(CoC-1) The Sanatorium

DAY 1 – THE ARRIVAL


The group made up of:

Former WW1 fighter ace / private investigator Horatio Campbell
Military man and now Antiques Dealer Reginald Appleton
Ex-Boxing champ “Metal” Mike McDowell
And
Colorado Smith, treasure hunter.

Set off by motor boat from Rockport, Maine at about 7pm on the 21st of June 1921.  By the time you reach North Island the sun has just dipped below the rocky cliff on the South Eastern side of the island.

Your pilot, Ebenezer Waite had nothing but good things to say about Aldous Brewer on the trip over.  Well into his eighties, he has spent nearly all his life in and around the sea.  In his youth he travelled the globe and now is semi-retired and performs handyman chores around the island.

When you finally dock on a small, rickety jetty, Ebenezer offers to carry your bags up the winding stairs to the sanatorium at the top.  When declined, he shrugs his shoulders, mumbles something under his breath and nimbly jumps back into the boat and goes about securing it for the night.

It is near dusk and a light fog rolls in, as it does every night at this time of the year.  The shore rises up steeply from the end of the dock and the sanatorium, its lights warmly aglow, can be seen high above.  From its vantage point atop the southern cliffs of the island, the huge Georgian Revival house seems safe from sea and storm.
A flight of stones steps cut into the steep hill lead to the sanatorium.  The stonework is recent and makes for a safe, though tiring climb.

Knocking on the front door elicits a response from a elderly female voice from inside, “Hold your horses, I’m comin’ I’m comin’

The door is opened by a lady in her late sixties with gray hair standing out on end, dressed in a shapeless, faded, print shift. “Good evening, my name is Blanche, how can I help you?”

The words have only just left her mouth when from out of nowhere a small, bedraggled looking man runs silently from the right hand corner of the porch leaping at Reginald with an angry twinkle in his eye.  Within seconds, he is sent sprawling on his back into the dirt at the bottom of the stairs.

“Leonard! Leonard Hawkins! You get back inside at once!” Screams Blanche, grabbing Leonard by the ear and dragging him back inside the property.

“Apologies for Leonard sirs, he’s a little uncontrollable at times.  Please follow me.”  Pushing Leonard through the doorway into the property, she turns “Dr. Brewer’s taking a nap upstairs.  I’m in charge right now, you can wait in there.”

Pointing to a door marked Library, then marches Leonard off towards a door at the back of the foyer, she turns and says “Please stay out of the living room, we've had a little accident in there.  I’ll be back in a minute to serve refreshments.  Coffee OK?  Good”  She turns and leaves without waiting for an answer.

The library is pretty much what you would expect, numerous books line the walls and it is comfortably furnished.  On a couch sits a young woman, engrossed in what turns out to be an illustrated version of Dante’s Inferno.  When approached and spoken to she curtly replies “Shhhh! We’re in the library” and says no more.

Not even Colorado's best 'moves' could distract her from her book.

Thirsty and with no liquor on hand except for Reginald’s private flask, the investigators decide to ignore Blanche’s request to stay out of the living room and enter the room anyway.

Again, this room is well furnished, although some object have been knocked off of a table and there is a lamp lying on the floor.  Extending from behind the couch are two white-stockinged legs, toes turned down.

The legs it turns out belong to Nurse Ames, whose body lies face down on the floor, in a large pool of congealed blood, closer examination reveals a pair of sharp, silver scissors protruding from her left eye socket.  Much to the distress of ex-boxing champion “Metal” Mike McDowell.

The investigators quickly return to the library just as Blanche enters the room pushing a trolley laden with finger sandwiches and jugs of coffee.  When questioned she explains Dr Brewer is still having a nap upstairs and shouldn't be disturbed.  She then leaves the room from where she entered.

After about 30 minutes the investigators decide to explore the downstairs area a little more thoroughly.  They find little of interest in the dining room, with seats set for twelve and a large well stocked kitchen.

