover.  The cleric shook off the attacks as if they were the buzzing of flies, and the fighter took blind shots, hitting the enemy right between the eyes.  Eventually, the last brigand was brought down, only to reveal that it was not gnolls but the contact and his men that had made the ambush.

Before the party could angrily go back to square one, Tasha sniffed the air.  She said they had company, and low and behold it was true.  Several dozen pairs of white eyes shone out in the darkness of the night, as a fierce gnoll chieftain growled and approached.  He ridiculed them for falling into such an obvious human trap, and did his best to test the party with intimidation, but they were all prepped well by Tasha, and held their ground.  Impressed, the Chieftain asked what they had wanted with the gnolls in the first place.  The party described their search for the Jewel of the Wastes, and offered the emptied city as a trophy for the gnolls if they would act peacefully and guide them through the dessert.  The gnolls chief seemed interested, but asked what the party could offer that the gnolls themselves could not get on their own.  Silton put it bluntly, “Why risk your lives in uncovering and dealing with the mystery of the lost city?  You can just lead us there, let us free the Enchantress and uncover the secrets we seek, and you guys reap the benefit.”

The deal was done and the party had their guides.

***

The road with the gnolls was a hard one.  Water and food were scarce, despite the skill that their guides had in acquiring more.  They road at night, and road hard, resting all day.  It was only in the morning sun, when it was too hot to work and too bright to sleep that the party got any planning done.

Over the past few days, each of the party had kept themselves busy in various ways.

Noticing Ian’s skill and interest in healing, Pious began to instruct the young man in the divine arts.  Being a disciple of the God of Conflict, Pious was careful to explain pain’s role in the process of healing.  Xavier helped demonstrate this point when he punched Ian after cauterizing one of his many wounds.

Karsh was busy with his own experiments.  A master alchemist, the dwarf was delving into potions and poisons that rivaled those found in nature.  Eventually, Karsh devised a potent drug, which he gave to the all too willing gnoll guides.  The drug kept them happy and filled with energy and fire, which they expended through maddening dances into the night.  The dwarf himself was a frequent sampler of his own wares, and it was this wicked craft that allowed the journey to pass for him.

Tasha was keeping an ear, eye, and snout open for changes in the hierarchy of the gnoll band they were running with.  Having become very interested in the dwarf’s potions, Tasha began to devise a plan on how to use the sweet nectar to ingratiate herself into this powerful pack.

Xavier had finally found another sane human to relate to in Ichi, having spent so much of his life in the company of humanoids and goblinoids of varying degrees of sanity.  The two men were agreed that the others were too distracted by their own inanity to truly understand the situation they were in.  Xavier had great plans for the fame and fortune he’d receive after solving this mystery.  Ichi also seemed to be a dreamer.  He believed that men were in many ways better off then the other races, because they were not born special in any way, but rather had to make something special out of themselves.  Ichi wanted to make something out of himself; something big.

Xavier would have been satisfied for a party that didn’t have some many damn little folk in it.

Silton and Puck, being very small, were listing the various places they thought they could hide on a bet.  Both agreed that the bugbear’s mouth would be an interesting choice.

***

This whole time, the party pondered the question of the “blue blossoms”.  Johansson had given them an approximate location to travel to, but without a definite point they were doomed to travel the dessert for years.  The clue, “blue blossoms” was no help… until the day their gnoll guides happened to overhear.

When trying to navigate, the party showed the gnolls their map, complete with the hastily drawn flower over the region where they wanted to travel.  The gnolls began to grumble in their own savage tongue, and quickly turned away going back to their duties on the open sands.  Tasha said that one of the gnolls said something about “evil flowers” when the Chieftain dismissed him and they all turned away.  Thinking it better not to push their violent hosts, the party let it be for now.

Over the course of the journey, Karsh had regularly administered “libations” to the gnolls, and Tasha had become increasing interested in their joy for the substance.  Ian too, had gotten curious to the strange dwarf’s gifts, much to the chagrin of Pious.  Pious had found that Ian was very adept at the gifts of healing and anatomy, and understood well the duality of injury and health, but had an utter failing at the divine.  Still, if Ian would ever become a cleric, it would have to be under the tutelage of the God of Discord, for the young man had none of the false sentimentality that comes with the other more palpable gods.

Ian’s interest in Karsh was proving to be a major kink in Pious’ instructions.

Karsh preached about the role of death in life, and how undeath was simply a tool to be manipulated.  It was these same beliefs that caused him to become a pariah amongst his own people, who barely condone the use of undead as a weapon against other undead, let alone as a common tool of labor.  The necromancer held great power in his hands, and it was clear that he was all too familiar with it to take it as seriously as it deserved.

Ian didn’t necessarily see the conflict.  As far as he was concerned, dealing with certain aspects of death was just as valid as healing back grievous injuries.  Pious explained that healing was a part of nature, but nothing that dies should ever naturally return.  Since the young man didn’t have much of a gut for the putrescence of death, he allowed his holy tutor to make his point.

It seemed as if that argument would have kept bouncing back and forth until the day an accident out in the sands shook things up at camp.

One morning, while waiting for the hottest part of the day to pass, Tasha, Pious, Silton, and Puck went out to scout ahead.  Ichi was deep in meditation out in the scorching sun, as was his habit, when each morning he woke to read from his devotional text.  Xavier had expressed an interest, especially when he discovered that the book described, among other things, the way of war.  Ichi tore Xavier half of this books to read himself when he got the chance.

Ian had again taken up pestering Karsh about the way his craft worked, being careful to wait until Pious was gone before asking questions.   Pious would be pleased at least to find that the young man seemed totally disinterested in the manipulation of the undead, but merely had the intense desire to learn.

While out on point, Tasha uncovered some strange bruise-black tubers in the sand, with fine cactus pricks on the outside rind.  Thinking they were cactus fruit, she picked at one only to have it ensnare her muzzle.  The creature grew long thin vines from the ground, and it was only the combined strength of the gnoll, bugbear, and halfling (ahem) that managed to pull Tasha free.

In the struggle, they happened to unearth an enormous writhing beast, whose roots and many spore vines that once lay hidden under the sands now massed up on the surface exposed to the sun.  The monster plant was more then 30 cubic yards around, and was of the type the halflings of the badlands feared, calling it Pithannie.  They were lucky it was just a young one, and that they were not all eaten alive.

When the exhausted scouts returned to the camp, the others decided that enough was enough.  They needed to know where exactly they were headed for in this cursed dessert, and the only way they could do that was to confront the gnolls about the blue blossoms.

Tasha challenged the leader of the gnoll band about what he knew about the blue blossoms, but the Chieftain remained evasive.  Tasha pushed back, and with a healthy dose of feminine wile demanded more answers from the gnoll.  The Chieftain came through; apparently, certain human nomads were known to use a potion derived from these strange plants in a ritual that allowed them to “see things that should be left unseen,” and that the gnolls kept their distances from these fools.  Offering a dose of Karsh’s brew as encouragement, Tasha asked for her group to be led to these nomads… but it wasn’t drugs that the Chieftain had his eye on.

And that was how the clever Tasha found herself as the alpha female in the band.

The party had come to realize that to locate the Jewel of the Wastes they would have to find these mysterious nomads and discover their secret method of using the blue blossoms to “see the unseen”, but to do that they would have to cultivate some strange fruit indeed.

"You are today where your thoughts have brought you; you will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you."
~ James Allen

Title: "König der Diebe"
System: d20
Setting: Living Earth Adventure

Story: Life isn't kind to dirty thugs like you, but then again you've never been so kind to living things either. It's not that you're evil, it's just that you do what needs to be done when you've been given a job - and if that means busting heads, well, so be it. You are skilled professionals, and your latest assignment is to go deep into a god forsaken wasteland and rob this lost treasure horde that may never have even existed in the first place. Don't worry, you'll be paid well for all this.

