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Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire
IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 34A: IN THE DUST OF THE OLD CITY

January 5th, 2009
The 18th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Night of Dissolution - Map of the Old City (Monte Cook Games)

They decided to pursue Theral and the ratling west through the illusionary wall. On the other side they found a vast, open chamber – clearly of new construction, with walls, floor, and ceiling formed of dark stones laid in strange patterns. To the south there was a flight of stairs and to the west there was another hall leading out of the chamber.

Based on what Uranik had told them, they guessed that the stairs to the south would lead back to the sewers. They thought it likely that Theral might have fled in that direction. Or, if not, then they could quickly eliminate it as a possibility.

At the top of the short flight of stairs they found a rust- and grime-free door of iron. From this side it was obvious that the door had been rigged with a simple wire-based alarm bell. Tee snipped the wire on the crude mechanical device and then opened the door.

They’d been right: The door opened directly into the sewers. Agnarr studied the ground, but couldn’t pick any clear or particular trail from the morass of tracks in the slime and muck of the walkway. If Theral had gone this way, he could be anywhere in Ptolus already.

They took the western hall, following it as it winded its way into a medium-sized chamber littered with garbage and feces. Amid piles of rotting refuse they could see, here and there, hollowed out rats’ nests of various sizes and shapes.

Tee took one look at the disgusting muck and decided that she didn’t want to waste her time poking through it.

“But we have to search!” Agnarr said with a grunt and started bull-headedly digging his way through the piles, sending various globs of filth flying into the air.

The others groaned at Agnarr’s display, but then Tee’s sharp eyes saw a folded piece of parchment suddenly tossed up into the air. Reaching out she snatched it.

A few minutes passed and Agnarr eventually gave up and turned back to them – his hands and forearms caked in a brown film of filth. “I guess there’s nothing here.”

Tee held up the letter.

URNEST’S LETTER

You can assure Reggaloch that additional slaves will be sent to him within the week. We have become very interested to discover what our Brothers of Venom are doing that requires such a constant flow of common flock. We have asked Illadras, but she has told us not to concern ourselves with it. Be cautious, but discover what you can.

Urnest

INTO THE OLD CITY

They were badly fatigued from their exertions over the past two hours and the spellcasters – particularly Ranthir – had almost completely depleted their mystic reserves.

But if they didn’t push on, they would lose the advantage of surprise. They weren’t sure what waited for them below – down the stairs that Vocaetun had attempted to flee – but they were certain that if they left they would find these halls freshly held against them when they returned.

And so down they went.

After turning many times, the old and worn stairs bottomed out into a large cavern. Pieces of fairly crude (and very old) masonry jutted out of the cavern walls here and there. The far side of the cavern ended in a wall of ancient clay bricks, out of which bulged a half-ruined tower that extended from roof to ceiling.

Ranthir recognized these ruins for what they were, and explained it to the others as they moved down onto the hard-packed dirt floor: These were the remains of the original city of Ptolus, founded by the great sorcerer who had apprenticed Danar and been destroyed by the Banelord. It was known that many such remnants of the ancient city could still be found, having been swallowed up figuratively by time and literally by the earth.

Tee left the others behind and crossed to the door in the wall of the tower. Agnarr followed, but not too closely.

Tee quickly ascertained that the door wasn’t locked, but spent a few more moments performing a quick inspection for traps. She began to turn back towards the others to announce the all-clear—

And, with an implosion of sulphur-laced air, a dog-sized rat with flame spewing from its eye-sockets appeared directly behind her.

If she hadn’t already started turning, she might have been caught completely off-guard. Instead, as the rat launched itself towards her, she was able to spin to one side – leaving the rat to thud loudly into the door behind her.

As the rat whirled back to her, Tee rolled onto her back and stabbed up through its neck. Almost simultaneously, Agnarr – who had come rushing forward – stabbed down through its head. Their blades crossed through its throat.

As the rat squalled a dying scream, Tee’s sharp ears caught the soft murmurings of arcane chants coming from somewhere above them. But before she could shout a warning to the others, she was suddenly afflicted with a magical malaise that left her dazed.

Agnarr, seeing her eyes glaze over, frowned with concern. “Tee? Are you all right?”

Running the Campaign: A Confusion of NamesCampaign Journal: Session 34B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire
IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 33E: MAGGOTS & RATSBANE

December 28th, 2008
The 18th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Ratmen Platoon - Midjourney

RATSBANE

As they pushed their own way through the secret door to pursue him, however, a carpet of dire rats poured through the illusionary wall.