Further investigation of the downstairs Patients Wing reveal 5 single rooms for various patients,

(Blanche, a Colonel Crandall Billings, gender fluid Henry Barber and a Mrs Randolph)

A laundry where investigators see the back door has somehow been blown outwards and left in splinters on the ground.  Lying with her back against one of the industrial washing machines they come across the badly disfigured body of Melba, the maid.

Her eyes stare blankly in front of her, her mouth frozen wide open.  Her upper body seems to healthy but her feet and legs are withered brown sticks – dried dead limbs, split open like old and rotting leather to expose the bones within.  “IT! IT!” is all she can mutter before dying of suspected cardiac arrest.  Much again to the distress of ex-bare knuckle boxing champion “Metal” Mike McDowell.

On closer examination, Colorado Smith notices some strange looking burn marks on the floor near the door, almost unnoticeable in the failing light.

In the desk area, the investigators came across yet another corpse, this one occupying a chair in the Desk Area of the lower floor.  The body slumps in the chair with its head twisted around to face backwards.  It hangs down at an awkward angle.  “I think he’s dead” murmurs Colorado as Mike starts turning a little green around the edges.



THE BASEMENT

Investigating the basement reveals  a large boiler, storage areas, a bedroom, four more patient cells, and a restraint room.  Three of the four patient cells are occupied.  One by Leonard Hawkins, who again, attempts to manhandle Reginald but is instead knocked unconscious by Mike who had, by now almost had enough of this place.

Another room is occupied by Darlene, the young lady who was reading in the library earlier.

The last occupied cell is that of Allen Harding, on entering the cell the investigators immediately notice that he has been clawing something on the wall in such a frantic manner that his fingertips are nearly worn down to the bone.  He is currently huddled in the corner, streaked with blood and shaking violently.

“It’s coming!” he screams “It’s got them and it’s going to kill us all!”

“You, you, you, then youuuuu” he screams, pointing a bloody stump of a finger at Reginald before losing consciousness.


SECOND FLOOR

By now it was getting late, but the investigator decided it was best to try and find Dr Aldous Brewer and try and get to the bottom of this.

On the second floor the investigators found rooms, that had been set aside for their stay, the bedrooms of Nurse Ames, Dr Aldous Brewer (which was unoccupied) and Nurse Bobby.  “The stiff fella from downstairs” according to Smith.

The second floor was also home to a shock therapy room, which looked like it hadn't been used for a while, a bathroom, an examination room and what turned out to be a room straight from Mike’s nightmares, which left the undefeated, bare-knuckle, heavy weight boxing, ex-champion squirming on the ground in a foetal position whimpering like a child.



Dr Brewer’s Office….

The room contains the mutilated corpse of Dr Aldous Brewer.  The furniture of the office had been pushed back against the walls and Dr Brewer apparently staked out on the floor hand and foot.  An unidentifiable cryptic symbol painted on his forehead in his own blood.  It appears his arms and legs were removed one-by-one with a bloody bone saw which in now lying on the floor.  The doctor had also been disemboweled and huge pool of blood soaks the oriental rug on the floor.

“I need a drink” muttered Reginald, reaching into his inside coat pocket, only to find it empty.

“Leonard Hawkins, you son of a bitch!”

Once everyone had calmed down and ‘Metal’ Mike had been escorted from the room, the remaining investigators went about searching Dr Brewer’s office.  Among the clutter, the result of an obvious struggle, they found a locked safe and various files and reports of the current patients at North Island Sanatorium.

The Sanatorium it seems was ‘home’ to seven patients and six members of staff including Dr Brewer. The investigators decided to focus mainly on the file of Allen Harding.  A poet, an alcoholic and a drug abuser.  It seems he was the focus of most of Dr Brewer’s present research.  His notes include reports of horrifying dreams, voices in his head and while undergoing therapy Harding has seemed possessed, taking on odd mannerisms and speaking in a voice distinctly not his own.  There was also a book of poetry, written by Allen Harding, horrifying to say the least, reading it left Colorado Smith shaken and a little stirred.

