SESSION 28A: THE MAW BECKONS

September 14th, 2008
The 15th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Jevicca offered them 1,000 gold pieces each for a preliminary investigation of the Banewarrens and identified a mansion on Nibeck Street in Oldtown where the Inverted Pyramid had first detected the surges of wild magic.

They looked at each other, clearly uncertain. Tee asked Jevicca if they might have a few moments alone to discuss the matter. Jevicca agreed and headed downstairs.

They quickly discussed what they had just learned. It wasn’t the first time they’d heard of the Banewarrens. They had discovered the “Drill of the Banewarrens” in the laboratories of Ghul’s Labyrinth, and now they could guess at the impregnable walls that the Skull-King had been seeking to penetrate. And, of course, there was also the prophecy of the coming of Tavan Zith that they had discovered in Pythoness House – a prophecy which now seemed to be coming true.

“There’s something else,” Tee said. She pulled out a thick bundle of papers representing the various fruits of their investigations. Among them was the sheet of astronomical-based prophecies they had discovered in the house of Helmut Itlestein. “Listen to this.”

The warrens are opened. Great evil pours forth.
No seal may be found while the heart remains untouched.

“I thought it was talking about the Warrens, but it didn’t make any sense. Maybe it’s actually talking about the Banewarrens.”

There was more than a little trepidation in the room. It was easy to feel overwhelmed in the face of such portentous history and riddling prophecy. The Banewarrens seemed like an insurmountable problem.

“But it’s not a problem we have to solve,” Ranthir pointed out. “She just wants us to investigate.”

“It’s easy money,” Agnarr said. “We don’t even have to go in. She said preliminary.”

(Dominic looked at him. “Where did you learn that word?” Agnarr grunted.)

Tee frowned. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”

“It’s never that easy,” Tor said.

But they decided to take the job. Tee headed downstairs to tell Jevicca. As she arrived in the entryway, however, Elestra walked in off the street. Tee sent her up to talk to the others.

Jevicca was glad that they were willing to conduct the investigation. While discussing the exact parameters of what the Inverted Pyramid was looking for (which turned out to be fairly vague), Tee dropped the name of Tavan Zith to see if Jevicca would know it. She didn’t.

Tee explained Zith’s identity and gave Jevicca copies of the two prophecies they had discovered. Jevicca promised to look into them.

A PARANOIA OF CASTLE SHARD

Tee headed back upstairs. By the time she got there, Elestra had already been filled in by the others. She agreed with Agnarr. It sounded like easy money.

After discussing it, they decided not to go up to the Nibeck Street mansion until the next morning. Many of them were exhausted from the ordeals they had suffered earlier in the streets of Oldtown and there were only a few hours left before Tee needed to go back undercover to the Brotherhood of Venom’s project site.

Dominic, however, raised the possibility of trying to question Tavan Zith again. “I know it’s dangerous, but we could try talking to him somewhere without any people around. Like a ceme— Like a field. A big, empty field.”

“We need some way of talking to him without triggering his power,” Tee said.

Ranthir pondered this for a moment. “The effect triggers a latent connection to sorcerous powers. It’s possible that an antimagic field should suppress it. If nothing else, it would suppress the powers released in others.”

“Can you make one of those?” Dominic asked.

Ranthir shook his head. “It’s beyond my skill.”

“We could talk to Lord Zavere,” Tee suggested.

“I don’t know if I trust Zavere any more,” Ranthir said. “We sold him the Drill of the Banewarrens yesterday and today someone breaks into the Banewarrens.”

Agnarr promptly proposed ambushing.

Elestra laughed nervously. “Okay, who here doesn’t want to ambush the most powerful wizard in the city?”

Hands were raised.

“Jevicca was interested in it, too,” Tee pointed out.

“So what you’re saying is that we can’t trust anybody?” Tor asked.

“Right,” Tee said. “Business as usual.”

There was a knock on the door.

THE SECOND INQUIRY

It was Brother Fabitor, the priest from the Chapel of St. Gustav. They let him. He seemed very nervous.

“Is this about Phon?” Tee asked. “We heard what happened to her.”

“What? Oh, no,” Fabitor said. “That was a terrible tragedy. But no, I have a message for Dominic.”

Now it was Dominic who seemed very nervous. “What is it?”

“A friend of mine has gone missing,” Fabitor explained. “A member of the Church. Earlier this evening I went to the Cathedral to report his absence. I was spoken to by the Novarch himself. I was honored. He asked me to come here. He requests an audience with Dominic.”

“When?”

“He said as soon as possible. It seemed quite urgent.”

“Then I guess we should hurry,” Tee said.

They ushered him out of the room and rapidly made preparations. Tor removed the signet ring of the Order of the Dawn. Dominic put back on the purple prelate robes that Rehobath had given him

They took a carriage to the Temple District. When they arrived at the Cathedral they were quickly escorted to Rehobath’s private office. He was waiting for them there, seeming to bathe in the light cast from his godwood desk.

Rehobath was being attended by three others: A middle-aged, brown-haired woman wearing Crissa’s ankh. A muscular, fit, middle-aged man with a shaved head wearing Athor’s cross. And a young, dark-haired man with angular features and a tall frame wearing the winged serpent of Vehthyl.

The woman introduced herself as Sister Mara von Witten, a member of the Sisterhood of Crissa. The younger man – Brother Thad – eagerly shook their hands. He gushed enthusiastically over Dominic, repeating over and over again what a great honor it was to meet him. Dominic squirmed.

Finally the other man was forced to interrupt him. “I think that’s enough. We should get down to business.”