There were dozens of them, but Agnarr just smiled grimly. “Okay, I think we’ve got this.” Twirling his blade slowly he moved forward.

But the rats were followed by a platoon of ratmen, all armed with dragon rifles. Several of them fired at Agnarr as they entered and the sickly-sweet scent of burning flesh filled the air.

Dominic reflexively laid his hands on Agnarr and the burn marks softened away. The barbarian was already bellowing with rage and a moment later, gritting his teeth, he charged. Tor followed in his wake with a rallying cry of his own. They cut a swath through the dire rats, trying to open a path to the rifle rats… but they were going to be too late. The riflers were coming into formation and lowering their guns for what was certain to be a lethal barrage.

But Ranthir, seeing what was happening, focused all of his energy. He had already cast one fireball that day, and the effort of trying to reforge the pathways of mystical force through his own mind and soul through sheer force of will was literally excruciating…

A ball of fire burst forth in the middle of the room, leaving in its wake a hillock of burnt ratflesh.

With a triumphant cry, Agnarr and Tor finished their swath of death through the dire rats and cut into the three rat riflers who were still standing. The riflers fell back before them with a desperate panic in their eyes. Theral and the only rat chieftain who had escaped the blaze, seeing their seeming triumph rendered instantly into desolation, turned and fled back through the illusionary wall.

MAGGOTS’ END

Tee and Elestra, meanwhile, dashed past the melee, hot on the heels of Vocaetun (who had disappeared down the stairs during the confusion). Tee forced him to turn and fight, dissipating one of his illusionary images in the process. But with a wave of his wand he blinded her again.

He turned to run again. Seizing the moment, Elestra murmured a few words, called upon the Spirit of the City, and laid her hand on his back… to no seeming effect.

He dashed around the corner… and then there was a bone-chilling scream which ended in a hideous gurgling.

Tee, her vision clearing, glanced at Elestra and then rounded the corner.

Vocaetun lay on the stairs. His mouth was frothed with maggots, which were also ripping their way out of the skin on his arms and around his neck. He was dead.

They quickly searched his body, taking his wicked wand so that Ranthir could turn it to their own purposes, and then dragged the corpse back up into the kaleidoscopic hall. By the time they returned, Tor and Agnarr had finished mopping up the last of the rats and ratmen.

Dropping Vocaetun’s corpse unceremoniously on the floor, Tee quickly searched the bodies of the others they had slain. On the weasel-faced man they found a note:

LETTER TO GREALDAN

Brother Grealdan—

We have intercepted letters from Reggaloch to others in the Ebon Hand. They are planning to betray us. When the signal comes, be prepared to purify the cause of chaos. Be wary.

And now they were faced with a decision: Should they pursue Theral? Descend the stairs? Finish their explorations of this level of the temple? Or retreat before more reinforcements arrived?

Running the Campaign: Battles at the DoorCampaign Journal: Session 34A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

 

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire
IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 33D: THE HELL HOUND AT THE DOOR

December 28th, 2008
The 18th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Chaos Cultists - Night of Dissolution (Monte Cook Games)

They headed out the opposite door and found themselves in another hall with doors to both their left and right. Arbitrarily choosing the door to the left, Tee picked the lock. Agnarr kicked it open.

The room beyond was extremely untidy, with a fetid smell that seemed to peremeate everything. The simple furnishings were crude and ill-kept. A weasel-faced man lying on the far bed jerked awake as the door crashed open.

Agnarr hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether the man might be a prisoner or not (the door, after all, had been locked and the room stank). But then he noticed that there was a sword laying on the bed and the man had a dragon pistol strapped to his side.

Agnarr charged with Tee on his heels. They hoped to silence the man before he could say anything, but he dove adroitly off the bed and rolled to his feet, firing his dragon pistol. He started shouting for help.

Tor and Dominic, still in the hall, turned and headed for the door at the far end of the hall, throwing their weight against it.

Tee, meanwhile, circled to the side of the weasel-faced man. Her blade darted here and there, keeping the man’s blade completely engaged while Agnarr came up from the other side and delivered the killing blow.

Someone threw themselves against the door Dominic and Tor were propping themselves against. It barely budged. They glanced at each and made a quick, unspoken decision. Dominic stepped away and Tor, timing things perfectly, yanked the door open at precisely the right moment.