Concept: Your characters are professional treasure hunters, working for a band of gnomes that specialize in this strange import/export business. They can come from all walks of life, but are primarily interested in making money, having adventures, or freeing lost treasures from obscurity.

Requirements: Living Earth approved characters. 4-6 players approx. No characters already tied up in an exciting campaign. No other restrictions

Levels: You are allowed to create 5th level characters for this game.

Character Creation: For those of you that wish to create new characters for the adventure, character creation begins before game time. You may request a pregenerate character by emailing me. You may generate your own character beforehand by emailing me.

Date and Time: Thursday, October 6, 9pm ish. (After Vin's game) We will meet on the 3rd floor balcony study lounge or 4th floor reserved room.

Questions: Email me.

In order to reserve a spot to play, you must RSVP. Thank you!

Godhead

Episode 4: The Sleep of Reason       --          September 29, 2005

The party took off after the path of the tracks, towards the territory of Master Lucian, lord of the School of Medicine.  They hated to think of what such a butcher would have done with all those innocent souls, but they knew they would have no peace until the truth was revealed.

The heroes walked the slopping edge between the river and the lands of various lords until they reached an area of wood that was within the terrain of Master Lucian.  Crossing over and walking for many more hours, it was not until well after dusk that the smell of acrid smoke filled their senses.  Somewhere up ahead, a city lay burning.

Making their way through the woods they came upon the cityscape that was once the hub for Lucian’s lands.  The great river that had flowed freely through the center of this lush metropolis was now choked off with debris, and many of the building had succumbed to siege machine and fire.  The vibrant marketplaces were torn and burnt.  The great bridges that spanned the city were crushed.  This was once one of the oldest, most stylized human city many of the party had seen, but now it was nothing more then the leavings of a brutal war.

As they made their long, arduous way towards the center of the town where the University once lay, they passed ruin after tragic ruin.  This place could have been so much more.  In some places, bodies pierced by many arrows went floating by in the river.  The odd boulder here and there was testament to the strength of the attackers that sacked this town.

At one point, the party passed a massive congregation of corpses lodged in a bay at one edge of the Great River.  There were several hundred bodies there, many in an advanced stat of rot, and all wrapped in traditional white funeral clothes.

It was not until they had traveled further upstream that they saw the source of the bodies; a massive flood that had overtook a graveyard, unearthing the poor souls interred below.

Onward they traveled until at last they had reached the site of the great school of medicine that had served as the center of the city.  It had been devastated by catapult and other attacks, but was still more or less intact.  The main bridge that led to the school had been destroyed, apparently before the siege had begun, presumably to protect the school from a direct invasion.  On the far side of bridge, the invading army had apparently left yet another skeleton wearing a leather bird mask, hung on a cross.

When they were there last, the party had discovered a secret means of entering the lower chambers of the school, that actual place where most of the experiments and surgeries took place.  From below the bridge near the river’s mouth there was an entrance that led up to the bowels of the college.  There, wading through fetid water filled with debris, refuse, and the bodies of the deceased, the adventurers wormed their way into the college.

Inside the enclosed sewer, the smell had redoubled and the sight of the dead was too much to bear.  Corpses bloated from the long periods underwater were everywhere.  The maggots and worms that burrowed there way out through the soft flesh of the eyes and mouth were waving out as the party pushed their way through.  Lerif, Kalam, and Allynaria were made very sick.

Finally, up ahead there was a clearing in the putrid water.  The three ill party members rushed forward, desperate for some release from the smell and disgust of their current surroundings.  Only Willbrand had the presence of mind to look carefully ahead.  The water was clear, but had a shimmer on its surface as if something oily were resting on top.  It was not until his fellows entered the water that he realized why the way ahead was clear of corpses and debris; the water was full of living ooze.

Tendrils came up to burn and pull at the heroes already unfortunate enough to be in the midst of them.  Lerif and Kalam fought back at the slime to no avail, the slime would just burn their skin with each strike.  Willbrand threw a rope around Allynaria and attempted to pull her to safety.

They struggled to swim free, but the water was too thick with the beasts, which now stretched out for many yards all around them.  Willbrand and Allynaria worked the rope around a cross beam high above in the ceiling of the sewer, giving the rest of the party a rope to which they could climb out of harm’s way.  The weight of his party was too much for young Willbrand, and he felt himself being pulled up into the air.  Luck was with them all, as something held his foot fast, but unfortunately for Will, that something was a giant black tentacle.

A mad climb managed to rescue Lerif, Kalam, and Allynaria from the acidic grip of the jellies, but only because Willbrand refused to strike off the tentacle that had weighed down his leg.  It was not until they were out of the grip of the ooze that Will realized that the tentacle was nothing more then a spare part leftover from Lucian’s experiments.  It was simply a fortunately located piece of dead weight.  Kicking the tentacle off, it fell to the oozes below which promptly devoured the thing in seconds.

From the crossbeams, the adventures made the slow climb across the rest of the room until they reached the opening to the college.  There, they entered carefully, making sure to be as quite as they could.  With defenses such as the broken bridge and the sea of oozes, it was possible that something could have survived in the dreaded hospital.

The lower levels of the school were much as they had left it a year ago.  White marble gracefully placed throughout the halls and rooms, large empty amphitheaters for the study of human and animal dissections, rooms that served as cold storage for spare parts.  Besides a few cracks in the ceiling from the attacks that struck the upper office level of the school, this place was rather intact.

When searching, they discovered a series of closets that were used to store equipment.  In one, a menacing shadow was discovered.  Something long and black and curved lay hiding in the closet, waiting to be discovered.  Carefully, with weapons drawn, the party threw open the doors and investigated.

Inside was a black leather mask, shaped like a bird’s head.

The mask was identical to those found on the skeletons that were strung up on crosses throughout Four Points.  Further research revealed even more masks in other closets as well as various other pieces of equipment.  In one of the long marble halls, a giant mural depicted a scene of students examining an autopsy performed in an operating theater.  The teacher in the mural was orating while gesturing to the dismembered corpse on the table before him; to his left stood a figure dressed in a surgical gown and wearing the black bird mask.

Their blood thoroughly chilled, they reviewed what they had found thus far.

Lucian had taken people back to his lands, presumably by force.  In any place his people were found there had been the signs of conflict, and various crosses were left marking the territory.  The college was in ruins, and apparently the source of the bird masked men found on all these crosses, complete with pins and needles imbedded in them similar to those found in the bugbear rescued from Lucian’s torture.  These things were somehow related, but the pattern was not yet clear.

***

After further thought, the party decided to continue on exploring the lower levels of the school.  As they passed the doorway to the upper sections of the school, they forced a particularly heavy door open and heard a loud screech come from somewhere upstairs.  Readying themselves, they snuck up the winding stairway to check to see if they had any unwanted company.

The upper levels of the school were a completely different story.  Devastated by the attacks that never reached the sections below, the offices, main halls, and public faced of the school were wrecked.  Climbing up creeping staircases, the adventures began to hear the faintest rhythmic scrape, and were startled by another loud screech.  Apparently, a large chandelier had been dislodged by the attacks and would screech loudly whenever the wind blew.  That mystery behind them, they continued up the stairs to investigate the scraping noise.

With every step, it got louder.  They could hear in it their teeth.

Scrape

It was a familiar sound, but they could not place it.

Scrape scrape scrape

All at once, each of them remembered a similar silent creep.  The sound of a small saw working on finger bones in an ancient web-filled lair haunted their memories.

Scrape

But this… thankfully, was different.  Or so they hoped.