“Yes, I agree,” Rehobath said. “This is Brother Heth Neferul, my friend and advisor.”

“How can we be of service to you, Novarch?” Dominic asked with a meekness born from feigned humility and nervous fear.

“We live in a time of prophecy,” Rehobath said. “And you seem to have a habit of finding yourselves in the middle of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The extraordinary events in Oldtown today – in which I have been told you were involved – are the beginning of what will be a new chapter in history. Tavan Zith has returned to this world, and if the prophecies are true that means that the Banewarrens have been opened. Tobias, if you would…”

Thad nodded and took up the thread. “I tend to the Archive of the Church as a member of the Order of the Silver God. There are many secrets recorded there that have been forgotten by other men. Among the legends recorded there is the tale of the Sword of Justice – a blade once wielded by the goddess Crissa herself.

“The sword was lost. But it was said to have been used by a man of great evil to create a place known as the Banewarrens. It is written that the Banewarrens were sealed by the gods themselves as an affront to the natural order of the world… but the Sword of Crissa remained inside.”

“If the Banewarrens have been opened,” Sister Mara said. “Then we have a unique opportunity to regain one of the lost artifacts of the Church.”

“If the sword is within our grasp,” Rehobath said, “It would be a powerful talisman in our cause to purify the Church. I have been told of your role in the return of Tavan Zith. And when the Chosen of Vehthyl is found in such a place… well, it seems to me that the gods have spoken.”

“Of course,” Brother Heth Neferul said, “We understand that such investigations will have certain expenses associated with them. And to that end we would be more than happy to supply you with a fund of 2,000 gold pieces for your trouble.”

They would practically be getting paid twice for the same job. There was no reason to pass that up. They agreed to the commission.

“Excuse me,” Tee said. “You said that Tavan Zith was mentioned in your books. Who is he?”

“We don’t properly know,” Brother Thad said. “But in some texts he’s referred to as a ‘saint’, so I’d assume he was working on behalf of the gods – although I have no idea which of them he may have served.”

“I see,” Tee said. “Thank you.”

Running the Campaign: One Job, Multiple Patrons – Campaign Journal: Session 28B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 27D: The Maw Opens

Tee read: “The Saint of Chaos shall return and the Banewarrens shall ope their maw. And the name of doom shall be Tavan Zith.”

“What does that mean?” Elestra asked.

“I don’t know,” Tee said. “Let’s ask him.”

She pulled Zith out of her bag of holding. Tor bound him securely. Tee blindfolded him. And Dominic healed him.

As soon as Tavan Zith awoke, however, they all felt a sickening, bursting feeling erupting in their chests. Agnarr instinctively smashed the pommel of his sword into the dark elf’s nose, breaking it and sending him plunging back into unconsciousness.

In a previous Running the Campaign column, at the beginning of Act II, I discussed the fact that I designed the second act to be triggered using two external events — events that originated from outside the domain of the PCs experience and, therefore, could not be anticipated or prevented. (Or, at least, were extremely unlikely to be anticipated or prevented.)

The first of these events was the letter from Shim that arrived in Session 18, informing the PCs that (a) they had hired him during their period of lost memories to find a magical artifact and (b) he’d found it. The second, of course, happens in this session, when Tavan Zith, the Saint of Chaos, appears on the street.

The first trigger is designed to hook the PCs into the Night of Dissolution campaign, which revolves around the cults of chaos and was designed for 4^th to 9^th level characters by Monte Cook.

Similarly, the second trigger leads to the Banewarrens, another campaign created by Monte Cook, this time designed for 6^th to 10^th level characters.

As I’ve described previously, it was my desire to run the Banewarrens that was the primary impetus for the entire campaign. But when I read Night of Dissolution, I was fascinated by it. Which campaign should I run? Could we wrap Banewarrens and then run another Ptolus campaign featuring the Night of Dissolution?

Then I realized that I could just run both of them at the same time!

And although I significantly expanded both of them, these two campaigns remain the primary spine(s) of Act II.

Taking published adventures like this, combining them, and adapting them to the PCs is something I discuss in more detail in The Campaign Stitch. Often when I’m doing work like this, I will be looking for opportunities to create crossovers between the adventures — to tie them together and make them a single, unified whole.

For example, there are a number of factions in Ptolus interested in the Banewarrens and how they can be exploited. It would be perfectly natural for the chaos cults — another powerful faction active in Ptolus — to also become involved in the intrigues around the Banewarrens.

But I actually made a specific decision to NOT do that.

Instead, I used a different technique: The Second Track.

I knew that both the Banewarrens and the Night of Dissolution would be big, complicated conspiracies that the PCs would have to work to unravel. If I fully crossed the streams and truly merged the conspiracies, there was a real risk of the whole thing collapsing under its own Byzantine complexity. It would be hopelessly confusing.

But I knew I didn’t actually have to do that in order to get the same effect! When the PCs first started interacting with the two conspiracies, the players wouldn’t have the information necessary to distinguish them. So, from their perspective, the conspiracies WOULD be merged together, and they’d be utterly overwhelmed.

This meant that:

• I, as the DM, didn’t need to deal with the complexity. (Because I could clearly distinguish between the two conspiracies and wouldn’t’ get confused.)
• Once the players figured out how to distinguish the conspiracies, they would ALSO no longer be confused. The complexity would fall away and the disparate mysteries would cleanly resolve themselves.

That’s the beauty of the Second Track.

With that being said, however, I didn’t want these two halves of the campaign to be completely siloed from each other. That would feel pretty artificial. So I looked for some subtle crossovers (which I knew would also seed the players’ initial confusion between the two threads).

