Fables of the Borderlands

The Adventure Continues!

The Adventure Log is now conducted live on our Facebook page, Fables of the Borderlands

The Deep Cellars: II
Act: III Scene: II

Day 2
By mid-day the group had shrunk to a mere membership of three, bloodstained, tattered, and injured fellows. What can be said of the others are secrets held by the dungeon and conspired between the survivors of it’s endless corridors, and unremitting horrors. Such records shall not be recorded here, as the deeds and failures of men make for poor legend and besmirch the reputation of would-be kings.

Weary, starving, and with little torch left, the party wondered the benighted halls of the dungeons, as if in panic their pace never slower than a rushed walk, the group bypassed many doors, seeking as it seemed some way out in desperation, silently pleading with the gods they had forsaken since childhood beseeching for redemption.

Yet their deeds seemed to have damned them, and so their sole logic in navigation became to take every passage to the right, as Gaston would repeat stamping forward in a blind stare ‘right is always right

At one point the group then, happened upon a gothic door, of oak and black iron hinge. Loden in his inspection discovered the words “beware the drums” cut into the frame, finding no fault with the door, he yielded to a position granting anyone who would, to open the door and proceed. Jergo stepping forward unlatched the catch and inched the door open peering in, his vision apt to the darkness revealed a room of tossed sacks and broken containers of mold ridden grains and other foodstocks, upon which writhed a half dozen huge wriggling centipedes, their many legs twitching and stepping in a fluid pattern of horrific beauty. Quickly the sensitive beasts perceived their onlookers and sought them for their warm flesh. Centipedes a yard long, slithered across wall and ceiling falling upon the flailing terrified party. Fangs sunk into flesh, and iron into worm. The aftermath saw the party triumphant, though nursing, numb limbs and throbbing heads.

After a failed ransacking of the room for loot, two of the robbers lost iron weapons to a clever cloud of chaos magic, that consumed a hammer and spear in corrosive rust. Gaston unwittingly touching a sacred object released a contemptuous whirl of wailing spirits who tossed him in the air as they howled in their final exodus from this plane.

The noises, attracted others too, a staunch lizardman attempted to dismember Gaston with an axe of sharpened bone, however in a lucky swing of the sword the robber beheaded the beast, and claimed the hideous blade.

THE TERRIBLE SHADE And then it came at first its voice approaching echoing across the chambers a moaning threat “GET OUT” the voice came and with it the presence of evil, even the room changed to a horrible chill, the breath of the men frosting as it left their mouths, hair raising, and skin pimpling like goose hide.
A moments hesitation was answered by the unforgiving clutch of a being preternaturally black. Darker than the absence of light around it, man like, but featureless, faceless and full of hate. The specter grabbed the hobbit at the arm and clasped him in a grip like two glaciers opposing direction, the half man nearly died as all strength flowed from his body like a sieve into the dark creature that held him.
Gaston had already made his departure, and Loden behind him, the two galloping away in fright the creature took flight after them, though Gaston knew he only had to outrun the smaller man, and thought nothing of anyone but himself. As the terrible shade gave chase, Jergo ran deeper into the uncharted dungeon, fleeing for safety.

THE WAY OUT?Whether the horrified looters realized it or not, the spirit dispersed into the thin air unwitnessed, perhaps satisfied with the retreat, or incapable of pursuit any further. Gaston and Loden had discovered a stair ascending, and with unimaginable appreciation ascended
the steps into a wonderful sight, beyond a room of barrels, a garden could be seen, what luck! ~or so they thought…