Scrape scrape

On the second floor of the school, long hallways separated sleeping quarters and offices.  The roof was partially caved in, and moonlight filled the open spaces.  Willbrand used the mirror blade of his dagger to peer around a corner, where he saw light coming from a door left ajar.  Kalam sent in his serpent familiar Rook, but the snake returned claiming the room was dark and empty.  Bracing themselves, the four heroes barged into the door with weapons raised.

Inside the small private room, a man sat writing feverishly at a desk by lantern light.  His back was to them, and as the door opened he turned and made an expression as if he were trying to listen.  It was as if he were blind, for he never made eye contact with the intruders.  Instead, he returned his attention to his writing.  The man was dressed and groomed in a manner similar to the clerks that had populated the school last year.  He seemed alarmed by something going on outside his window.  Willbrand peered out only to see what appeared to be dawn already upon them, and the lights of what he could swear was military activity outside.  Allynaria snuck up to the desk and read what the man was writing.

“Lucian has sent more agents into the far reaches of the lands, searching tirelessly for the components he has deemed necessary for our survival.  No more weapons or soldiers are being amassed.  The food is running short, but we are told to continue long hours of research.  I now fear that it is only a matter of time until Ashen, Theious, or whomever it is that now threatens our once great school, will destroy us all.  I curse the day I came here.”

As the man completed his final entry, he closed the book and began to pack his meager belongings.  He blew out his lantern and began to leave.  Kalam and Lerif stood in his way, attempting to bar his exit.  The man made no eye contact with any of them, instead walking straight at the door.  Before the party could react, the room was torn asunder by a boulder that was catapulted through the window.  The man was struck dead and the adventures were knocked off their feet.

It wasn’t until they had rushed about in a panic that they realized what had actually happened.  Allynaria had run to retrieve the book, Willbrand and Kalam grabbed the belongings that the man had dropped, and Lerif went to pull the clerk out.  Suddenly, Ally looked down into the aged pages in her hand, and Will and Kalam noticed that the bags had long been ruined.  The body of the scribe who had seemed alive mere seconds ago showed signs of being long dead.

What they were witnessing was the last few seconds of that scribe’s life, being endlessly replayed by his specter.  This explained why the man didn’t react to their entrance, for a blind scribe would have no use for the light of a lantern.  In an instant the scene began to again replay itself from beginning to end.  Despite this ghostly play, the room was actually as void and lifeless as any other in this abandoned citadel of learning.  Rook had said that the room was empty.

***

Allynaria began to explore the building while Lerif and Willbrand began to prepare the corpse for burial.  Ally had returned with several books for the others to read, but one she kept hidden for herself.  It had made mention of Kalam’s visit to the hospital a year ago, and her curiosity over the normally reserved Kalam had only grown in the past few months.  She reasoned that she would allow him to look at it in time, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t harm him.  What she didn’t realize was that Kalam was not entirely convinced she wasn’t hiding something from him.

After laying the remains to rest, they continued to explore the upper levels of the school.  There they discovered several key things.  First, they learned that the masks that had haunted them since reentering Four Points were tools used by doctors to examine the scent of certain wounds, to protect them when entering contaminated areas, or to enhance their nature olfactory senses for purposes of diagnosis.  They also found that as Lucian began to loose his power after the defeat of the Vampire Lord a year ago he had resorted to strange acts to retain his foothold.  He had sent several agents out into neighboring lands, conquering them for men, power, and subjects.  He had also incurred the wrath of some of the more powerful lords, and had spent the last few months slowly loosing ground to them.  So, the men on the crosses that were marked by the ancient alphabet like the one used on Ashen’s maps were likely warnings to those that supported the deposed master.  In his last days locked away in his keep, Lucian sent mercenaries out to retrieve esoteric ingredients while his students labored away in the school, rather then surrendering or seeking a means of escape.  To pay for these mercenaries, he offered them several favors of an undocumented variety.

To the party, everything became clear.  Without the influence of the Vampire Lord, all the lords of Four Points were at war once again, this time desperately trying to retain the power they had gained why the vassals of the undead prince.  It was all so sadly simple.

The party’s personal stake in all this was also clear.  Lucian may not have been the one to order the strange assassins to attack the heroes, their friends, and their family – but he was the one that gave those special gifts to enable the enemy to do so.  The patch-work cultists that were attacking the heroes were obviously the byproducts of mercenaries that had whored out their services to a mad doctor offering surgery in exchange for errands.

What wasn’t clear was what the errands were for, or where the mercenaries had come from.  Apparently, Lucian spent the last few days of the assault hauled up in his private study downstairs.  Partly out of curiosity over Lucian’s final state, and party out of a need to find more information on the people who were now hunting them down – the party decided to rest for the night and then finish their exploration of the college.

Trying to sleep in the college was pointless, their minds were filled with horrid dreams of spiders and fire and death.  They instead decided to leave the school, rest for the night, and return refreshed to face whatever remained of Lucian the next day.

***

That night they spent held up in a tobacconist shop in the city.  They had just begun to rest when an old friend paid them a visit.

It was Tallfeather, the old halfling leader of the thieves’ guild known as the Red Eyes.  The Red Eyes had helped the party once before, and it was good to see the old bastard again.  With the braided hair of his feet resting comfortably in a big stuffed chair, he casually told them that they would be safe to rest here for the night and that if they were going to keep exploring, that they may find something interesting he had left behind.  Then, quite suddenly, he vanished as if he were never there.

With the morning sun and the unwarranted valor it tends to bring, the party gathered itself together and reentered the broken school.

Making there way back down to the lower levels, they made a direct route to the back entrance to where they knew Lucian’s office lay.  Through an operating theater still rotting with the smell of an exposed cadaver, through rooms upon rooms full of strange chemicals and stranger surgical devices, through a ice cold room that served as a storage chest for spare animal parts, they worked their way closer to the master.

Allynaria had been there before.  She knew that behind a cooler-room there was a back door to Lucian’s office.  The party entered the cold room to find dozens of corpses on meat hooks hanging from the ceiling.  There were many extra parts attached to these things, and walking through the room was like witnessing an unholy diagram on how these monsters were created.  The heroes shuddered to think that these were the things that they would soon have to face.

Approaching the heavy stone door that separated this room from Lucian’s study, the party took their position.  They entered carefully, and were shocked at what they saw.  The first thing to hit them was the chemical smell that permeated the room, like that of ammonia heavy in the air.  The room itself was enormous, two levels high and several yards across and deep.  On the top level was the library, only now it was filled with piles of darkened spider webs that had clearly been gathered at the site of where the vampire lair once stood.  Surely this was part of what the mercenaries were hired to collect.  The first floor housed an office space off to the left, befitting a man that was master of such a powerful domain.  To the right was a vast lab space, with simple stone floors and heavy stone tables.

Entering carefully, they explored their surroundings.  The lab featured a stone table that had been shattered by some enormous force, with broken chains all about the floor.  The study had feverish notes written all about the slate boards and walls, detailing a chemical equation that was maddening to look upon.  In the drawings one thing stood clear; the outline of a man with a vertical line bisecting him, one side labeled with the alchemical symbol for “life” or physicality and the other side with the symbol for “spirit” or everlasting source.

It was clear that Lucian was experimenting with becoming immortal, with keeping his essence alive and powerful past the loss of his life.  What was about to be revealed was just how far the mad master had come in this quest…

From deep in the back of the lab a monster loomed its hideous form.  It stood ten feet tall, and was a membranous sack of alchemical slime.  It had a roughly human shape, but was distorted beyond almost all recognition.  It reeked of chemicals.  Only its face retained any true form, and still the thing had no true eyes or mouth to show the world.  From somewhere inside this now mindless thing, Lucian somehow peered out.