I came up with two.

First, as we saw in Session 20, the PCs discovered the Prophecy of the Saint of Chaos in Pythoness House (a site associated with the chaos cults):

The Saint of Chaos shall return and the Banewarrens shall ope their maw. And the name of doom shall be Tavan Zith.

Tavan Zith wasn’t a big focus point for the chaos cults, but given his unique curse, the idea of him being an avatar of chaos made perfect sense. (And if the PCs did end up tipping Tavan Zith’s arrival to Wuntad or the other chaos cultists, they could easily interpret it as a sign that their time had come and the Night of Dissolution was foreordained.)

Second, I identified the Pactlords of the Quaan as a faction who could potentially intersect with both the chaos cults and the Banewarrens. (We haven’t met them yet, but they’ll be showing up shortly.) The short version is that they were big enough that I could have one wing of the Pactlords tangentially involved with the chaos cults and a completely different set of Pactlords focused on the Banewarrens. Just enough crossover that the PCs would find references to the Pactlords in both places and assume a connection, but distinct enough that they wouldn’t cause the two threads to collide with each other.

This division between Chaos Cults and Banewarrens, I should note, is quite explicit in my own notes: There’s a binder of chaos cult-related adventures and a completely separate binder of Banewarrens-related adventures. A really clear example of how you can have absolute clarity in your own perception of the campaign, while nonetheless miring the players in delightful enigma.

NEXT:
Campaign Journal: Session 28A – Running the Campaign: One Job, Multiple Patrons
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 27D: THE MAW OPENS

September 7th, 2008
The 15th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

AT THE CITADEL OF MIGHT

Dominic and Agnarr, however, had continued on to the Citadel of Might. At first glance the Citadel appeared to be a rather intimidating fortress, but a closer inspection as they drew near revealed most of the apparent fortifications to be nothing more than a façade.

Entering the building they found a rather confusing scene: Various pieces of furniture had been broken and a half dozen or so unconscious bodies had been leaned up against the nearest wall.

Agnarr grabbed the nearest upright person. “What happened?”

The man shrugged. “They just went crazy. We had to knock ‘em out.” He finished propping up the last of them. “Now, what brings you to the Order?”

“I received a letter. I’m here to confirm that I’m still alive.”

“That’s definitely better than being dead,” the man grinned. “What’s your name?”

“Agnarr.”

“Ah. Right. I remember sending that letter this morning.”

“What was the last job I got here?”

“You having problems getting paid?”

Agnarr shook his head. “I’m just curious.”

“You don’t remember? Did you take one too many blows to the head?” the man laughed. Agnarr laughed with him.

The man checked the guild’s records. “Actually, it looks like you never took a job here. But you’re all paid up. And your locker’s squared away. And you’re alive. So you’re good to go.”

“Locker?”

The man showed Agnarr to a locker in a small side room. Agnarr waited until he left and then smashed the cheap lock.

The first thing that caught Agnarr’s attention was his original greatsword – the blade that had been given to him by the people of his clan. He lifted it with a grin, feeling the familiar weight settle comfortably into his hand.

Putting the sword aside for a moment he looked through the rest of the locker’s contents. There was a suit of padded armor (suitable for practice sessions), a sheaf of blank parchment, and several charcoal sticks suitable for writing. These latter items seemed to confirm that Agnarr had been literate during their period of lost memories.

“You know,” Dominic said. “If you learned it once, you could probably learn it again.”

Agnarr grunted noncommittally. He put the padded armor on and found it to be a perfect fit. And since he’d already put on the armor, he decided to go sparring for a bit. But this left him vaguely unsatisfied as he easily gained the upper hand against the cheap hired muscle making up most of the crowd there.

After an hour he put the armor away, secured the greatsword in his bag of holding, and then returned to the front desk.

“The lock on my locker’s broken. Can you get that fixed?”

“Huh. It must have gotten busted up during the brawl. We’ll get that fixed right up for you.”

THE SHORTEST INTERROGATION

Once Dominic and Agnarr returned to the Ghostly Minstrel, Tee gathered all of them – except for Elestra who was still out prowling the streets somewhere – in her room. Once there, she and Agnarr revealed the identity of the dark elf and reminded the others of the prophecy they had seen in Pythoness House:

The Saint of Chaos shall return and the Banewarrens shall ope their maw. And the name of doom shall be Tavan Zith.

“What does that mean?” Elestra asked.

“I don’t know,” Tee said. “Let’s ask him.”

She pulled Zith out of her bag of holding. Tor bound him securely. Tee blindfolded him. And Dominic healed him.

As soon as Tavan Zith awoke, however, they all felt a sickening, bursting feeling erupting in their chests. Agnarr instinctively smashed the pommel of his sword into the dark elf’s nose, breaking it and sending him plunging back into unconsciousness.

But it was already too late. Dominic’s skin was toughening into a thick, fibrous, sickly grey substance. Tee, meanwhile, suffered a quivering pulsation starting somewhere in her ribs – she felt uncontrollable power surging through her limbs, trying to tear its way out of her.

Then, suddenly, she felt Tor’s hands on her shoulders. “Fight it, Tee! You can fight it!” His voice was strong and reassuring. They were an anchor. She found herself focusing on those words and pulling away from whatever was fighting to tear itself loose from inside of her.

The moment passed.

Agnarr looked at Dominic. “Is that another sign of Vehthyl?”

Ranthir examined Dominic and determined that the effect wouldn’t persist for more than an hour or so.