THE WATERY GRAVE Jergo on the other hand had scampered down one of the unlit halls, fortunate in his ability to see without light. In his haste however, he ran into a puddle, or what appeared to be a puddle, but was in all actuality a deep pool of brackish water, where he thudded into something that had made this pool a watery grave.
Jergo immediately clamored out of the pool in fright, and leaned against the cold wall despairing. His grandfather had beckoned him to become an alchemist and advised against leaving the village. How much he had been right, Jergo lamented. Nothing had changed with the pool, jergo’s curiosity grew, he had always been driven by his wonder. What had been in the pool?
He returned to the side and carefully looked beneath the surface, there in a depth no more than 6’ was a Dwarven knight wearing the metal shards that had been designed to save his life had instead assuredly caused his death in the pool. Jergo knew the armor was valuable, he wondered if it could be enough to provide a means to return him to his home, and the alchemical studies of his grandfather.
Fate provided the clue, Jergo reached into his pocket and retrieved a small potion gifted to him on the day of his departure from the village. Drinking the liquid, he felt his strength return, though it would only be temporary, the hobbit acted quickly. Pulling the rope from his pack he entered the pool and fastened it to the knight. His heart was racing, he could feel his strength exceeding even its normal range. Jergo whispered a quiet thanks to his studious grandfather for the potion, and hoisted the dwarf from his grave.
With a prayer for the departed, and thanks to the gods, Jergo claimed the suit of metal, piece by piece, weighing it in his hands, it was certainly lighter than any metal he had known, easily light enough to maneuver in but sure enough to defend against blade as it was to drown. He made a promise to himself to be careful of that…

LOOTING ON THE GO Gaston and Loden had consigned their little friend to the same fate that they had seen so many of their other companions meet. And shared no words of worry or concern between themselves as to his safety or rescue. No, the garden lay ahead with the light of day upon it. Loden stopped staring at the barrels, ‘what do you think might be in there?’ he quizzed his strong companion. ‘treasure’ came the reply. And the two set to smashing the contents, together they found two arcane scrolls that bared images of fire and brimstone, …and a ring bearing an arcane inscription… Loden had always had a way with words, a natural understanding that pertained to deciphering unknown symbols. Such talents had earned him many bruises from jealous bullies of his youth. Though he could not read the inscription, he knew stories of magic rings, and knew this had to be one. He placed it on his finger and the two headed for the garden.

THE GARDEN Grinning to the two thieves entered the garden, their smirks quickly turned to foul frowns, no sun, or sky or even breeze was in this place. Instead an unearthly light had been permanently made manifest upon a ceiling of stone, the men realized the garden was but a room that mocked the outside, a room that had two exits…
They ventured across the garden, lichens, and small plants grew upon boulders placed around a gravel path leading through the center of the garden room.
As the two reached the center the boulders suddenly shifted, grinding upon themselves in a terrifying sound of stone against stone, facial features shifting into place, angry, and full of primordial strength. The boulders moved with terrifying grace and speed for their size and unimaginable weight. Both men attempted to dive out of the path of a falling limb of solid stone, neither succeeded. Loden caught a blow that drove him into the path deep enough that he joined the loose gravel around him, and knew no more. Gaston was caught with a swinging blow that drove him back the way he came with a force that spun his mind and drove him into the darkness.
He awoke who knows how many minutes later, having been knocked into the room of barrels. Every part of him throbbed intensely, and he could barely move. The boulders had settled back into the earth of the garden as though they had resumed their seats and were awaiting some event that may one day come many millenniums from now. Their features had smoothed, and they looked as normal as they had before they revealed their incredible power.

In his frazzled haze between life and death, Gaston drew a long rope from his leather pack and with bloodied hands fastened the end into a lasso. He would not dare tread deeper into the dungeon, or return to the garden but at least he could try and pull Loden from the garden of horror. He cast the rope missing and near missing with his trembled throws, until finally the loop fell round the backpack Loden held on his back, and with all his remaining strength pulled the man from the room, and rolled him over. Loden had lost luck in the eyes of the gods that day, however he still breathed…

ESCAPE FROM THE GARDEN His senses returning from what was becoming a never ending sleep, Loden fingered the mysterious ring, smearing his blood from its golden rim, and laying upon the ground studied the inscription upon it as the two waited to die as though abandoned by the gods in this cursed place.
In a wearied voice Loden murmured “I believe this ring might just be our way out.” Gaston excited and exasperated at the same time, helped his companion to his feet and said “well then, make it get us out of here then!”
Loden forced his mind into reaches heretofore unknown to his life, as though tapping into some past life, his fervent thoughts flew deeper and deeper in concentration upon the symbols of the ring.