The beast was upon them in a flurry.  Acid belched out of its mouth and when injured, it bled chemical fire.  Each touch either delivered to it or taken from it caused searing pain.  Escape was the only choice, so the party slowly began their retreat, Lerif risking all to trip the beast before running.  As they tried to flee, a strange movement drew their eyes to the webs stored haphazardly above them.  The vague form of a huge man, made all of spider webs, came running down the walls.  It seemed that they had located the other half of Lucian’s abortion of an experiment.

Slamming the doors behind them they fled the school, escaping with badly injured bodies into the city.  When they finally decided to stop and rest they took careful watch, especially in the direction of the school, terrified that the beasts may have been released.  Eventually, pain and exhaustion overtook them, and Allynaria who was least injured watched over her companions as they struggled to rest.

***

Allynaria went scouting for food and medicine when her Elven eyes happened upon a secret door in the wall of a pub.  Exploring this elaborately hidden door, she discovered a secret room filled with glass jars.  Hoping she had discovered some healing potions, she brought her friends back with her to further investigate.  They found that all the glasses seemed empty, and could not determine their purpose.  Confident at least that this room would be a safe place to hide as they regained their strength, they bedded down.

On the wall, carved in fancy and delightful script, were the following words…

Rest Ye Weary King of Thieves, and Triumph in Your Glories

That night, they all slept deep, dreaming dreams that did not seem to belong to them…

Godhead

Episode 3: Beast Within        --          September 21, 2005

Willbrand stared down into eyes completely alien to him, as something… other peered out of the body that once belonged to his elf friend Allynaria.  His arm was frozen in place with the syringe of potion gripped firmly in his fist, hanging over Allynaria’s chest.  The elf’s mouth gaped open revealing her excruciating agony and the razor sharp incisors peeking above ruby lips.  Will’s blood held like ice, but instinct brought his fist down, delivering its payload of poison directly into the heart of what was once a valued friend.

Instead of a scream, she gave a heavy sigh, and passed away into sleep.

In panic, Lerif and Kalam rushed back to the camp site expecting to find their two comrades in the throws of the great change that would turn them into moon-sick monsters.  When they arrived, they saw Will standing over Ally’s still body, having just impaled her with one of his poisoned needles.  The tension was palpable as the newcomers took a defensive stance and demanded an explanation.

Willbrand quickly explained that he was readying a dose of antitoxin when he noticed Allynaria had fangs, and instinctively stabbed her in fear.  Lerif and Kalam examined Ally, finding her alive but sleeping.  Somehow the fates intervened and the nervous Willbrand had accidentally pulled deadly belladonna instead of antitoxin from his bag.  Belladonna is a dangerous poison, but as dwarves and wives-tales tell, can also act to cure moon madness if administered quickly enough.  An act that could have killed Allynaria ended up saving her.

Willbrand, of course, took sole credit for the happy accident.

Suddenly death shot from the tree line, as a heavy arrow ripped into the dwarf’s arm, and the sounds of many other bow shots rang out.  An ambush had taken them by surprise as they were busy treating their friend.

For some reason, only one arrow ever seemed to hit its mark, despite the sound of many shots coming from nearby treetops.  Either these ambushers were amateurs, or they had stumbled upon some unwanted company as they stalked the party.  Before the assassins could rally themselves, Lerif, Kalam, and Willbrand gave fight.  Kalam’s curses tripped up the enemy while Lerif leapt into the treetops to bring the agents down one by one.

After much battle and confusion, one of the assassins was felled as the rest escaped.  In the tree tops where their enemy hid, they discovered that an old friend had come to their rescue, the halfling Rhodi.  It was his quick thinking that had revealed the ambush to his fellows.

Rhodi had left Four Points weeks earlier, after running into black clad men that had attacked his family.  Rhodi had rescued his mother from bondage in the land of Duke Darius a year ago when the battle at Four Points had created enough turmoil throughout the countryside to weaken the lord’s grip.  He stole her away at night, and escaped back to his family’s old farm, expecting to settle down and keep a low profile in order to evade the Duke’s men.  Months had passed, and Rhodi was certain that the Duke had finally become terminally busy with other projects, like keeping his lands out of the hands of other lords.  One night, when Rhodi was contemplating returning to the city to see about joining the thieves’ guild known as the Red Eyes, he heard the sounds of heavy horse around his farm house.  In a flash, he and his mother were taken by strange men that reeked of animal musk.  By some miracle, Rhodi managed to call for help and was able to free himself and his mother before it was too late.  The kidnappers all escaped save one, who raved like a mad man before taking his own life.  Rhodi needed help, so he left his mother in a safe house and ventured out of Four Points once again, this time looking for heroes to help him in his cause.

It was on the road that he spotted the masked men that were stalking an old friend Willbrand and his group of adventures that Rhodi was familiar with.  It was Rhodi’s quick actions that tripped the ambush and allowed Lerif, Kalam, and the others to fight back instead of being slaughtered in the night.

Happy to be together again and safe (at least, for the time being), the party arranged themselves into watches and took care to care over Allynaria as she slept.

***

Allynaria’s fever broke in a few hours, and not wanting to waste any time in the open, the others woke her.  She was disorientated, nauseous, and frightened.  In her sleep, she dreamt of the Elven Homeland, and how the great Ivory Tower fell and crushed all she had knew and loved.

The insect bite on Allynaria and Willbrand had not entirely healed, and it was decided that one of their prime goals would be to search out a cleric once at Four Points, to purify the injuries should they be somehow cursed.  Their first order of business, however, was to examine the body of the assassin they had killed.

The man was slight, probably human, and clad all in black studded leather.  His hands and face were covered in animal skins; belonging to a beast with short black fur.  The mask and gloves seemed as if they were form-fitted, and as they tried to pull back these “costumes” the party was horrified to see that it peeled off as if an extra layer of flesh.  Connective tissue and stale blood snapped back as the face and hands were examined.  The patches of fur were defiantly sewn together with heaving stitching and cord; they were not naturally grown on the flesh of the assassin but rather sewn onto his flesh and meat.  The man’s underlying muscle structure looked more human then animal – but he had no skin of his own.  On the back of his clawed hand was the mark of a brand or tattoo, made illegible thanks to a sever injury he had received in the battle.  The creature was an unholy abomination that should have never lived.  They were glad it was now dead.

Rather then rest and risk another attack, they decided to push on all day and night until they found a safe spot.  They lit a fire with green wood to smoke out the flies and left camp, riding hard for a full day.  That night, they slept with Allynaria and Willbrand tied up, and watched them both carefully in fear.  Nothing happened, but for the next few weeks the party was on its toes.

***

Eventually, the heroes came across a band of wagons off on the plains towards the west.  Approaching, they found several families trying to immigrate back to Four Points after having lived in exile in the Empire for decades.  They had left their homeland when dukes began infighting and started lives as fur-traders and merchants in the Empire.  Years later, Four Points has become open for development and the Empire’s recent truce with the Halflings has made fur-trapping a dangerous market.  Walter, the wagon master and patriarch felt it was finally time to come home.

The party agreed to serve as scouts for the pilgrims in exchange for company and food, so they continued on their way together towards Four Points.