But now they weren’t sure what to do. Zith was clearly dangerous. And he seemed to bring with him grim tidings. (“Although our saint did kick their saint’s ass,” Agnarr said, patting Dominic on the shoulder.) But they didn’t have any way to control him. Or even to question him, apparently.

The best idea they could come up with was to perhaps toss the entire thing into Lord Zavere’s lap, although Tor pointed out that they had often done that before. Perhaps too often.

While they were mulling the issue over, however, a knock came at the door. Tee quickly gestured for Tor and Agnarr to get Zith’s body hidden out of sight behind her bed.

They opened the door cautiously… and found Tellith standing on the other side.

“Jevicca Nor is waiting downstairs. She’s asked to speak with you. She says its urgent.”

“We’ll be right down,” Tee promised.

Agnarr looked down at his acid-stained clothes and panicked. He couldn’t let Jevicca see him like this. He headed to his room to change. Tor and Dominic stayed in Tee’s room to watch over Zith. Which left Tee and Ranthir to head downstairs and meet with Jevicca.

As they came down the stairs into the lobby, however, they were taken by surprise at the sight of her. Jevicca looked imperious and stood taller than they had ever seen her before. There was a palpable difference between this Jevicca and the Jevicca who came to enjoy the camaraderie of the common room.

“What is it?” Tee asked.

“I’m here on behalf of the Inverted Pyramid. We should speak in private,” Jevicca said.

They took her back up to Ranthir’s room. Agnarr joined them on the way. Once the door was safely shut behind them, Jevicca began to speak…

… AND THE BANEWARRENS SHALL OPE THEIR MAW

“Those who know the true history of the world speak of five ages: The Age of Stars, the Age of Gods, the Age of Sorcerers, the Age of Dragons, and the Age of Man.

“In the dawning years of the Age of Sorcerers – countless millennia ago and long before any written history you have ever read – the Great Sorcerer Ptolus founded the first city of Ptolus. Little is now known of the sorcerer Ptolus, but Ptolus had an apprentice named Danar.

“In time, Danar eventually became a Great Sorcerer in his own right and near the city of his master he built a fortress named Mosul Pearl. The world was troubled then, and Danar became distressed at the great evil that seemed to be growing in its strength. And so Danar sought to rid the world of its corruption. He studied the secrets of  evil artifacts, objects of dark power, trapped essences of vanquished fiends, demonic relics, and even the last vestiges of particularly horrible diseases. He named these “banes”, and he began to gather them from all corners of the world.

“Danar did not seek to destroy them, however. He believed that, if destroyed, the evil of the banes would be released back into the world and manifest again in some other form. Destroying banes would only begat new banes.

“Instead, Danar constructed a vast catacomb beneath the fortress of Mosul Pearl. He named this place Tremoc Korin – the Banewarrens. Within its well-warded vaults he sealed the banes, locking them away from the world for all time.

“But Danar’s goal was folly. Concentrating so much raw hatred and despite – so much darkness and evil power – in a single place was a terrible mistake. The earth itself, no longer able to tolerate the concentrated evil that the banes represented, thrust Tremoc Korin away from itself – creating a tall, impossibly high and narrow spire atop which Mosul Pearl still stood.

“Danar, however, was undeterred. And, in time, the evil he had gathered seeped into his soul. Danar was corrupted himself and his soul turned to darkness. He became the Banelord, transforming his castle to the dark keep of Jabel Shammar, and using the banes he once strove to keep out of evil hands to spread his own evil across the land.

“Ptolus and his city were destroyed by the Banelord. And then, having succored his strength, the Banelord attacked the civilized lands for thousands of leagues in every direction, raining destruction down upon the world and all its inhabitants. In the end he was defeated by an alliance of Great Sorcerers and god-touched heroes who were marked by the Sigils of the Pantheon. From this alliance the First Conclave of the Sorcerer-Kings was born.

“But the Spire remains. Jabel Shammar remains. And it has been long believed that the Banewarrens remained… sealed and impregnable beneath the surface of the earth, but still filled with ancient evils. Many – including Ghul himself – have come to Ptolus seeking a way into the Banewarrens so that they might claim that power for themselves. But they have always failed. The terrors of the Banewarren have remained lost.

“Now, however, we believe that has changed. We detected the surge of wild magic you encountered in Oldtown earlier today and our subsequent divinations reveal that a path has been opened into the Banewarrens. We don’t know how and we don’t why, but we desperately need to find out what’s happening. And we’d like you to do it for us.”

Running the Campaign: Trigger & Stitch – Campaign Journal: Session 28A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 27C: The Saint of Chaos

Now that the half-orc was more of a curiosity than a threat, the crowd that had been scattering in a rapid retreat instead began to draw closer. But just as it seemed as if they had successfully calmed the situation, another man suddenly grabbed at his eyes. Bolts of blue lightning shot out of them, striking several people in the crowd. The thick stench of ozone filled the air. At least a half dozen people collapsed.

Panic erupted once again. In the midst of it, Tee was suddenly struck by the sight of a dark-cloaked man striding boldly down the street and seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him…

Crowds.

In an urban campaign, you find them cropping up all the time:

• on the street
• in a busy market
• at the local tavern
• storming the necromancer’s castle with pitchforks

Handling dozens or hundreds (or thousands) of NPCs individually would, obviously, be a hilariously bad idea. So you generally want to figure out some way of handling the entire crowd as a single entity.

Often, of course, a crowd is just part of the set dressing: You’re in a shopping mall and it’s filled with people. That’s pretty straightforward. At most you’ll want to think about what effect the crowd might have on the actions of the PCs and significant NPCs in the scene. (For example, the PCs might need to make a DC 10 Dexterity (Acrobatics) check to race through a thick crowd; on a failure, the crowd is treated as difficult terrain for them.)