They also found a journal of Dr Brewer’s among other letters, papers and shorthand notes.  In a drawer in the Doctors desk they also found a loaded .38 revolver and a box of shells.  “This will come in handy” thought Horatio, who had inexplicably left his own firearm at home, although he had packed ammunition.

The investigators had decided to call it a night and where about to settle down when they heard loud, blood-curdling screams coming from outside the mansion.  Piling into the garden they listened out for any re-occurrence of the sounds they had just heard, but all was silent except for the sound of waves crashing into the rocks and the occasional seabird screeching overhead.

Day Two

The rest of the night passed uneventfully.  The investigators woken by Blanche ringing a bell signalling it was time for breakfast as if nothing untoward was occurring.  Although the weather outside threatening rain the investigators decided it would be best to explore the island immediately for what had been making that terrifying noise the night before.

They started by exploring the outbuildings of the sanatorium.  There were five buildings in total. A shack that was obviously belonging to Ebenezer Waite, he wasn't home but upon a quick search of his cabin they found a letter describing a ruined boat and warding amulet.  Also among the outbuildings they found a maintenance shed, the maids quarters, a diesel generator shed and an outhouse.  While traversing the short distance from the rear of the sanatorium to the gravel track Colorado caught glimpse of a strange object lying in the grass near the destroyed rear doors.

On the ground surrounded by the same strange scorch marks he had seen in the laundry room, he came across the scorched body of a small cat.  Most of it’s fur had been burnt off and it crumpled to dust at the slightest touch, leaving behind only a small collar with the name tag ‘Cicero’.

The investigators decided to follow the gravel track towards the North East part of the island.  After a few hundred meters they came to what could only be described as a stone table, overlooking the cliffs on the Eastern edge of the island.  On closer examination the table resembled more of a sacrificial altar.  Soaked with blood while various parts of human anatomy litter the area.  Insects, birds and small mammals have been attracted in great numbers and the stench is overwhelming.  Again, Mike started to feel a little uneasy.

After carrying on along the path they eventually came across the remains of a camp, obviously belonging to the graduate student from Princeton, Mr James Shelley.  The camp was an obvious scene of a struggle and some amount of bloodshed.  The tent was ripped and all of Mr Shelley’s belongings scattered over the ground.  Among the debris the investigators found some drawings of a strange lighthouse, an abundance of bird drawings and a loaded .45 pistol in a knapsack along with James Shelley’s journal.

Fearing the worst for Mr Shelley, the group quickly continued up the path until from behind a copse of pine trees they came across a lighthouse, almost a perfect match for the drawing found in the camp some five hundred yards behind them.

The well worn building looked abandoned, the light on top obviously inoperative.  The investigators decided to take a look anyway, on entering the lighthouse they found the ground floor to be completely empty with a distinct lack of any kind of life.  Not even an insect scurried across the floor when they entered.  At the far end of the room was a steep wooden staircase that led up to a closed trap door in the ceiling.  Horatio, being the strongest and least scared moved over towards the stairs, climbing them carefully.  Then, with a burst of expletives he barged the stuck trapdoor open with all his might.

Sticking his head through the opening he was confronted with something he had never seen before.  Filling the entirety of the second floor of the lighthouse was a slowly roiling mass of gassy spheres, nearly transparent but with a shifting, oily iridescence.  Red veins of light flickered through its mass.  The lights started to pulsate as Horatio stood awestruck, his mind struggling to comprehend what his eyes where seeing. 

Without warning a large, oily tendril struck out at Horatio’s head.  In a blink he managed to duck down, avoiding the thrusting tendril above his head, he could feel the prickling heat it emanated. 

His fortune and lightening reflexes that saved him from a terrible fate also caused the trapdoor to shut and sent him flying backwards down the steep, wooden steps winding him temporarily. 

“Run fools” he shouted while clambering back to his feet.

And they did.

(RoT-8) Boulder's Deep!

One trendsetter of a dwarf!