“You long to escape. For home you yearn. All that you seek IS the RING OF RETURN!”

At that very moment Loden’s became overwhelmed with a splitting migraine, the ring took on the force of the four winds, and began forcing his arm about the room like a kite string aloft in a storm. Loden began to wince and then wail in a fit of panic, surprise, and pain…

Gaston drew back in horror, frightened by the exhaltation and impending doom of the damned man that stood before him!

The ring demanded control, or would force it upon its possessor, it became heavy and powerful, as the unseen winds began to focus themselves not in alternate directions but upon the poor lads hand itself, Loden mustered every ounce of remaining strength in a courageous attempt to point the hand away from Gaston and towards a wall.

A beam of fire and light shot from the ring, incinerating the wall in growing oval of flame that expanded from floor to ceiling. The winds lessened as the flames shrank and dimmed from orange to blue green faerie fire, and dissipated upon the surface leaving a watery mirror upon the wall that projected the frightened images of the men back upon themselves.

With nothing to lose and thoughts of the Keep on the Borderlands in their minds, Loden and then Gaston cautiously stepped towards the mirror, and then through it and found themselves tossed and senseless beneath the low bough of a ancient pine laden in January snow, and just beyond the serpentine path to the Keep on the Borderlands…

The Deep Cellars
Act: III Scene: I

This record confirms the report of a group of young ordinary villagers who unwittingly entered a sprawling labyrinth of monsters, traps, trick and puzzles in a lust for treasure, and the spoils of conquest of which manifest the reigns of power, and may inevitably tether lesser souls to doom and damnation.

The events of the report have been summarized to make possible the recording of significant details and discoveries.

Day 1:
A giant hairy recluse spider destroyed the first of several fools to turn their fates over to the dungeon, however the mob of tomb plunderers was so great that they were able to over-power the giant and pierce its hide many times before it was able to successfully claim another victim.

DEN OF THIEVES The mob continued into the dungeon where they happened upon a band of rogues, armed with daggers, and crossbows. After a failed parlay in which the brigands demanded a hefty tax a violent skirmish ensued crashing within the confines of several rooms and a central hall. Ultimately the mob was able to kill all but a handful of the band of rogues, but at a cost of injury and death to more of their number.

A TRAITOR Already close to half of the original party remained, with one who turned traitor to join the band of rogues after a final argument and dispute with the mob leader, Gaston. And so the traitor, Rakka was able to flee into the dungeon clutching a valuable gemstone which had fallen from the belly of a levitating iridescent orb.

Eventually the survivors encountered many more rooms, and no shortage of imagined or perceived threats. No door, or hall was deemed safe until the parties’ cautious stable boy, Lodin tapped, patted, and inspected it for tripwires, traps, and “etcetera”

NEW FRIENDS Before the curtain fall of the first day the zealous tomb robbers, encountered an aging Dwarf, perhaps more frail than he would ever acknowledge, or permit others to know, and a Hobbit, Jergo who would soon find luck by eschewing his native timidity.

MORLOCHS Together the robbers and their new friends happened upon a large room, wherein sulked a clutch of lesser trolls, creatures who can only be described as they did not deign to introduce themselves. Though it can be certain they were natural fiends of the underworld, with their gnarled frames across which stretched patchy, callous gray skin, long reaching arms that ended in disease ridden iron nails at the tip of each finger. The nameless Dwarf was first to charge in with a great “HO!” as he raised his hammer overhead, to crush the eyeless skull of the creature before him ~ however his strike was erred, and sadly the sure thrust of a crude spear impaled the old fellow who collapsed upon the floor never to rise again.