But sometimes the Green Goblin comes swooping in on his glider and starts throwing pumpkin bombs around. Now combat has broken out and the crowd is panicked.

What often seems to happen is that the crowd is described as running and shouting (while having little or no effect on how things play out), and then they completely clear out as quickly as possible to simplify things even more.

But where’s the fun in that?

When I was preparing the riot scene in Session 4 of the campaign, I prepped a full set of rules for handling crowds and mobs in D&D 3^rd Edition. After some refinements from playtesting them, I posted them here on the Alexandrian way back in 2007.

Those rules are useful (with advanced options that help when the crowd is the focal point of the scene), and you could use them as a basic structure for fashioning similar rules in other games:

• What is the effect of moving through a crowd? (A moving crowd?)
• What happens when a crowd panics?
• How can the PCs manipulate crowds?
• What happens when the crowd turns into a mob? (i.e., a crowd that can take focused violent action, whether directed or random)

If you want to keep it simpler, though, I have a few quick rules of thumb for handling crowds.

First, give the crowd some basic characteristics so that it “exists” in the scene. I recommend:

• Making the crowd difficult terrain (or whatever the local equivalent is in your current RPG). As mentioned above, let the PCs make an Acrobatics check as part of movement to ignore this (by deftly weaving through the crowd).
• Having the crowd offer cover to anyone in it.

Design Note: These two factors have a nice balancing effect — the cover encourages a character to move into a crowd; the difficult terrain imposes a cost for doing so.

Second, put the crowd on your initiative list. In D&D, I like putting them at initiative count 10 (so that PCs might go before or after the crowd, depending on their initiative check). This is, if nothing else, a great way to make sure you don’t forget to include the crowd in the scene.

Whenever the crowd’s initiative count comes up, the crowd does something. This might be:

• Just a colorful description (which will help make sure that the crowd is a consistent part of the scene and doesn’t get forgotten about or glossed over).
• A bystander in the crowd being placed in jeopardy.
• A random character needs to make a saving throw or take damage.
• Make a saving throw or get knocked down.
• The crowd moves.

And so forth.

Make sure to have the crowd affect (or potentially affect) both NPCs and PCs.

Third, create a short list of crowd actions. These work like legendary actions in D&D 5^th Edition: The crowd has actions or reactions they take after another character’s action, and they can take X of them per round. (Let’s say three, by default.) The things they can do will be similar:

• Knocking people down
• Interfering with attacks (the jostle the archer’s arm, inflicting disadvantage on the attack roll)
• Making an attack against a character
• Moving

Et cetera.

Keep in mind that the crowd is not a bad guy, so these actions are a choice you’re making as the GM to model the crowd’s behavior. This also means that some crowd actions might actually be detrimental to the crowd. For example, a crowd reaction might be “1d6 bystanders get caught in the crossfire.”

NEXT:
Campaign Journal: Session 27D – Running the Campaign: Trigger & Stitch
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 27C: THE SAINT OF CHAOS

September 7th, 2008
The 15th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Tee didn’t argue with Ranthir. They returned to the Ghostly Minstrel and reconvened with the others, quickly describing what they had seen.

Elestra was more than happy to let the cultists fight amongst themselves. Agnarr, on the other hand, was still urging them to charge in the front door. “We’ll catch them by surprise!”

Tee was convinced that the insectoid creatures were going to be used in some sort of an attack on the Commissar, and their discussion turned to what their primary goal had become: Was it to shut down the project? To protect Iltumar? Or somehow do both?

Tor talked about his plans to take Iltumar out the next day. “If he’s looking for something more exciting, maybe we can offer that to him.”

“But isn’t tit possible he’ll just think we’re trying to control his life?” Ranthir asked.

“That’s right,” Elestra agreed. “Tell a boy not to do something and he’ll do it just to spite you.”

Tee, reflecting on the fact that Elestra was scarcely older than Iltumar, shook her head. “I got the impression that, if I left, I’d be hunted down and killed. Even if we could somehow convince Iltumar to quit, just pulling him out could still be dangerous.”

In the end, they decided to wait until the next day. Tee would take her shift in disguise at midnight. And if Tor could pull Iltumar away so that they could be sure he wouldn’t be on duty, they would try an assault on the complex.

“Without Tor?” Dominic asked.

“I’d prefer to have his sword,” Tee said. “But we need to make sure that Iltumar isn’t the line of fire.”

“Aren’t we worried about the giant insect things?” Dominic asked, clearly worried about the giant insect things.

“They were afraid of a moving curtain,” Tee said. “I’m not too worried about them.”

“If they’re easily startled, I’ve got a cantrip that can make dancing lights,” Ranthir said.

Dominic laughed. “Ah! Lights! Lights! Look out for the lights!”

Tee grinned. “Agnarr! Get away from those lights and hit those things!”

They all laughed. Even Agnarr.

MISSIVE FROM THE MIGHTY

There was a knock at the door.

Elestra answered it and found Tellith standing in the hall.

“Oh, good. Master Agnarr is with you,” Tellith smiled. “I have a message for him.” She held out a piece of folded parchment.

Agnarr came to the door, grabbed the letter, and grunted a thank you. Elestra thanked her as well and then shut the door.

As soon as the door was shut, Agnarr passed the parchment to Tee. She read it aloud to him.

Master Agnarr—

As we have not received word from you in several weeks, we are urgently seeking confirmation that you are not, in fact, dead. If this letter should reach your hand, please send us a couriered response indicating your continued good health.