In the Misty Forest, no-one can hear you scream. Allegedly. And that's where our heroes are - deep in the forest, standing on the edge of a lake, with a waterfall leading into it, knowing that a dragon's lair lies behind the waterfall. What happens next?

Starring, in order they sit around the table:

Rodin Halfbeard, (played by Lorne) the dwarven axeman, and trend-setting city dwarf.
Venmir, (played by Brett) an elven clergyman, and new found man of empathy.
Nyvan, (played by Jason) an elven knight, sick of having his kills stolen.

Sigurd, (played by Iain) a travelling swordsman, finisher-off of beasties and unintentional answerer of riddles.

Nandrin the Naughty, (played by Hilton), the elven mage, and inadvertent doomer of them all.

and The DM, (played by Alex), who loves to comment in blue. And writes this blog. He's also a bit of a git and likes to make life difficult for his players.

Back to a full compliment of adventurers (welcome back, Hilton!), the party are now taking a short step away from the official module for a bit of a dungeon crawl, courtesy of a 1990's AD&D module....the name of which will remain secret!. 

The heroes stood in the large open cave, as a large green dragon flew away, it's rider's taunts ringing in their ears.

"Say hello to my traitorous father, Melandrach!"

The figures dwindled into the distance. Their reactions were varied (see RoT-7) and they rested briefly, before heading back into the Misty Forest, and then making their way back to Waterdeep.

There they immediately headed for the monastery where they knew they could find Leosin Erlanthar. He was summoned and turned up in mere moments, as usual. He always was quicker than they thought he would be. 

After he listened patiently to their story, he told them how Nandrin had been sent into Limbo to find his missing agent. That was nearly three weeks ago - and there had been no sign since. They believed he was dead. The party contemplated continuing without their friend, and it was not a pleasant thought.

At that exact moment, as if by divine providence, a portal burst into existence before them. Sigurd and Venmir pulled out their weapons. A figure flew through the portal and fell to its knees on the floor. It was Nandrin, bedraggled, dirty and tired out. Before the heroes could prepare for what followed, the portal closed with a loud pop.
He explained how he had found the missing giant children, they were in the Undermountain, far below the surface, on a level long lost. He told them of a portal, hidden in the sewers, open only for a few days a year - and as luck would have it, it would be open soon. All he knew was the the place they were looking for was once home to the Melairkyn dwarven clan, one of the oldest clans in history, long gone for the last 400 years or more. Little else was known.

They prepared for the trip, knowing they were heading into danger to fulfill their vow to Blagothkus, ex-master of Skyreach Castle, to save his children from the clutches of the cult.

They made their way into the sewers and headed for where they knew the portal would be - 100 paces south of a junction not far from the centre of town. As they approached, they saw a sparkling in the sewage water. While the others waited to check the area, Sigurd and Venmir ran forward into the sparkling and disappeared from site. The others waited - and then a few seconds later, they entered as well.

Sigurd and Venmir found themselves in a large room, filled with rubbish and sewage. There was a large octagon on the floor and its outline shone with an unearthly light. It faded from few. they looked about - on each wall of the four in the room was a door. One looked in far better condition than the others. On the floor near it was a series of large keyholes. 

A few moments later, the light flashed up again and a group of carrion crawlers appeared in the room. They immediately began to snuffle through the waste, ignoring the party. A few seconds later, and the rest of the party appeared. 

After a brief discussion, they headed for the larger door, before Sigurd suddenly stopped. "We should head West!" he said. He seemed quite sure - and there was no reason to argue, so they did.

Behind the door was a passageway which lead to another door. When they passed through, they found themselves in an impressive corridor, thirty foot wide with lifelike statues of dwarves, dressed in real armour, and torches on the walls which flickered into life as they walked in. The shadows danced back along the walls like a cloak.

At the end of the hall were stairs the width of the corridor, leading up. they walked up them to find themselves in an even longer room. The walls were covered in hundreds of murals, showing dwarves mining, drinking, fighting, hunting and forging. At the far end was a massive pair of stone doors - in the wall above it was a stone face, and near the ceiling were two huge silver gongs. Nearby were a paid of dwarven statues, each wielding a massive silver mallet, poised to strike the air.