The pilgrims were surprised to see a dwarf and an elf riding together.  Allynaria endeared herself to many of the pilgrims by braiding the hair of the girls of the caravan, lacing in colored string, flowers, and the delicate vines of morning glories.  The girls were impressed with this Elven mistress, and the boys were equally taken with Lerif the bald dwarf.  Lerif performed many feats of acrobatics and skill, producing several imitational acts for the boys to later practice.  Kalam had long talks with the old fur-trader that lead the wagon train, asking questions about the nature of the patch of fur Kalam had retrieved from the body of the assassin weeks ago.  Walter said he believed it may have belonged to some exotic beast, perhaps a giant cat, but he had never seen its exact nature before.  The rest of the nights were spent wiling away playing games and telling tales with Willbrand and Rhodi, who it seemed were both equally gifted at cheating at cards.  Kalam began feeling “wistful” for the caravan he grew up in, and dreamt of the desert known as the Great Wastes, a land he once called home.  The time with the caravan was mostly non-eventful, but the growing tensions between elves and the humans of the north that once shared a border with the Elven Nation were made apparent, as one pilgrim from those parts grew to loathe the presence of Allynaria…

When chatting with the caravan members, talking about their histories at Four Points and the Empire, one man stood apart from the others, showing more distrust then the others.  He never gave his name, but claimed he came from up north, and had been forced to meek out an existence in the Empire when exiled from his homeland.  It seems his country had once shared a border with the Elves, and when the Tower fell and the Elves were left without a home, they ventured out into the lands of others.  The lofty ideals of Allynaria, an elf that claims that all races, even goblinoids, are equal did not convince this stranger of the benevolence of the Fair Ones.

Whether fleeing from the wars of men, the exile of elves, the attacks of ogres, or the competition from halflings – all these villagers knew was endless travel and exhaustion.  All they wanted was a home.

***

As they approached Four Points, they came across a thin strip of woodland they would have to cross.  It was small and beautiful, home to crowded foliage and beautiful blue butterflies.  To make room for the wagons, they began to clear a modest path through the woods, working all day to cut a few acres in, and then resting for the night to finish the job the next day.

During the night, after hours of sleep, the entire caravan was jostled awake by the sound of a loud crash.  They had camped well outside the forest at dusk, but when they awoke only a few hours later, the forest had grown all around them for several yards, with thick growth that would have taken years naturally.  The horses and other animals were pinned inside, the wagons were caught up in tree tops, and the people were panicking.

The party and the rest of the caravan began to clear some growth to get the animals and the people out, setting up tents well outside the forest while they worked.  After an exhausting night, they all decided to rest but to keep careful watch on the edge of the woods, to see if it would grow again.  Devastatingly, the wagons and much of the belongings of the pilgrims still hung in the treetops or were pinned between trucks of the unnaturally large vegetation.  If they couldn’t get their belongings down, they would be helpless and unable to start new lives.

As dawn slowly approached, the sounds of crashing again came from the forest.  Some barrels and wagons began to fall as the tress and plants around the spots where the animals were freed began to grow in to fill the gaps, and the forest again stretched out of its marked boundaries.  Before their astonished eyes, the forest crept out and inched its way closer to their tents and livestock.  It was as if the woods had become possessed; trees, vines, and brush forced themselves out of the ground violently as new vegetation pushed its way ever closer to the frightened pilgrims.

Refusing to simply give up and flee, Willbrand entered the woods with Allynaria to examine the situation.  There Allynaria spotted a beautiful blue light from deep inside the growing forest.  Willbrand left to get the others, as Allynaria found herself drawn deeper into the newly formed glen.

The others raced in to find her.  She left a rope behind, but as the forest continued to grow the end of the rope left for her party got caught into an ever heightening tree top.  Lerif and Kalam helped Rhodi and Willbrand up, and they risked their necks climbing the twisting tree.  Like a sailor in the rigs of a ship, Will reclaimed the rope and dropped it down, and they followed it into the forest where they saw Allynaria bathed in an unearthly glow.  Her hair was twisted by a strange breeze, and the forest closed in tightly around them all.  Before their dazzled eyes stood a column of beautiful blue butterflies circling about in a flurry.  It was a whirlwind of beauty and terror.

Leaves and butterfly wings swirled about and rained down upon the adventurers, and Allynaria in particular was taken aback by the sheer awesomeness of this thunderstorm of fairy light.  The column of butterflies seethed and spun, as the heroes questioned their next move.  Allynaria wanted to try to speak to the whirlwind, to beseech it and beg forgiveness from the forest spirit.  The others were not so convinced, but faced with such uncertainty; they bowed to the elf and her age.  She fell to her knees.

“Forest, please hear our cry!”

As Allynaria made her prayer in the ancient tongue of the Elves, the blue butterflies swarmed about in ever widening circles.  The others drew their weapons but had no idea what to do even if given a chance.

The column of blue light began to split and from deep inside an enchanting beauty began to emerge.  She was fair of skin and complexion, almost appearing silver in tone.  Her elegant face and frame stepped down to meet Allynaria, and she spoke in the Sylvain voice of the woods to her elf visitor.  Somehow, Allynaria understood her every word.

“Elf friend, it has been a long age since we saw your kind here.  Welcome.”

Allynaria was shocked to understand these strange words, and quickly formed her response in Elven.

“We are sorry for entering your homeland, and cutting your trees.  We had not known-“

“You are the ones that have pruned back the Wood?”

Allynaria swallowed hard.  “Yes, we were.”

“Then we give you our thanks.”

In shock, Ally almost lost her head and began speaking in common.  She corrected herself and spoke again in Elven.

“We wished only to pass safely through your land with our caravan.  If you’d like us to stay and work the forest-“

“No, there are other spirits that care for these lands.  We thank you for the aid you have already given.  Please be free to travel through at our honor.  Be well, forest-friend.”

And with that, the butterflies flew away, and the forest parted down the middle, lowering the wagons and making a clear path to the other sign.  Morning quickly broke as the men and women of the caravan hurried through the woods to be greeted with a bounty of fruits and nuts on the other end.  They had passed a great ordeal, and had made a friend in the process.  The site of the elf maiden and her brave protectors left a lasting impression of the pilgrims, one that would be carried with them always.

Once on the other side of the forest, Allynaria reached up for the sweetest apple she could find and made a gift of it to the strange human that had so little trust for elves weeks before.  His words were simple, “You have proven yourself this day, but one day’s good deed does not abolish a lifetime of sin, for you or your people.”  Some victories are harder to reach then others.

***

Hard traveling and a joyous feast had led them at last to the border lands of Four Points.  They saw before them the vast farmlands of one of the many lords that ruled the lands that made up this countryside.  From here on, the paths would be clearly marked, and the only danger would be from bands of men sent out to keep the territories of each lord clear and well drawn.  The pilgrims hoped that once they understood the current status of the political situation at Four Points, they would work the fields and earn their keep under the kindest lord they could find.  Hopes were even high that they might find some land that was safe enough and free enough that they could live as honest men and women in charge of their own destinies at last, independent of any lord’s rule.

The farms they crossed at the edge of the countryside were showing clear signs of disuse.  The crops had gone to seed and wild grasses grew high above their heads.  The fields were empty of hands to work them.  The pilgrims were inspired by this site; less competition meant that they would undoubtedly have a place to work and call home.  But the party was less then confident.  The last time they saw so much unused farmland, it was the result of a disaster that left that village tainted.  Fear of darkness and undeath crept into the seasoned adventurers’ hearts, irrational as it may have seemed.

Then they spied something that solidified all their fears.

On the road ahead was a scarecrow on a cross.  Riding up to investigate, the party found what was clearly a warning sign driven into the path before them.  The stench was thick in the air, and remained with them in the back of their mouths as they examined the scarecrow.  The figure was made from the cleaned skeleton of a man dressed in black bands and wearing a leather mask in the shape of a birds head.  The bones were bolted to the wooden frame.  The vertebrae of the spine were all fused together with metal wire.  The mask itself, while simple, was also fearsome and inhuman.  The holes that represented the scarecrow’s eyes seemed to stare at them wherever they moved.

Under its body, carved into the wood of the crossbeams were letters in the form of that ancient human language the party had seen once before.  This language was meant for humans, but based on the alphabet of a dwarven influence.  They had first seen it one year ago in the ancient scrolls found in the offices of Lord Aschen during the campaign for the haven of the vampire.  All they knew is that the language came from early in the history of Four Points.