The Order of Iron Might

Agnarr had no idea what this Order might be, but Tee was familiar with them. They were a guild of warriors based out of the Citadel of Might near the Arena in Oldtown. Tee had never been there, but she understood it to be a hiring hall of sorts for mercenaries, guards, and sellswords. She had some impression that Dorant Khatru, the Merchant Prince of House Khatru, served as the Order’s guildmaster.

“Do you think you joined them… before?” Elestra asked. “You know, when we lost our memories?”

Agnarr shrugged. “It’s possible.”

Links to their missing past had proven few and hard to come by. Tee was particularly enthusiastic about the prospect of following up on this one. She and Dominic both agreed to accompany Agnarr while he paid a visit to the Citadel of Might.

A KNIGHT’S TRAINING

Tor, meanwhile, had training to attend to. He headed into the Temple District. Sir Kabel met him at the entrance of the Godskeep and escorted him to the training field just outside the southern gate. There he was introduced to Sera Nara – a lithe and attractive woman with dark, copper brown skin. She wore her dark hair in a long braid down to her waist. The entire braid was tightly bound with bands of gold, and the tip was capped with a sharply-edged blade of mithril.

“Nara will be your instructor,” Kabel said. “I’ll have to leave Tor in your capable hands, Sera. I have to meet with Gemmell regarding the tourney rosters.”

Kabel went off about his business and Nara got down to hers. She adopted a practical, no-nonsense approach, but was clearly impressed with Tor’s ability with the blade.

“I practiced for many years,” Tor explained. “But these past few weeks it seems as if all that training suddenly makes sense.”

“Of course,” Nara nodded. “Your life has been at a risk. When the blood boils, the blade and body become as one. The heat of battle has made you a warrior. Now we will hone that ability into the skills of a knight.”

They worked hard. The session lasted for nearly two hours. Tor proved to be a fast learner, quickly mastering the rudimentary elements of the Order’s martial training.

“We perceive the world through sight and sound and touch,” Sera Nara said. “But all of us share a deeper connection with reality, as well. If you listen with your soul you can hear the Song of the World – the divine melody which links us all, man and god alike. Through the motions of his blade, a warrior’s body can harmonize with the Song. You will see your opponents without sight; hear them without sound; strike them without thought.”

When the training was nearly complete, Tor became aware that Kabel had returned. The knight stood a goodly distance from the practice field, but his attention was clearly focused on them.

Nara eventually finished. She complimented him again and told him to return to the field in two days. As Tor was gathering up his armor, Kabel made his way over to him.

“Master Tor. How was your training?”

“Exhausting.”

Kabel laughed. “Sera Nara is a demanding teacher. But these are demanding times. I think it’s more important than ever that you become a knight as quickly as possible.”

Tor smiled. “I would like that very much.”

“As would I.” Kabel returned his smile. “Now, a question. Do you know if Dominic has met with Rehobath again?”

Tor shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“That’s to the good,” Kabel said. “Hopefully this dark chapter can be put behind us soon. If all goes well, I will have much to tell you when you return.”

Kabel made his farewells. Tor was curious about his enigmatic parting, but all he could really do was wait.

THE COMING OF TAVAN ZITH

Agnarr, Tee and Dominic, meanwhile, had entered Oldtown on their way to the Citadel of Might.

They had just turned off Dalenguard Road onto Four Fountains Street when their ears were assaulted by sudden screams. They were crossing the mouth of Whipstone Street, and turning that way they could see the tightly packed crowd of the merchant road suddenly surging towards them. There were shouts of “Fire!” and “Run!”

Moments later, a half-orc tore into view. He was completely engulfed in flame, but – despite his own screams and the look of terror in his eyes – the flames didn’t seem to be hurting him. However, when the half-orc grabbed onto a woman near him – in what looked like desperation – the flames did burn her. Badly.

Their crisis instincts kicked in. Dominic threaded his way through the crowd, trying to reach the woman who had been burned. Agnarr, meanwhile, hurled a waterskin at the half-orc. This, however, simply burned away in a cloud of steam without having any effect on the fire.

Tee kept her distance, but shouted at the half-orc to stop. “How can we help? What’s happening?”

But the half-orc didn’t seem to hear her. “What’s happening to me? I’m burning! Help me! For the love of the gods, someone help me!” His voice was tortured with panic.

And then, suddenly, the half-orc’s flames pulsed brightly. Dominic, having drawn near in his efforts to help the woman, was scorched.

Agnarr, seeing Dominic hurt, lost his patience with the situation. He tried to knock the half-orc out. Unfortunately, his efforts only succeeded in making the half-orc even more panicky.

Tee could see that the situation was getting out of control. She ran down the street – getting close to the half-orc and practically shouting into his face. “Stop it! We’re trying to help you, but you have to stop it! You’re hurting people!”

Something in her sharply spoken words – or perhaps the sudden appearance of a lithe elfling directly in his path – shocked the half-orc out of his panic. He looked around the street, seeming to see the scene around himself for the first time. Then he sagged to his knees, his face taut with pain. “It hurts…”

But the flames still weren’t hurting him. Dominic, laid a soothing blessing on the woman who had suffered burns, and then – at Tee’s signal – moved in to examine the half-orc (albeit it from a safe distance).

Now that the half-orc was more of a curiosity than a threat, the crowd that had been scattering in a rapid retreat instead began to draw closer. But just as it seemed as if they had successfully calmed the situation, another man suddenly grabbed at his eyes. Bolts of blue lightning shot out of them, striking several people in the crowd. The thick stench of ozone filled the air. At least a half dozen people collapsed.