As they approached the door, the eyes in the stone face, made up of huge diamonds, opened and a voice came from the mouth:

"Honor Dumathoin and the clan that fell before your first beard by answering with truth and good dwarf-sense. Step forward into the light and reveal to me what tells no lies, answers
many questions, and inhabits all, but lasts only as long as patience."

A light shone upon the floor. 

The party spent a considerable period of time thinking for an answer - and they tried many; gold, ale, truth, stone, and loyalty - and each time the face frowned - before Rodin stood in the light with his axe raised in salute, silent. The voice spoke again.

"I extend my greetings, should you be earnest pilgrims. I extend nothing to those who would defile this place. Step beyond, and gain enlightenment, dwarf-friend. If you seek riches and plunder over knowledge though, to enter is to become a lonely secret hidden under the earth."

The doors opened.

They walked into the next room, which was even grander than before. Easily 150 feet across, and the same high and wide, Several massive dwarven statues stood in the corners, and a huge statues of a dwarven deity, 60 foot tall stood on the far side. Massive stairs lead up on the far side. 

As they walked into the room, the doors behind them slammed open, and a roiling cloud of smoke and lightning followed them into the room. A booming voice filled the room:

"Have you been lonely, little dwarves? Here are some friends to accompany you and to teach you it’s not wise to thwart the will of he who rules the Underhalls!"

A massive pair of hands reached out through the cloud, and clapped with a huge boom, sending lightning into the room. One particularly large arc slammed into the floor and materialised into three giant forms, each with two heads. The doors behind them slammed shut, and portcullises fell down over the stairways.

The creatures lumbered forward, and one of the huge silver dwarf statues leapt at it, striking it with a huge axe. The other two charged the party.

Battle ensued and the heroes quickly demolished their gient foes, but not before one of them slashed into Rodin time after time, wounding him seriously. They turned as the last one fell, to see the dwarven statue block a wild blow, then decapitate both heads of the ettin with one mighty swipe. It walked over to the heroes and stood over them. It turned to stare purposefully at the wall. the portcullises at the far end lifted.

One of the murals then came to life, a troll turning its face to look at the party, and its head turning into that of an elderly but striking dwarven lord. It spoke.

"Well, it seems the curiosity of surface folk has brought some strife to my temple. You have fought well, young ones, and I entreat you to continue. Old Halaster has infested the temple and tombs with all manner of monstrosities and I have need of your help. You shall be well rewarded by both Dumathoin and myself, provided you fight bravely. I need your words that you bring only aid not harm to us here! Swear thus, and be called dwarf-friend!"

They all swore (some reluctantly!).

"Very well said, young heroes. Come hither and aid Johanna in the library. She seems to have her hands full there. We are both long out of the habit of fighting, and in need of your aid to protect the legacy of clan Melairkyn. As tokens of our immediate thanks, you will find something that can help you cooling by the forge. You have been given a great responsibility this day: Take care that it leads not to ruin. Dumathoin has decreed that I
may not aid you in this, disturb me not until your foes have been vanquished or taste Dumathoin’s wrath."

"We should head for the forge immediately!" said Nandrin.

"We should aid Johanna!" said Venmir.

Most of them agreed with Nandrin, but said nothing.

Up the stairs and across various landings, they found themselves standing in front of a huge golden portcullis. Two rust monsters nibbled on the bars, and a number of disembodied hands clutched at the bars. As the heroes came down the stairs, the hands leapt at them!

There was a furious battle, swift an one-sided, apart from one hand which leapt up and clung to Rodin's face. Before the dwarf could react, Venmir spun on his heel and sent an arrow flying through the hand, but it was so powerful a shot that the arrow went straight through, leaving a huge hold in the dwarf's cheek. He said nothing, but scowled at the cleric.