Not without injury the group was able to destroy every fiend in the large room, whilst a clever Jergo, reached a cache in the rear room, and pocketed some valuable treasures, a fact he retained as dear as the treasure itself.

The Legend of Neconilis
Act: II Scene: IV

The story unfolds with a single adventurer, Elphias having received an urgent summons from Greyfaun Headmaster Sedgewick Theodore Grimm himself…

The wizard was dispatched to New Haven with a small retinue of horse riders from Greyfaun. Having reached the town he quickly became aware of several differences in which it opposed the Ulfheonar town of Thorne. In terms of age the town was but new having witnessed only several winters. The buildings were few, namely consisting of a militia barracks, and a resplendent merchant shop. New Haven’s people were of an ilk familiar to the wizard, for they shared their origins in the realm, rather than the old forests of Harrow.

Unique treasure items discovered in The Legend of Neconilis
Neconilis’ Book of Horrors, Azzmere’s Ring of Protection, Azzmere’s Relics of Neconilia, Azzmere’s Staff of Striking, Neconilis’ Lost Treasures of the Badlands, Amulet of Neconilis, Yagdoo’s Niche: Ring of Chameleon Power, Robe of Useful Items, extra-dimensional Bag of Holding, and one of five spellbooks of Neconilis; Neconilis II.

The Hound of Harrow
Act: II Scene: III

This post is currently a place-holder until I have time to write it.

Although my dear readers, you may wish to read the biography on Loré which does include a very detailed segment of this scene.

Into the Mountainous Wilderlands
Act: II Scene: II

Having escaped the insanity of the temple our adventurers traversed the ridges of Barrow mountain, the Keep in sight far beyond and below. The comforts of the bright blue sky, and late summer winds were soon forgotten as the party came upon a giant beetle, with a bronze carapace and two long frilled antennae, in a few twists of fateful melee the strange beetle lay crushed upon the ground upon two former possessions of one very enraged barbarian, the sword Ssulithus, and an expensive coat of iron ring mail, now nothing more than a disparate scattering of rusted flakes. rustmons.gif

Nothing was more certain to the group than the notion that they or something they carried with them was cursed, for things continued to worsen, as they journeyed along a treacherous pathway along the precipice of the mighty mountain range. Dark clouds gathered ominously in the skies, growing watchful masses of grey. The temperatures lowered even further than the stark chill it had been, and soon droplets of rain began to ping upon the rocky path at their feet. The adventurers shuttered at the first clap of lightning in the distance, the sounds of thunder rolling across the sky towards them. Each in turn clinching their cloaks tighter around their necks.

It was obvious that this place here in the borderlands was true wilderness, a man’s skeletal remains lay on the path, what had happened here? one could only imagine, if they dared… too frightening was the notion that such trips into the land of speculation would result in the manifestation of such fears. Was it paranoia, that from somewhere within a sixth sense whispered the warning of a stealthy stalker?

The adventurers came to a place upon the precipice pathway, where a heavy stone door had been set into the mountain side… As ominous in its designs as the storm clouds above, Not even the wily Gnome, nor the thief Nadia wanted to chance a look in side. No one was fully rested, nor restored from the multifaceted injuries they had suffered in the temple and not a one wished to chance what remained of their tattered constitution to what might lay behind the stone door. And so they continued on exterminating the place from their memories collectively.

The Lost Adventurers
Argosa & Tinaroth

The two adventurers had lost count of the days, which they beleaguered in this tepid biting, wasteland, that Borderlanders called The Marshes. Both men had long since discarded their heaviest, most cumbersome items. Since the small wreck of a boat they had confiscated from Ishtar’s Treasure Horde had split upon a devil’s rock in the southern bend of The River Lech. They had lost many of their possessions, and many more still set to wandering by foot.