Despite the clear intention of the markings, they could not read the literal words, if that was indeed what they were.  Determined not to frighten the pilgrims more then necessary, it was decided that they would ride back and try to find another path.  Suddenly, Rhodi and the others realized an important and overseen fact; the body on the crossbeams was clean and without flesh, and was not in a state of rot, but there was a strong stench in the air they had noticed since they first approached.  If it wasn’t rot that they smelled, then what was it?

Just then the high grasses of the field they were in gave forth the furious form of an enormous bugbear, scarred and pierced with heavy metal pins and needles, and cuffed with broken chains about its wrists.

The beast struck out at them and they fought back as best they could.  The creature was enraged and empowered by some otherworldly strength.  Throw by throw, fist by fist, the beast kept charging and the adventures kept trying to wear it down – to no avail.

Suddenly Rhodi the halfling popped up beside the monster and managed to wedge out one of the pins piercing the beast’s side.  A momentary pause struck them all as the heroes waited to see the effect this would have and the Bugbear was shocked by the release from pain.  Eventually, the monster did swing again, but it was clear now that his heart wasn’t in fighting, and that the thing just wanted to be left alone.  Fearing the effect of loosing this beast, the heroes did not give up.  Allynaria moved to remove more pins and probes, and Rhodi got some more.  Even Kalam managed to force one of the cruel needles out.  The Bugbear seemed confused by their acts of kindness, and wasn’t sure of what to make of any of this, when the actions of the pilgrims up the road nearly jeopardized all that the heroes had tried to do.

The pilgrims had assembled their meager arrows and loosed a volley against the Bugbear, and it was by sheer chance that neither the creature nor the heroes were injured.  Kalam demanded they cease fire, and Allynaria tried to ease the beast’s tension in an attempt to discover what had happened to it.

The beast did not answer Allynaria, but instead growled and hissed, revealing that its tongue was wired into a series of metal braces fastened around its teeth.  To the horror of the pilgrims, the heroes managed to calm the Bugbear long enough so that Ally could approach.  With great patience and bravery, she put her hands into the beast’s mouth and disabled the snare that held his tongue in a bloody vice.  Amazingly, she was able to retrieve her hands intact from the beast, a testament to the Bugbear’s resolve considering how much pain the creature had to endure as his soft tongue was pulled free of its wire prison.

The Bugbear turned and spit a pool of blood, and growled its gratitude and debt to them before sulking away.  When asked who had done this to him, he turned and answered simply, “Men” before leaving.

From the assassin with the animal flesh mask, to the skeleton scarecrow, to the bugbear with obvious marks of surgical torture, the adventurers thought that they saw the hand of Master Lucian, an old nemesis.  Lucian was a lord of some territory in Four Points, known for its wealth, its advances in medicine and a school for its instruction, and for the unusual appearance of the elite who appeared cosmetically enhanced.  The party had seen evidence that Lucian was experimenting on the dead, but had hoped that upon the defeat of the vampire lord one year ago, that Lucian’s powers would have waned.  It seemed as though said hopes were sadly misplaced.

Knowing it was too risky to travel further with innocents pilgrims, they sent the families away to Rhodi’s safe house while the heroes went on further ahead, trying to unravel the mystery of this land.

***

Before leaving this territory and furthering their investigations, the party went to the mansion of Duke Darius, the lord last known to rule these parts.  There they found an abandoned village and a mansion that was ruined by a military attack.  Rhodi did not mourn as he saw the smoking ruins of his former master’s estate, but all the heroes wondered aloud at where all the people had gone.  Willbrand found some scrolls and ledgers in the mansion, and Rhodi liberated enough gold from the Duke’s hidden treasure room to return every silver he had sent to pay the ransom on his mother’s life for years.  With his dues finally returned to him, the halfling left to return to the safe house to see to the safety of his mother and the pilgrims.

The others examined the site one last time, finding yet another scarecrow of similar design to one at the edge of the road.  The unknown words carved into the wood haunted the adventures as they noticed the tread of a hundred human footprints in the dirt, as if they were marched off of this land as prisoners, slaves, or perhaps even… cattle.

Godhead

Episode 2: Loose Ends          --          September 16, 2005

A hand pushes through soft earth until it finds itself in an empty space – a dark cavern like a shallow grave.  Another hand joins it as does the end of a sword, and soon the pit is opened up to the outside world.  Sunlight streams in, and one can hear the sounds of people hurrying about outside.  A rope ladder is tossed down, and a sly elf and a scoundrel come climbing into the tomb. 

Allynaria and Willbrand had run with each other since shortly after the battle was won at Four Points a year earlier.  The two seemed to unexpectedly hit it off, as both were interested in leaving the war behind and making a profit with their skills as they did so.  They looked out for each other, and more importantly, looked out for an easy mark when they could find it.  Treasure hunting was a lucrative pastime, and as there were plenty of sources of lost fortunes as a result of one monster or another, there was always enough to keep them in food and shelter.  Allynaria was saving up for a trip to the Elven Homeland and hence her past.  Will was just trying to keep the heat off; perhaps even long enough to sneak back home to visit his family.

They had received word that some local creature had been attacking people on the roads for years, and possibly burying their possessions nearby.  It didn’t take much sleuthing to find a possible location for the horde.

This cavern under the earth was tight and small, but a decently large creature could easily have called it home.  The two rogues kept their wits about them while they examined the site.  What seemed as if an idol was planted in the far end of the cavern, and there was the remains of what appeared to be a ritual on the ground.  Suddenly Allynaria realized that they were about to fall into a collapsing sand trap, and only just managed to escape with Willbrand alive.

After they caught their breath, the two friends talked about what had happened.  It was clear to them that only someone that knew that they were together and that knew their patterns of behavior could have set them up so perfectly for that trap.  They feared they knew who could have been responsible.  To be certain, they decided to speak with any of their former comrades as they could find, trying to compare notes and warn them of possible danger.  But of all their former party members, it was only Lerif the dwarf whose location was known.

Lerif had fulfilled his promise and guided both the precious metal he had been leant and his young ward Arista back to the lands of Dunnadell, the City of Steel, and the Priestesses of the Forge.  The metal had been invaluable in the forging of a weapon to vanquish the foul vampire that haunted Four Points, and as per his solemn oath, the dwarf had returned to the priestesses what he had borrowed.  Allynaria and Willbrand were reasonably sure they could still find the dwarf nearby.

After the long journey to Dunnadell, Allynaria was allowed in to see Lerif in the midst of his meditation cycle at the temple.  Being male, Will was left outside where he promptly made an ass of himself to the temple priestess.  To save his old friends from any unneeded head-bashing, Lerif took them both outside the temple and into the city.  There, he told them what he knew of the whereabouts of the old party.

It had been over a year since the end of the conflict at Four Points, and few of the heroes had seen each other since parting ways. 

Rhodi had left to take up a life of grave robbing, or “treasure hunting” as he preferred to call it.  He had traveled with Strikeland for awhile, but the two parted company when the half-elf left to find his brother – and murder him.

Having had enough with a life of adventures, Arista simply disappeared one night after speaking fondly of home.  With no one else to worry about, Lerif begged and was granted permission to commune with his lord at the temple in Dunnadell.  There, he took a vow of poverty, and lost himself to meditation.

Until the day Kalam came knocking on his temple door.

Kalam had spent some time in the bars and courts of the great Empire, and had overheard talk about a mad elf that survived the war at Four Points and was now seeking or in possession of a magical artifact that could grant godhood.  He thought it was Llenell that the rumors spoke of, and that if even half true, that there may be a grand fortune in store for the heroes that take him down and retrieve that treasure.