Nyvan found a switch for the gate and it lifted. Behind was another large room and, after they had killed the second rust monster (it followed the first into oblivion only moments before), they waited to catch their bearings. The sounds of combat came from the north. They set off at a run along a corridor with several doors until they came across two near the end - the first lead to a small empty room, but the second lead to a huge library, fillwed with books, scrolls, tomes and disembodied hands, ripping everything to pieces. A female human mage stood on the far side, flinging spells at the hands. As the party appeared, she begged them for help and once more there was a brief and bloody batch of hand-to-hand combat (pun intended).

When it was all over, she thanked them and asked them to help her tidy up, which they did - apart from Venmir, who pulled out a chair and watched the others - and Rodin, who didn't like books without pictures. They spoke of their quest, but she was little help, explaining she was only there to chronicle the world of the Melairkyn dwarves.

"And you, sir, a city dwarf by the looks of you." she said, approaching Rodin.

"I am no city dwarf!" said Rodin, mortally offended.

"But...you dress like one. And you have a strange choice of facial hair," she added, pointing to his half beard and half head of hair (a remnant of an encounter with an imp months ago).

"NO! I AM A MOUNTAIN DWARF!" he replied angrily.

"I'm so sorry, but you also dress like a city dwarf...in fact, I'd say you're from Baldur's Deep. I mean Gate, Baldur's Gate. Sorry....." she trailed off and blushed.

Rodin blushed and kicked at an imaginary rock on the ground. The rest of the party burst into laughter.

Nandrin soon found a large travelling spellbook and looked at the locking mechanism, which was remarkably similar to the books he used. Before he could do anything, Johanna spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. There was once three of us - and one opened that particular book, or at least tried to - and it exploded, killing two of my friends!"

"Oh!" replied Nandrin, "I'd best go and open this outside then,"

The others shook their heads, but the mage could not be stopped. He walked out of the room. When he returned a few minutes later, he looked a little pal. 

"We might have a problem...."

He explained how the book had opened easily using his keys and some magical prowess. The book, however, had slammed shut after only the first page - and he had realised they were personal memoirs of Khelben Blackstaff (once one of the masked Lords of Waterdeep, husband of Laeral Silverhand, and one of the mightiest mages to have ever lived), then disappeared, leaving only a scroll in his hands. A scroll which read:

"Some secrets are not thine to uncover, and that is why they are hidden in remote places. Have a care to mind thine own business in the future, lest thee annoy me. Remember, thine names are known to me.” Startlingly, the names of the entire group was written on the scroll.

The others raged, but Nandrin took it lightly. 

"At least he has his book back now!" said the elf.

Johanna cleared her throat and pointed at the shelf. There sat the book.

Nandrin cleared his throat.

"Anyway, where is the forge, there are gifts there for us? And do you have any stuff that could help us in our quest?"

The heroes followed Johannas instructions, and walked back down the corridor to the forge. There, in the cooling tubs, they each found a small battleaxe charm on a silver necklace. They each put it around their necks, and were surprised to see that the charms phase through their clothes and armour until it rested against their skin. 

The party smiled to one another. As ever, the world was a mysterious place and wherever they went, it only got stranger.

(RoT-7) 'Elf and slay-fty

"Oh, shut up!"

In the Misty Forest, no-one can hear you scream. Allegedly. And that's where our heroes are - deep in the forest, standing on the edge of a lake, with a waterfall leading into it, knowing that a dragon's lair lies behind the waterfall. What happens next?

Starring, in order they sit around the table:
Sigurd, (played by Iain) a travelling swordsman, .
Venmir, (played by Brett) an elven clergyman, . 
Nyvan, (played by Jason) a elven knight, .
Rodin Halfbeard, (played by Lorne) the dwarven axeman, .
Nandrin the Naughty, (played by Hilton), the elven mage, (absent this evening).

and The DM, (played by Alex), who loves to comment in blue. And writes this blog. He's also a bit of a git and likes to make life difficult for his players.

A man down, but knowing next week we'll be back at full strength, the party have done what they always do - prepare to fight a dragon without actually doing any preparation at all. 