Somewhere, probably in some fetid quicksand Argosa’s hauberk was lost to rust into nothingness. Now he wore but a few fabrics, light but worn ragged by the snagging vines, and jagged rocks. His mind was set to the task, faith in something beyond his trappings had stuck with him since the The Tower of the Black Pearl and it stuck with him now.

Tinaroth however, was not so mild about these circumstances. Certainly the terrors of the tower were there in his mind, but more imminent was the harrowing imprisonment by the evil Naga Ishtar. The swamp was far more vast then either had supposed looking upon it from the Main Gate of the Keep. Tinaroth looked to Esmeralda, the lute that had passed to him from Abaroth his father, a talented spellbinder of no uncertain renown. It had certainly suffered the presence as had all fine things each man possessed.

Tinaroth held the lute in shame, as he contemplated their damnable state his sorrows gathered. He knew that nothing short of a miracle would ever insure that Esmerelda would ever sing again. Consigned to a life of eating fish and frogs, and the menu of any number of predators was no tale of a bard. It wouldn’t be long before the two would begin a daily deathwatch for the other, though they deeply hoped to find the Marshes end before that…

Into the Grey
Act: II Scene: I Survivors of the Ancient Temple

Finally it was over, though none of the four would ever be the same. This was never truer then it was for the thick skinned barbarian of the eastern steppes. Jalyve he told them, though now his name had never meant less. It had been a central pillar of pride in the young barbarians life to have been given the name of his tribal forbears. But the horrors of the temple had stolen that from him, robbed him of his identity, and made him a hideous beast only worthy of a wretched violent death.

The head of a horned bull had twisted the once strong warriors face in a manner of such odious permanence no joy in the world could ever force even the smallest grin upon his now black leathery lips. The barbarian’s skin crackled with a primal energy that carried a bestial musk, which wafted from his body in a faint black cloud with every stride. Stranger still the dungeons horrors had carved cruel mockeries of human faces into his back, chest and leg, which gawked and groaned like the damned who wallow in the swamps of hell.

Jalyve had known few towns which would have willingly accepted his presence within their taverns, and now he would know absolutely none. Yet, he would not consider the call of the great vastness that opened out before them. The hall in which they stood had been ruined for many years. Perhaps the hammer of the gods had set the mountains to quake in a time before the first stone of the Keep had been set, and with the hammer’s clash it took with it the shoulder of the mountain, and wherever this ancient dungeon hall had once lead.

Yes, indeed the call of that great void into which the four could look out into the entire valley and forest 1000’s of feet below had something to offer them all. For Jalyve it would be the end of humiliating form at the bottom of that abyss beyond the last tile of the ancient hall’s reach.

For Nadia the elf it would be the end of the shame she would forever feel at the demonic visage which had taken possession of her face. Her slender nose switched for slitted nostrils in the middle of her face, her tongue dark narrow and forked, hair that had grown for centuries now would be never more.

Violet the thief, born within the hamlet under the watchful guardians of the Keep, had suffered a imprisonment in a cell with no walls or doors, her choices and experiences placing her within an alignment opposite the destiny two loving parents had hoped and prayed for. From her cell she would forever gaze into a bottomless pit of covetous greed, and murderous zeal. Chaotic evil urges whispering suggestions that would forever undermine any rationale which could hope to return her to the path laid out before her at birth. The abyss, beyond the ancient hall offered her future victims well deserved lives and possessions that which now lied between her and a perditious road of insatiable roguery.

Finally Jynxx the Gnome, or Leopold the Lion as he had been called in the Keep, stared into the vastness of the valley abyss of the gathering silence of the last breath left the demonic lips of the devils that lay on the floor of the ancient hall. A line had begun to be drawn through his name in the celestial kingdoms as well. As he placed his hands about an exotic crystal prism once the possession of an Imp which had moments ago almost slipped away with the Gnome’s soul. As Jynxx stared into the great beyond, the prism gave a sudden immediate twitch, though never moving. A twinge of energy tugged along the vein of his arm, and leaped upon his heart. The gnome felt a loss in value in his very preservation as he stared to the valley floor, the great vastness offered simplicity which seemed to echo by another new and selfish force within his mind. How beautiful the view, and cool the air. Such a sweet smell such vastness, this new voice whispered to him. Ah but a little closer, yes, how nice. That’s right but a step more to appreciate the wonder of the great vastness below.