Panic erupted once again. In the midst of it, Tee was suddenly struck by the sight of a dark-cloaked man striding boldly down the street and seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him.

He seemed so incongruous that Tee’s suspicions were immediately tweaked. She headed in his direction and hadn’t gotten far before she saw him brush past an older woman in her fifties. The woman almost immediately started floating up into the air. “Help! Help me! The demons have me! They have me by the arms! Help!”

“Agnarr!” Tee called back over her shoulder. “The man in black! I think he’s doing something!”

Agnarr tried to push his way through the crowd, but didn’t seem to be catching up. Finally he lost his patience and bellowed. “OUT OF THE WAY!”

The crowd parted before him, allowing Agnarr to abruptly catch up to the mysterious figure and swing away with his greatsword.

“Oh!” Tee gasped. “But I’m not even sure if he’s actually causing… Never mind.”

With some preternatural sense, the man barely managed to duck out of the way of Agnarr’s blow. Then he whirled, revealing a muffled face, and cried out in an imperious voice, “You dare to molest me, miscreant?”

… but then he caught sight of Agnarr’s imposing figure and apparently decided that flight was the better part of valor. He whirled away and took off running down the street, displaying an amazing agility at slipping through the now near-riotous crowd trying to escape from the chaos in the street. An elf he passed suddenly screamed and collapsed to the ground.

Agnarr was momentarily startled at the abrupt flight. He was even more startled in the next instant to find himself beginning to secrete acid through his skin. It burned sharply, but he gritted his teeth through the pain and ran after the man, ducking narrowly to avoid one of the blasts of lightning scorching through the air with the scent of ozone.

Dominic, meanwhile, was studying the half-orc. The flames weren’t burning him, but there was no denying the pain that the half-orc was feeling. In fact, the flames seemed to be feeding on him in some way – consuming his fundamental vitality in much the same way that a soul-thirsting undead might.

Tee was having some success in following in Agnarr’s wake, but she was losing ground. In frustration she pulled up short, notched an arrow in her bow, and took a shot.

It clipped the dark-clad figure’s shoulder as he ducked around the corner at the far end of the street, still desperately trying to escape from Agnarr’s blows.

Tee renewed her pursuit. As she neared the corner herself, she came upon a dwarf staring at the wall. Globules of black energy poured from his eyes… and a giant octopus appeared half-embedded in the wall, its long tentacles thrashing limply. Tee cursed silently, but decided it was a problem she’d have to deal with later.

Dominic, meanwhile, had figured out how to sustain the rapidly deteriorating half-orc… but his efforts weren’t actually curing his condition, only alleviating it. While he was trying to figure out a more permanent solution, several members of the city watch came running up from Four Fountains Street. Spotting Dominic’s robes, one of the watchmen approached him. “Have you got that under control?”

Dominic looked up. “Umm… More or less.”

Agnarr finally caught up with his quarry. At the last possible instant, the dark-clad figure whirled in an effort to defend himself, but Agnarr’s blade cut too fast and too strong, viciously slashing through the figure’s chest.

Grasping at his bleeding torso, the man doubled over. “You would dare the wrath of Tavan Zith?!”

And then Tee’s arrow took him in the throat. Zith collapsed to the street, his breath gurgling and blood bubbling from his wounds.

THE AFTERMATH OF TAVAN ZITH

But the chaos he had wreaked did not abate: The half-orc still burned. The lightning-eyed man was still firing randomly in all directions.

And the dwarf Tee had passed before was still summoning fell creatures into their midst: A massive hound – standing taller than a man’s shoulder (although perhaps not as tall as Agnarr’s shoulder) and wreathed in living shadow – appeared suddenly at the corner of Whipstone Street. Directly behind Tee. The crowds started running in a new direction.

Tee cursed and ran down the street towards Agnarr.

Before she could get there, however, Agnarr had reached down and grabbed the dying Zith by his hair. Hauling him up he was shocked to discover the features of a dark-skinned elf – just like Shilukar. But the shock didn’t stop him from cutting off his head.

Tee came skidding to a halt next to him. “Agnarr! What are you doing?”

“It didn’t work!” Agnarr, gasping in pain, held up one of his acid-coated hands.

“We needed to question him!”

“And we will.” Agnarr took off the iron collar from Ghul’s Labyrinth and snapped it around the dark elf’s neck. “Dominic should be able to heal this.” He grimaced again at the pain from the acid. “I think you might need to kill me… Maybe that would stop it.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t love to do that,” Tee said. “But—“

“But I have work to do.” Agnarr nodded. Then he grinned. He turned down the street and ran back towards where the hound of shadows was spreading panic.

Tee, meanwhile, grabbed Zith’s body and stuffed it into her bag of holding.

Meanwhile, back by Dominic, the city watchmen were spreading out. They formed a perimeter around the lightning-eyed man and – before Dominic realized what they were doing – shot him dead.

“For the glory!” Agnarr charged through the panicking throngs. The suddenly flaming sword had a less than calming effect on the crowd, but it caught and tore at the insubstantial flesh-stuff of the shadow hound.

The beast – in terrible pain – threw back its head and howled. It was a sound born from the stygian pits of utter darkness, carrying in its very note a primal terror. It echoed off the buildings of the city. At its passing, a wave of supernatural fear swept over the entire block. People began scattering in complete panic. Even Tee couldn’t resist its effects, joining the screaming throngs in mindless flight.

The dwarf responsible for summoning the strange creatures suddenly leapt onto Agnarr’s back. “No! Leave it alone you! You mustn’t hurt it!”