The heroes stood by the water, staring at the waterfall.

"Perhaps a rest?" asked Venmir.

The others agreed and they walked back a few hundred yards into the forest to make a camp for the night. As they rested, the elves took watch, as usual. During Nyvan's watch, he was quietly challenged by a voice close to his back. It threatened him with impalement if he moved, but it spoke in elven - and they soon revealed themselves as elven rangers, scouting the area for cultists. 

They were aware of the dragon, but refused Nyvan's request that they help fight the beast. 

"We're hear to scout, not fight a dragon!" was the reply.  The rangers quietly left without waking any of the others. When Nyvan told them about their visitors, they mostly laughed at his inability to notice people in the woods. He shrugged it off.

However, as they prepared, he heard the sound of beating wings approaching. He gestured and whispered, "Hit the deck!"

Rodin, Sigurd and Venmir dropped to the floor, but Nyvan ran and jumped into a nearby bush, making a massive amount of noise. Fortunately, the dragon didn't hear and they soon headed for the waterfall.

They found their way behind the waterfall and stood in a cave. The cave lead further into the darkness, and the walls were slippery with damp. A little further in, they found a ramp heading down - it was slippery and wet, but there was no visible means of descending. They discussed how they would proceed from here. As they stood there, they heard a small change in the sound of the water descending behind them. Rodin called for silence with a sharp shush.

"What are you on about?" asked Sigurd.

Rodin looked horrified.

A soft, deep, melodious voice came through from the tunnel behind them. 

"Well hello in there. I can sense you, little dwarf. You're just in time.....for lunch!" a loud sniffing noise came from the hallways behind them.

With a whimper, Rodin leapt onto the ramp and slid down, quickly picking up pace before he slammed into the floor. One by one, the others followed, hitting the floor on either side.

The party clambered to their feet and dashed along the hallway, hoping it was too narrow to let a dragon pass. The consensus was unclear, so they dashed down the hallway and found themselves in a large chamber - with a shelf high up one wall to the south, a passageway north and a deep clear pool of water surrounding a small isle in the middle. 

They considered their position for a while, before heading north. They walked into a room with half a dozen cultists and battle was quickly joined. Arrows flew and the heroes charged the cultists. The party were far stronger, and they quickly cut down the majority of their foes, except for one - better equipped, who held a small coloured gem in a pendant which fired poisonous gas in a condensed ball which thudded into Venmir's chest. The cleric stumbled backwards and his companions leapt forward to finish the cultist leader off. 

Before they could rest, another band ran into the room and the situation happened again - only this time the leader flung a ball of fire from his pendant, once more hitting Venmir. The cleric was outraged, but could do little beyond sending arrows across the room. Eventually this group were also defeated. 

The party continued their search and ignored the bodies piled up on the floor. They also passed by a store room. They stumbled upon a fancy, well-appointed bedroom and they stared in amazement at its presence. The floor was covered in expensive carpets and pieces of art were scattered around the room, and the walls were covered in expensive tapestries. On the far side was a fancy bedroom, with a chest at the base of it.

Nyvan strode across the room, joking about how the chest was bound to explode to coat him in acid, but it was like fate beat him to the punch, and he triggered a glyph of protection hidden on the floor, showering him in acid. He howled in anger. 

The chest itself had a series of love letters, addressed to Neronvain, a name which Nyvan and Venmir recognised as the name of King Melandrach's exiled and now-deceased son. He had been removed from the Misty Forest for treachery and soon thereafter he had been slain in battle against the King's guardsmen. The letters were from a female, and talked of how his banishment was unfair and that she still loved him. The party spent some time discussing how someone would have these letters, but before they could decide on what was going on, they heard a gentle cough at the doorway.

They spun around to see an elderly elf, poorly-dressed and obviously mistreated, standing, shoulder sagging, in the doorway.

"Milords, greetings. Welcome. Thank you for coming, milords. My lord would know your names, milords."

"What is YOUR name?" demanded Venmir.