A young elf woman – ebon-skinned like Shilukar – came stumbling through, thrown off-balance by the sudden disappearance of the door she had been planning to throw herself against.

Dominic and Tor were quick to take advantage – the former’s mace crushing her upper arm and Tor’s sword cutting deep into her thigh. She stumbled further down the hall, shouting over her shoulder. “Theral! There are six of them! Grealdan’s dead!”

Dominic looked through the open door and spotted Theral – the Brother of Venom that Tee had seen discovering Reggaloch’s body – beginning to cast a spell. He promptly slammed the door shut.

Almost simultaneously, with a powerful sweep of his sword, Tor caught the dark elf woman in the side of the face – his sword cut through one cheek, passed through her mouth, and out the other side. Her severed jaw fell to the floor and her body followed after it.

They took a moment to collect themselves and then threw open the door again.

HELL HOUND AT THE DOOR

A hell hound was at the door!

Like the ones that had attacked them at Pythoness House, the hound’s skin was cooled lava and its gaping mouth was a lake of fire that gouted a cone of flame down the length of the hall.

Beyond the hound was a massive chamber, its walls painted in horrific combinations of kaleidoscopic color. On the far side of the hall they could see a set of wide stairs leading down. To one side of the room stood Theral. At first there appeared to be six others on the other side of the room, but then they realized that there was only one man there – Vocaetun, the cultist with an ebon hand tattooed on the front of his neck – his form blurred and duplicated a half dozen times.

Tor and Agnarr squared off against the hell hound, rapidly reducing it to a pile of slag-like magma.

Theral, seeing the body of the dark elf woman and watching the fighters demolishing his hound, cursed and then shouted to Vocaetun. “Hold them here while I fetch the damn rats!”

Theral ran off down a side corridor. Vocaetun glared at his retreating back.

As the hell hound finally collapsed, Vocaetun waved a wand in Tor’s direction and then disappeared. Tor felt his eyes burning as they filled with acid.

Elestra leaped over the magma pile and headed towards the hall that Theral had dashed down. Rounding the corner she skidded to a stop.

“There’s a wall!”

“Don’t believe it!” Tee shouted, remembering the illusionary wall that Uranik had spoken of.

But Elestra hesitated. She didn’t want to throw herself into the unknown without the others to back her up.

Then Tee screamed.

Vocaetun had reappeared and hit her with an acidic curse that turned her own tears to caustic acid, having somehow circled around in the meditative chamber behind them. But none of them could see that – not even Tee, who was now clawing at her burning eyes.

Ranthir, seeing Tee’s reaction, knew that it must have come from behind them. “Over here! Tee’s being attacked!”

The others closed in on Vocaetun, but between the mirrored images dancing around his figure, the blurring displacement that seemed to cheat their vision, the blinding attacks from his wand, and the tight quarters, things quickly got confused and cramped.

Vocaetun mounted a fighting retreat back across the meditative chambers into the hall on the far side and then through a secret door into the kaleidoscopic hall. He had been hurt and was clearly beginning to panic. Once he was through the secret door, he broke into a pell-mell run across the hall – heading towards the stairs on the far side.

Running the Campaign: NPC SpellbooksCampaign Journal: Session 33E
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire
IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 33C: SECRET DOORS & SENTRIES

December 28th, 2008
The 18th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Ratmen Miniatures - Midjourney

“We should kill them,” Elestra said.

“What?” Tee said. “We said we’d let them go.”

“You saw what they were doing to those people,” Elestra said. “They’re evil.”

“And we’re not,” Tee said.

But it was clear that Elestra didn’t want to let them go – Uranik because of what he was responsible for and Arveth because she could so easily identify Tee.

“She doesn’t know my real name,” Tee said.

“But she’s seen all of us,” Elestra argued. “It won’t be hard to track down six people matching our descriptions… not with Dominic being the Chosen of Vehthyl.”

“We could just cut out her tongue,” Tor suggested.

Tee was shocked. She thought of Tor as the moral center of the group, and now she was taken aback by the bloodthirstiness of them both.

Tee prevailed and they left the two cultists unconscious where they lay. (“Cutting out their tongue never works anyway,” Dominic said.) They also decided to head through the secret door.

But as soon as they headed down the sewer tunnel, Elestra tried to double back and kill the prisoners. But she wasn’t sly enough for Tee – in fact, the effort was so clumsy that none of them took it seriously. Tee called her back and kept an eye on her until they were through the door.