Agnarr managed to shrug off the frenzied dwarf. Then with a final swing of his greatsword he finished off the shadowy hound. He twirled back towards the dwarf— And found an axe swinging at his head.

He narrowly turned the blow so that it only cut lightly into his armored side and then slammed the flat of his own blade into the dwarf’s face. The dwarf slumped into unconsciousness, his face badly scorched from the flames of the blade.

Back at the other end of the street, the city watchmen had thrown a rope around the floating woman and were pulling her back down to earth. Once her feet touched the ground, her condition seemed to pass. But the half-orc was still burning and his condition was deteriorating rapidly.

Dominic, however, had seen that death seemed to have stopped the lightning-bolts being hurled from the eyes of the other man. He was able to heal the man’s wounds and return breath to his body. And when he did, the condition didn’t reappear.

As he was finishing, the commander of the watchmen approached him. “I know you… You’re the Chosen of Vehthyl.”

“Umm… Yes.” Dominic was already uncomfortable with this conversation and it hadn’t even properly begun.

“What caused this?”

“I’m not… really sure.”

Agnarr came trotting up. “I am.” He quickly explained about the “sorcerer” who had been responsible for releasing these dangerous abilities.

“And what happened to him?” the commander asked.

“He escaped,” Agnarr said without missing a beat. “He ran that way.” He pointed in a plausible direction.

Dominic thought that the only way to cure the half-orc might be to kill him and then bring him back from the dead. The half-orc was terrified by the idea, but agreed. Before Dominic could say anything else, Agnarr thrust his flaming sword straight into the half-orc’s chest—

And a massive explosion ripped its way out of the half-orc’s chest and gouted its way down the length of the entire block!

An unnatural pressure wave preceding the blast threw Agnarr clear of it. He sat up and shook his head. “What happened?”

Fortunately the street had already been virtually abandoned and the members of the city watch had been far enough away that they weren’t injured.

The only thing left of the half-orc, however, was a desiccated corpse… Which, thankfully, no longer burned. Dominic had to work for several minutes – stitching sinew and regrowing skin through the sheer lifeforce of his faith – but he was finally able to restore some semblance of life to the half-orc’s pain-wracked body.

Agnarr, meanwhile, was stripping out of his armor in an effort to prevent it from any further damage. The acid-scarring hadn’t caused any structural damage yet, but his clothes were already badly scarred in many places.

“We’ll have to get you some new clothes,” Dominic said.

“Why?” Agnarr said. “There’s just a few holes!”

“It’s… umm… more about where the holes are located.”

Like the half-orc, Dominic only saw one solution. In a controlled fashion he stopped Agnarr’s heart, killing him. Then he immediately used his skills and divine gifts to revive him.

It worked. The acid stopped oozing from Agnarr’s pores.

TEE RETURNS TO THE SCENE

By the time her head cleared, Tee found herself on High Road, looking down off the Oldtown cliffs towards the sea. She cursed under her breath.

After a moment’s thought, she set off at a running pace towards the Ghostly Minstrel. Once there she barged into Ranthir’s room.

“Mistress Tee?”

Without saying a word she pulled Zith’s corpse half out of her bag of holding and then stuffed it back in. He was on her heels as she turned and headed back out into the street.

They were able to grab a carriage in Delver’s Square. As they rode back towards Oldtown, Tee filled him in on what she’d seen. “We’re not sure what we’re dealing with. I’m hoping you’ll be able to figure it out.”

“I’ll do my best.”

By the time they reached the ramp leading up into Oldtown, however, the watch had sealed the upper city.

It turned out that the bay of the shadow hound had affected a wide swath of the city. And in the tightly-packed confines of Oldtown the effects had been devastating: Riotous crowds and madhouse conditions. There had even been some reports of people throwing themselves out of windows in blind panic.

Tee, however, managed to identify herself as an associate of the Chosen of Vehthyl. Fortunately the guards stationed on the roadblock had apparently heard reports that Dominic had been helping them at the source of the disturbance. They let Tee and Ranthir through the blockade.

When they arrived back at the scene, they discovered that Dominic and Agnarr had already left. Everyone who had been directly affected by Zith’s attack had been quarantined on Whipstone Street. Things were firmly under control, but the watch commander was more than glad to accept Ranthir’s mystical expertise.

After examining those affected, Ranthir identified the effect as an uncontrolled explosion of sorcerous potential. “We all have a connection to the same arcane forces that I use in the casting of my spells,” he explained. “In some that connection is stronger than in others. It appears that in these victims that connection has been exploited. In layman’s terms, it’s been ripped open – power flows through it in a completely uncontrolled fashion.”

This meant little to any of them, but Ranthir was able to confirm that all of them had been fully cured.

But the dwarf kept screaming about the voices whispering in his ears. And the elf who had collapsed was now babbling in what appeared to be glossolalic tongues.

“So what’s wrong with them?” Tee asked.

“There’s no lingering effect of a mystical nature,” Ranthir said. “But whatever happened to them must have broken their minds. Killing them won’t help.”

The commander of the watch nodded sharply and then turned to one of his men. “We’ll send them to Mahdoth’s Asylum, then.”

Suddenly, out of the elf’s mad gibberings, Tee’s sharp ears caught a meaningful phrase: “The lance… The lance is coming…”

She had said something like that herself once, as her mind emerged from madness. The similarity struck her to the soul.

There was nothing else to be done there. Ranthir and Tee returned to the Ghostly Minstrel, hoping to find the others there ahead of them.

NEXT:
Running the Campaign: Playing to the Crowd – Campaign Journal: Session 27D
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index