Lerif was less then enthused.  He explained that he had took a vow of poverty, that he had surrendered any joy of possession that physical objects could grant, and that he was not interested in a treasure hunt.  Disgusted and confused, Kalam returned to the Empire where stiff drinks and sane (read: selfish) company eased his mind.

While the three old comrades were caught up, they began to notice a caravan of travelers coming from down the road.  They were in a weathered moss-heavy wagon that seemed to have seen a hundred years, and were pulled by horses that went unbroken and unshod.  At once Allynaria, Will, and Lerif began to think of Woodhaven, the local druidic forest and home to an old friend of theirs, the priestess Elena.  They ran to the caravan and noticed that the people were gravely ill.  Apparently they had been poisoned on their way to the holy wood in some sort of ambush.  Allynaria was convinced that this was an attack meant for their former companion, and that Elena was in danger.  The others were not convinced until an explosion woke them out from their complacency.

It came from deep within Dunnadell, and as the people began to scream and run away in terror, the brave heroes ran forward.  The explosion came from the temple, where the stone wall of a room had collapsed inwards crushing the space below.  It was the very room Lerif would have been in, had he remained and not ushered his friends away.

Now convinced that they were targeted, the three heroes decided to leave under cover of darkness and travel to the Empire to find Kalam.  Unable to help Dunnadell or Woodhaven, they felt it best to lead the danger away with them.

***

After a long journey, they made it to the grand streets and walled cities that made up the great Empire.  Willbrand was practically a native, so he led his awestruck companions in the search for Kalam, finally narrowing it down to the “Stoned Pony” tavern.  There, they found Kalam deep in drink and restlessness.

They caught Kalam up to what was happening, and he too was concerned that someone from their past was trying to murder them.  With strange company from inside the tavern, they all decided to leave together and find an inn to hold up for the night.

That night, as they discussed what they would do, a knock came at the door.  It was the desk clerk with a delivery for Kalam.  Almost absentmindedly, the clerk was told that Kalam had not ordered anything, and was promptly sent away.  It was then that they realized that no one could have known Kalam was there, unless they were being followed.

Rushing downstairs, the party caught the desk clerk just as he was about to take another drink from a bottle at his side.  When asked what he was doing, the clerk demanded that Kalam said he could have it, and then promptly began to choke.  Will induced vomiting and Ally went to call for a healer, when Kalam and Lerif noticed that the bottle had come from a packaged addressed to Kalam with no listed sender.

After taking the clerk to a medical man, they were told that he was poisoned.  Will checked the bottle, and low and behold it had deadly nightshade in it.  Now it seemed that Kalam too was being targeted.

After making some quick money, they party won a team of horses and set off to Four Points, hoping to find the source of their troubles.

***

After a week on the road, the party had a hard days ride on bad terrain, and only had the chance to make camp late at night.  As they finally began to unwind from the days ride, they began to notice the smell of something foul in the air.  Flies began to buzz about them, and out of sheer curiosity, they took a torch to examine the smell.

Only a few yards up road, they noticed the smell got significantly worse.  At the side of the road they noticed a dozen or so corpses, animal ones, which were killed and mutilated without any intention of food or ritual.  The bodies were simply discarded here and there, and had been attracting a great number of flies.

After feeling a bit woozy, Ally and Will went back to the camp and Kalam and Lerif were quick to follow.  They decided to investigate the dumping ground when the sun was with them.  By the time they had made it back, the smell had died down and they decided to rest and leave as soon as possible.  Ally didn’t feel that ill, but something told the others that they instead of her would share watch duties, allowing the elf some much needed rest.

By the time it was Kalam’s turn for watch, he was already miserable.  When he sat wondering why the elf who didn’t need to sleep anyway was taking it easy, he realized that she was turning in her sleep, seemingly ill.  He began to wonder if this had not been the plan of some assailant all the while.  Allynaria was the usual watch.  Making her ill may have been meant as a means to sneak up on the rest of the party.   He slowly began listening for trespassers while surreptitiously waking the rest of the group.

Suddenly there was the sound of someone running through the woods.  Clearly someone was there, but as Kalam and Lerif ran to investigate they lost the spy.  Will remained with Ally who was clearly getting worse in her sleep.  A careful examination by her allies revealed a bug bite on her neck, and a similar bite under the ear of Willbrand.  Alarmed, Kalam and Lerif went to investigate the field with the flies and corpses by torchlight, burning wet rags to smoke the flies away from them.  Will remained with Allynaria, preparing to treat her wounds if they got worse.

***

As Kalam took watch, Lerif began to look at the animal corpses on the ground.  There were clear markings that someone had tried to move the bodies away during the night as the party slept, and Kalam noticed that they were apparently being followed for awhile, but that whoever was there was long gone by now.

***

At the campsite, Willbrand watched in relief as Allynaria’s fever began to cool down.

***

Lerif grabbed hold of a metal pike inside the broken mouth of one of the beasts and lifted it off the ground.  The beast had been split open, but nothing was taken away.  It was left to rot.

Kalam noticed that the flies were buzzing well above their heads, swirling about in a mass.

***

Allynaria began to cool even more, and her breathing became quite shallow.  Willbrand knew this was not good, and went for his bag for antitoxin.  Quietly, Willbrand spoke to the unconscious Allynaria, giving her his deepest regrets.  If he was to give her the antitoxin without poison being the source of her illness, he might kill her.

If he did nothing, she would surely die.

***

Kalam stares out into the sky, thankful that the full moon has aided his torch by giving them much needed light to work by.  He follows the buzzing flies as they swarm around, and against that white circle in the heavens, the insects look to be flying in the form of a pentagram.

Lerif pulls at the bar in the beast’s mouth, and with a wet thud it slides out.  He holds it out into the full moon light, and sees that it is 

silver.

***

Allynaria’s eyes open a pale blue, her teeth bared and fanged.

Godhead

Episode 1: Prequel     --          September 8, 2005

[This episode takes place during the escape from the Vampire’s Lair at Four Points, occurring just before the end of the Spring 2005 Semester of M.U.G’s Chapter of Living Earth]

They flee in terror from the advancing waves, literally waves, of spiders and vermin that flood from the uncovered pyramid.  The ground swells underneath them and gives way to huge rifts that chase them down nearly as quickly as their many legged pursuers.  It’s no use running, they can never escape the ripping earth, and soon they find themselves sinking into the ground that has opened up below them.

They can see themselves being buried alive; see their companions struggling in vain against the loose dirt that overcomes them.  The earth fills their ears, and they can hear and feel the flow of sand as it whisks them away…

In the darkness below the earth, an enormous cavern lays undisturbed for centuries, until one hand breaches the roof of this small world.  Soon it is joined by another hand, then a foot, and the end of a sword.  Quickly the struggling of these frantic limbs causes the earth to give way, and in a fall of tangled roots and sand the adventures are excreted out onto the cavern floor, many hundreds of feet below.

Quickly gaining their bearings, they take out a sun-rod and look around.  Their number has been halved, and now all that remain are: Lerif the Dwarfish Monk, Allynaria the Roguish High Elf, Rhodi the Halfling Scoundrel, Kalam the Warrior of Witch Blood, Strikeland the Half Blood Fighter, and Willbrand the Pirate.  Each fears the fate of their companions that are missing; each is grateful that they at least are not alone.

***

As they take in their new surroundings, they soon realize that climbing out is not an option.  The area of the cavern is huge; near 100 yards around at points and made of natural earth and stone.  There are no signs as to how the cavern was created, since no body of water or opening to outside winds were present to explain the erosion.  Instead, the dwarf notes that is seems as if the great pit were made from the felling of a giant tree and displacement of its root-ball, but the size of such a tree would have been grander then the greatest towers of old and would have scraped at the very sky.