The obvious duality of black and white were now completely obscured from the survivors. The two were now merged in their minds, each of them had passed into the grey having come this far. Now not even they could tell, that they were more truly victims of the harrowed halls. They had prospered nothing, and had been reincarnated as the living embodiment of the terrors of these insidious temple halls.

Had the the gods known this when they cleft the mountain shoulder here at the ancient hall? Known that the last hope for this dungeons victims would be the call of the great valley abyss? Or was it the principalities of darkness that plotted this last trick for the would be survivors of this horrid place, a passive suggestion, or simple alternative to the despair and cruelty that would birth itself by the day, hunting each one down by the inevitable arrival of exhaustion, the vampire that vacates human will…

Missing Adventurers
Dead or Alive?

Argosa and Tinaroth have not returned to the Keep. Local villagers and craftsmen who knew them have begun to wonder if they will ever see two of the most promising adventurers ever to set foot in the keep, return to their residence and take up a normal life.

The Keep Blacksmith Seigfreid Freuh has said that he hopes to see them return. “I gave one of the heroes a fine axe that had been in my family. If I had any doubt they wouldn’t return I would have given it to Johann, my eldest. I have faith that our beloved St. Cuthbert will see them home to safety.”

But not everyone in the town seemed to be so fond of the missing adventurers. The Keep’s benevolent Guild Master, Liebrecht Oldenhaller had this to say, “They have likely succumbed to one of the many hosts of danger that fill the borderlands. Men of law they were not. Nor can it be said those men were of good heart. On numerous occasions they engaged in violent behavior within our fair Keep, and disrupted the peace. He who lives by the sword dies by the sword!”

Lair of the Lizard Men
Act: I Scene: XI

Tinaroth and Argosa awake in the morning to find that Zabeth and Gwyn are mysteriously missing. They begin searching the area and discover large 3-toed tracks the size of a man’s foot print. And attempt their best to make sense of the prints, but to no avail. They collect the few belongings left behind by their friends as the evidence of a terrible abduction begins to set in their minds.

Together, they make their best attempt to follow the trail into the swampland marshes and successfully track the path to a wide clearing in which leads to a clearing in the swampland. In the center is a wide mound covered in diverse marsh vegetation.

The Characters explore the area around the mound looking for a way to enter the mound from the rear. But see only snakes and frogs, living in the watery clearing. They suppose that if there is a rear entrance that it is accessible only by submerging beneath the water through a tunnel.

They circle around and approach the mouth of at the front of the mound. Argosa in the front, wades through the swamp water, just as Tinaroth hears an insidious reptilian hiss. In an instant Argosa feels the painful sting of a wasp on his neck, but reaching to smack the little devil finds the sting came from a blow dart, a needle drips with black ichor into the brachish water at his feet, but whatever poison may have downed him was resisted by the good fortune and fortitude of the paladin of Amun Tor.

The green scaled monster, advanced forward a blow gun in hand and a crude axe at it’s side. Both men engaged the reptilian, swords in hand. Argosa, lunged and sliced through the air with his sword, missing his opponent, as Tinaroth lowered his balance and leaned forward with a quick thrust with Whisker. The thin sword bent against the thick defensive lizard hide, but the incredibly sharp tip pierced the scaly layer and drew first blood. The reptile hissed at Tinaroth, it’s inhuman gaze narrowed on the Bard, and swung it’s crude axe just above the shoulder missing Tinaroth. Argosa taking advantage of the lizard man’s new focus to strike it in the arm, another gash of blood sprayed from the creature sprinkling down and mingling with the swamp water in which they stood and thrashed.