Finding the door was easy enough now that they knew where to look. Beyond it they could see where the original line of the sewer had run, although it had clearly been diverted into new construction long ago. The reason for the diversion, perhaps, was the large sinkhole-like collapse that lay just beyond the new construction. A ladder leaning against the side of the sinkhole led down to an older passage of some sort beneath the sewer line.

Tee climbed down this ladder and scouted ahead, coming quickly to an intersection. She peeked around the corner, careful not to make a sound.

Unfortunately, the ratmen sentries had been warned by the light of the sunrod that Elestra was carrying. They took two quick shots at Tee’s head with a pair of dragon rifles as she ducked back around the corner.

Tee paused for only a moment and then rounded the corner again, running down the hall and firing with her dragon pistol as she went. She caught one of the ratmen in the shoulder in a blast of scorched fur.

The others, hearing the shots of both ratmen and Tee, started jumping down from the top of the sinkhole. Unfortunately, the broken floor of the passage below proved treacherous. Most of them fell haphazardly in the attempt.

The two ratmen where standing in a T-intersection at the far end of the hall. They were firing back at Tee now, but as she came closer they suddenly ducked behind opposite corners. Tee cursed, certain that they were going to reach the other defenders of the temple and raise the alarm before she could stop them.

But Agnarr was already scrambling back to his feet and racing down the hallways. He passed Tee easily, despite her considerable head start, and then slid down the last ten feet of the passage – right past the ratman who had scarcely finished turning to run. Before the  ratman could scamper down the hall, draw a weapon, or even turn back to face him, Agnarr had decapitated him.

The other ratman squeaked and retreated back towards a dead end. Tee rounded the corner and put an arrow through his eye.

As the others caught up with them, Tee knelt down to search the corpses. The ratmen had been carrying little of interest, except for the dragon rifles they had been firing. These were worn and badly damaged, marked with the clear patina of age.

“They’re not chaositech, are they?” Elestra asked worriedly.

“No,” Tee said. “They’re just very old.”

They continued into the complex. Several side passages had collapsed or partially collapsed, but they eventually came to a door of thick, sturdy oak. Tee picked a lock on this and they passed into a room that seemed equal parts meditative study and bedchamber. It was mostly empty, with only a straw mat in the middle of the floor. On the walls hung various tapestries (which Ranthir identified as each depicting great wizards of the past). There was a door directly opposite the one through which they’d entered. At the far end of the room there was a small wooden bookshelf containing a dozen assorted volumes. These, of course, caught the particular attention of Ranthir, who was also delighted to discover that one of them was a thick tome of spells.

Ranthir was not able to study the spellbook completely, but the illustrations of eyes being burnt away with acid were enough to leave him concerned.

Running the Campaign: Action Schticks Campaign Journal: Session 33D
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire
IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 33B: THE INTERROGATION OF ARVETH

December 28th, 2008
The 18th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Underground River - Zolran (edited)

After briefly discussing what they wanted to ask the prisoners and how they would go about interrogating them, they started with Arveth. Agnarr grabbed her by the ankles and held her upside down above the turgid sewer sludge. Tor slapped her awake.

She woke up angry.

“Who are you who dare to defy the powers of chaos?” She scanned their faces, but when she came to Tee’s she blanched.

“That’s right,” Tee smiled with vicious glee.

“You bitch!”

Tee smiled and shrugged. “Where’s Wuntad?”

Arveth’s eyes filled with confusion. “Who?”

Tee studied her carefully for a moment, and then suddenly her face broke into a large grin. “Oh! You don’t know anything, do you?”

“You insignificant worm! You’re not worthy of knowing the secrets of chaos!”

“Wrong answer.” Tee signaled to Agnarr, who dipped her into the channel of sludge. She came back up spluttering and gagging.

Tee pulled out the thick stack of papers they had collected. “Did you mean these secrets of chaos? Because I know these secrets. For secrets they don’t seem very well secured.”

Arveth glared. “You came so close to greatness.”

Tee laughed in her face. “Let’s try something simple. Who do you work for?”

“Dilar.”

“The centaur? Okay. What else can you tell me?”

Arveth hesitated.

“I guess you really don’t know anything. Well, in that case…” Tee raised her hand in Agnarr’s direction. The barbarian began lowering Arveth back towards the sewer sludge. Arveth panicked.

“I know things! I know!”

Tee held up her hand to stop Agnarr. “Like what?”

“There are at least eight people who come in and out of this building.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do they do here?”

Arveth hesitated again. Tee laughed. “You really don’t know anything. Did you even tell anyone before you came rushing in?”