Finding the edge of the cavern, the heroes begin to walk around searching for a way out.  As the long search drags on, Willbrand leans back against a rock and lights his pipe, only to see the flicker of the flame pointing out the direction from where fresh air is drifting in.  The party quickens their pace with an objective at hand, and so head in the direction of the open air.

After a long march, they hear a change in the atmosphere, and spy an enormous underground lake ahead of them, lit by their torches reflected off a ceiling speckled with crystal.  Several dozen yards across, the banks of the lake seem untouched by long centuries, and are shrouded in a heavy and unearthly fog.  They approach the water, and looking into it they notice their own reflections staring back at them from the perfectly mirrored surface.  Careful inspection reveals that the still and empty water is covering a thick layer of grey silt, making the lake work like a living mirror, and further proving that these waters had not been disturbed for a very long time.

Rhodi throws a rock into the lake, much to the dismay of his fellows.  Still, nothing happens.  Further exploration still produces no reaction from the lake or evidence of danger, and the adventurers begin to devise a means to swim across the surface, hopefully to reach safety on the other side.  Strikeland prepares to swim when a slight noise is heard in the previously dead-calm water.  Tiny waves begin to sweep up the shore, and careful eyes can spy the movement of dark things in the water.  Retreating up to safety, the adventures lure out the creatures in the lake, living black tongues half the size of men that have awaken to search the water for food.  Lerif remembers that in some deep caves creatures lived that would sleep for centuries waiting for something to wake them in order to feed.

After much debate, the party decides to risk a climb across the wall of the cave, hoping to reach the other side by hugging the walls and avoiding the water all together.  If they are not careful, they will certainly fall into the lake below and drown or be eaten alive.

***

They take their time, and the climb is arduous, but they reach far past the lake and eventually to a blind spot on the wall, where they can not be certain if there is still room to cross to safety.  Lerif is the first in line, and twists his head to see what lay past the unseen obstacle.  He is frozen; and his companions know not why.  Allynaria, next in line, braces herself and attempts to move past Lerif in order to help, but awaken by this movement Lerif rushes to stop her.  When asked to explain what happened, the dwarf tells his fellows that beyond the blind spot lay an ancient Dwarven Totem, the kind used in ancient days to guard important sites and cities from evil intruders.  He knows not what the totem can do, but he has always been taught that it is unwise to stand against one of these ill omens.  Lerif wishes to turn back.

Just then the wall begins to give way under Kalam’s grip, and the others decide that they must take their chances with the totem, and push on.  As each turns the corner and continues to climb down past the totem, they are awed by the giant head carved into the plan stone.  With its hollow eyes and gaping mouth, they feel as though they are being watched by a wrathful god, and many of them loose their nerve.  Quickly they descend from the wall to the far shore of the lake, and onto the forbidding pier of stone design and dwarven make.

The shore on this side is clearly dwarven in nature, yet slightly different then what might have been expected.  The steps were made for beings slightly larger then dwarves yet not quite the size of men.  On the wall facing the shore there are pictograms of simple dwarf-like men (only larger) pouring the black tongue creatures into the lake.  Lerif had heard of this, and realizes that such a tactic would ward off attacks from across the lake, even as it purified the water supply from any other organic life.

Before going on, the party is surprised by the cracking of energy and the sounds of their missing companions drifting in through mid air.  It is now that they realize that the cracks in the cosmos that had began a year ago by their actions had followed them and transported them to this spot.  Hopeful that they will be able to find their way home, they march forward.

The pier is in itself a gateway to a large Dwarven Keep, nearly a city in size, which lay under the ground.  Legend and rumor speaks of “Safehaven”, an ancient keep of renegade or lost dwarves that left the Great Wall at the dawn of time to make their home in the main continent.  The party’s adventures had revealed some mention of this place, and now it seems that fate has directed them there.

***

The party begins to explore the keep, searching for some sign of its past inhabitants and some means of escape.  The longhouses are empty, the livery is as well.  No signs of life or death can be found.  The place seems to have been built and never used, and there are no signs of age or dust anywhere.  The building themselves are made of stone and wood that acts as stone, wood that is petrified.  The armory is centrally located, and easily accessed, but empty of weapons and filled only with unused racks.  The garden-towers have plowed earth but no hibar-fasul, the legendary and hearty dark-vines to grow upon them.

Eventually the search begins to slow down, until the pirate spies a large stone disk set into the floor under the central-most tower.  Inscribed with Dwarven Runes of ancient mode, Lerif struggles to decipher the lost tongue.  He believes the words tell that the “storage” room was under one glyph, and that the huge stone lid must be pushed aside to access it.  With great effort the party removes the lid, and finds a dark passage underneath, whose bottom can only be reached through a spiraling stone staircase that twists below.

***

The party descends into the storage chamber, bringing their torches with them.  As they reach the bottom, they find that the air is painfully cold, the sort of cold that penetrates the bone.  The bottom of the chamber is a large circular Great Hall.

Picking a direction at random, they march ahead from the center of the circular room (and the bottom of the staircase) to the edge.  As they approach the edge, their torch light reveals the outline of a hideous figure of blackened weeds, barely humanoid, and seated upon a stone pillar.  Pacing across the room, they find equally unnatural and odd objects on stone pillars, each seeming to be of a different origin then the last.  One in particular stood out; a long ceremonial lance, twice as big as a man and made of gold with inscribed hieroglyphs of strange men standing in line for a ceremony.  Willbrand sees that this thing is priceless, and after Rhodi checks for traps Kalam takes it off its pillar.  It seems as if the dwarves stored objects from foreign lands here.

Allynaria, Lerif, and Strikeland kept walking as their three friends are busy inspecting the treasures, when they approach the next object in the room.  Sitting on a scale temple in the style of a step-pyramid, is a large and looming mask.  In its glaring and fierce face, they sense something foreboding… its golden headdress, empty eyes, and gaping mouth full of crooked fangs… chills them.  They realize it is a thing of evil.

In a moment, they too realize that all these strange objects are things of evil.  Lerif had misread the rune; it had not read “storage” it had read “prison”.

***

Turning in fear to their companions, desperate to stop them from releasing one of the “prisoners” of this spectral jail, they see Willbrand, Kalam, and Rhodi contemplating how to best carry their unwieldy lance, oblivious to the fiery eyes that begin to manifest in the shadow behind the pillar where the lance once stood.  In an instant, a six legged, six eyed beast of quills, fangs, and claws leaps from the darkness and pounces upon them.

The lance is pinned to the ground, but no one is yet hurt.  Those not surprised by the beast’s last attack turn against it.  The elf’s arrows fly through the beast skull, daggers and swords slash its flesh, but still it stands.  Blades crack in its jaws as the beast lunges forward only to meld into the shadows and dashes across the room, leaping out again to unleash a flurry of attacks from its many claws.  The party returns violence with violence and despite heavy blows and a sneak attack that makes it past the beast’s many eyes, they are unsure if they have slowed the thing down.  Again the beast dashes into one shadow and out another again.

But the fates are sometimes kind to heroes.  When things seem to have reached their crises point, the torch which Willbrand had dropped at the start of battle suddenly burns out and the beast, now starved of its fuel, is vanquished.

***

In the pitch darkness of the Great Hall, they all lay panting and bleeding.  Eventually, Lerif moves slowly through the endless dark to replace the lance from where it came, hoping to imprison the beast one again.  In darkness he leads them up the stairs to the safety of the keep above.

But as they reach the stop of the stairs, they find themselves squinting in the sun.  At first alarmed, they are quickly relieved to see that they have once again been whisked away by the freakish flow of magic that has haunted them for too long now.  Without delay and without a chance to reflect, the heroes are off again to try and stop a war that may destroy all they know.

And somewhere a face lies screaming under the soil, waiting to be freed.

That is where we left off last semester, and where this story will soon begin…