The lizard man had hardly seemed to notice the second wound, and dropped its weapon to the water, reverting to instinct it opened it’s wide mouth exposing its short pointy teeth, and muscular prognathic jaws… Tinaroth could scarcely evade as the reptile bit down hard on his shoulder, tackling the man and overbearing him with its heavy body, Tinaroth fell into the shallow water in which they fought, as the Lizard man quickly determined to drown him. The bard was no match whatsoever to the insane strength of his foe, and knew instantly if his friend was unable to save him, he would surely die here in the fetid waters of the marsh. But Argosa had the chance he needed to save his friend’s life, the broad muscular back of the Lizard man posed a very vulnerable target to the paladin, who merely had to raise his sword high to plunge it sure and deep into the heart and lungs of the reptile creature. In seconds the fight was over, Argosa put his boot upon the body of the lizard and withdrew his sword from the deep and fatal wound, Tinaroth burst to the surface and took a very need gulp of air. As the men caught their breath they turned to face the mouth of the mound determined to enter and find their lost companions; Gwyn and Zabeth. Before they could count the moment, another Lizard appeared out of the darkness, it’s sullen yellow eyes burning with hostility told the men they would again fight for their lives.

Never, ever in their lives had the two men felt such opposition. The powerful lunges, loud hissing threats, the size and speed of the lizardfolk race was unlike anything they had ever seen or heard of in their short, sheltered lives back in the Realm. The Lizrd man fought with the capability of two men, soldiers all their lives. It took everything the heroes had to defend themselves, and then things turned for the worse. The tall lizard creature grabbed Argosa with two huge hands pinning his arms to his side and immediately clamped it’s prehistoric jaws damaging Argosa’s half plate, and bruising his flesh beneath the metal pressure plates. Next the Lizard placed his foot behind Argosa’s heel forcing him off his balance and tripping the fighter. A huge splash accompanied the heroes plunge into the fetid waters. Argosa quickly began to drown. Tinaroth armed with Whisker slashed and jabbed with his fine sword attempting his best to murder the lizard brute before it could drown his friend. Over and over the two turned, man and reptile, Argosa taking the biggest gulp of air he could before being twisted back beneath the water, by the instinctive predator. Tinaroth groped for his dagger, knowing that if he didn’t soon kill the damn reptillian it would succeed in filling his lungs with water, Tinaroth piercing the creature from above could see small fountains of red blood spill from the scaly hide of the lizard man, but the creature didn’t seem to notice. Argosa’s fingers wrapped around the handle of his knife, and once it was free it’s sheath the paladin, plunged it again and again and again into the back of his adversary. As quickly as it had started the creature had been defeated, it’s body hacked and mutilated layed half submerge in the reddened water, both men were more than glad it was not them that they looked at.

After the battle and after the Lair was cleared the Adventurers decided to wait out the storm, after waiting two hours A Naga arrived, a short fight ensued that ended when both of the adventurers were deeply charmed. At two months they both simultaneously break out of the spell but she was able to detect their thoughts.

When Tinaroth went to charm her she instead put them both under a new charm spell of her own, which manifested as a black cloud. One week later on the 9th week only Argosa awoke but this time he realized she was in his thoughts. He tried to kill her while doing a sword trick but failed twice and on the second attempt, also failed to block Ishtar (Naga) from his thoughts. She became violently mad and stung him and put him into a lasting nightmere.

When he awoke he was again charmed but broke the spell with a successful will save on the 10th week (mid September). He prayed well to Amun Tor, receiving a +5 bonus. This bonus also broke Gwyn from the charm spell but not Tinaroth (Pnoth). Argosa (Ollub) and Gwyn ran back to the cave while Ishtar slept (during the day-time). Argosa again prayed to Amun Tor, Gwyn became limned in a brilliant aura, and a heavenly host sang softly as Argosa was blessed.

Argosa and Gwyn sneak into her lair while she is asleep and attack her seven times, slashing open the larynx in one attack and finally beheading the monster.


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