“Yes. They’ll be here soon.”

She spat the words. But she’d hesitated for just a moment. Tee laughed again. “You didn’t! And you just tried to lie to me again.” She leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “You came so close to greatness…”

Tee gave a signal. Arveth had just a moment to struggle, certain that she was about to die, before Agnarr slammed her head into the wall of the sewer, knocking her unconscious again. Dominic took a moment to make sure that the wound wasn’t lethal and then they turned their attention to the spellcaster.

THE INTERROGATION OF URANIK

“I’ve seen him before,” Ranthir said. “He was one of the Venom cultists who killed the cultist from the Brotherhood of the Ebon Hand.”

“The one you saw while using clairvoyance?” Tee asked. Ranthir nodded.

They blinded the cultist and Agnarr dangled him above the sewer sludge. Elestra slapped him awake.

“Whoever you are, you’re already dead.” His voice was possessed of a cruel, sardonic tone.

Elestra laughed at him.

Tee ignored him. “Do you know where you are?”

“You blindfold me and then ask me where I am?” The man sneered.

At Tee’s signal, Agnarr hit him across the face. Hard.

The man licked blood from his lip. “All right. I’ll play along. Judging by the smell, I’d guess we’re in the sewers.”

“That’s right. We found our way down here.”

“You found a huge hole in the floor? Congratulations on your powers of perception.”

Agnarr hit him again.

“What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with your name”

“Uranik.”

“So you can tell the truth.” Tee smiled through her bluff. “That’s right. We know who you are. Now, tell us about the Brotherhood of Ptolus.”

The man laughed. “It’s a fiction. A front for the Brotherhood of Venom.”

“Which you belong to.”

“That’s right.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Being questioned by amateurs.”

Tee wasn’t amused. She signaled Agnarr, who lowered him and began swinging the top of his head through the sewer sludge.

“Stop it.” Uranik managed to keep his sardonic tone, but there was a slight edge of tension in his voice.

“Pull him up,” Tee said. “Hmm. You seem to have gotten a little dirty. Now, I’ve got one of your fancy pieces of cloth here – the one with the purple liquid on it. I suppose I could just wipe your face clean with it…”

“This isn’t necessary,” Uranik said. “If you let me live and let me go, I’ll tell you whatever you want.” He was outwardly calm, but it was clear that Tee had rattled him.

Tee considered it for a moment. “Dunk him so that we can talk.”

Uranik opened his mouth to protest… which was a mistake.

While he gurgled they quickly talked it over. Elestra didn’t like the idea of letting him go – unlike Arveth, Uranik had been directly responsible for the atrocities performed in the apartment building above them. But the rest of them decided to accept his terms.

Agnarr hauled him back up and they sat him down on the ledge. Tee quizzed him about the work that had been done in the apartment complex, and by comparing those answers to the papers they had retrieved she confirmed that he was being truthful… about that at least.

They learned that the cultists had broken into the apartment complex and started their experiments on the residents. When they ran out of residents, they started bringing in slaves from the Temple of the Rat God.

“And what’s down here in the sewer?”

“The Temple of Deep Chaos,” Uranik said. “It was founded by Wuntad.”

They quizzed him about Wuntad. He had apparently left the Temple here about a month and a half ago and Uranik hadn’t seen him since, although he believed that Illadras – who was now in charge of the Temple – was in contact with him. Uranik claimed to know nothing about Pythoness House.

“You work here with the Ebon Hand?”

“And others.”

“So why did you kill the other priest?”

“Reggaloch? He was planning to betray us.”

“And yet he’s the one who’s dead.”

“There were two of us and only one of him.”

“How do you get into the Temple?”

He told them of two entrances – an iron door down the western tunnel and a secret entrance up the northern tunnel. If they went through the iron door, they would enter a long stone hall. He described one of the walls of this hall as being illusionary, and said that there were four priests who stood as guardians and could look into the hall through a peephole.

“And through the secret entrance?”

“There’s a tunnel with two sentries on duty. If you can get past them, you should be able to come up behind the priests through their quarters. There’ll be a staircase down—“

“We’re going to leave you here. When you get out of your ropes, don’t try to warn your friends. We’ll make sure they know you’re a traitor. And we both know what you do with traitors.”

Agnarr knocked him unconscious. Tor loosened his ropes… slightly.

Running the Campaign: Bond. The Opposite of Bond. Campaign Journal: Session 33C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

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