"Irrelevant, milords."

"Well, Irrelevant, what does your master want?" asked Sigurd.

"Milords, he only wishes to know your names, milords."

The party introduced themselves.

"Thank you, milords." said the elderly elf as he walked from the room. The party followed, eager to see the lord of the caves.

The elf walked slowly, but they soon emerged into the large room with the pool. On the ledge stood a dozen elves, armed. On the isle in the middle of the pool stood a massive green dragon, a cowled man stood in front of it. The dragon was picking at its teeth with a massive bone. The old elf shuffled off to one side.

"Greetings," came a silky voice form under the cowl, "Be aware that you are not welcome in my home. My friend and I do not want you here."

Sigurd stepped up and spoke. Despite his wily attempts to turn dragon against rider, the rider laughed and then patted the dragon on the neck.

The dragon, looking intently at the party, raised a quizzical eye-ridge.

"Why can I only smell you, dwarf? What is it that's protecting the rest of you? Hmmmmmm?"

Rodin stepped back involuntarily. 

"Ummm...no, there's no reason why . Maybe I just....oh bollocks!" said Rodin, as his mind wandered back to the druid in the woods, and the necklaces she had weaved for them.

"I'm sorry fellas!" he whispered, realising he had been the one to bring the dragon back in the first place.

The rider's silky smooth voice interrupted his apology.

"Come, my friend, show these intruders how we welcome those who are not invited..."

The dragon looked up, and the party heard a sharp intake of breath. 

They ran.

They turned the corner into the room with a dozen dead cultists lying on the floor. A cloud of poisonous gas filled the corridor behind them. They ran to the far side, and waited.

Within a minute, they heard the sound of running feet. They prepared themselves and then a dozen elves ran, stumbled and strode into the room. They charged the heroes. Among them was a warrior, armoured, several well-dressed nobles and many commoners but at the back stood a mage. 

The battle was long and hard-fought. The mage flung spells and the others fought to the death, and several of the heroes had suffered serious wounds when the elven knight finally fell to his knees. As the spell of the dragon was lifted, he bared his soul to Nyvan, offering his blessing, but before he could finish, he was beheaded by Rodin.

"Oh, shut up!" he mumbled.

Sigurd ran off to check the room with the dragon - it still held a the dragon and its rider. He hurried back to the others. They decided to retreat to the bedroom, and plan from there.

After they briefly rested, they prepared to go back out and fight the dragon. Just as they were standing, Nyvan heard a noise from behind a wall. They pulled down the tapestry and after a brief search, they found a secret door. they burst into the next room. It held a small number of religious items, including a shrine to the elven god of loners (among other things).

The main point, however, was the figure in a cowl stood by a door at the far side.

The party rushed him and he turned and ran, gesturing at them as he went.

Nyvan got to the door first, just as a cloud of gas flew out from the rider's hand. He stumbled and fell, clutching at his throat, Sigurd and Rodin ran past him, covering their noses. Venmir stopped to help his friend along the passageway.

Sigurd and Rodin burst into a huge chamber. They watched as the rider leapt up 15 foot into the air and slid around the dragon's throat to settle at the base of its neck. He flung back his hood. Underneath was a remarkably handsome elf.

"Well, interlopers, I would prefer not to risk my life, or that of my friend, in pointless battle. Give my regards to my traitor of a father!"

He patted the dragon on the side of his neck, and the two of them were bathed in poisonous gas. The pair of them were seriously injured, but survived. The others rushed in and watched as the dragon lifted itself from the floor with powerful blasts of its massive wings, and disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.

Sigurd cursed. Rodin picked a small ball of concentrated poison breath from his ear. Venmir clung to Nyvan, and Nyvan clung to Venmir.

Whatever could happen next?

(RoT-6) Bitches and Witchcraft!

"Do it yourself, lazy city elf!"

Having survived the Sea of Moving Ice and a second Council of Waterdeep, the party have decided to take their next steps in the Misty Forest - home to three of the party, and bound to be full of snooty elves, according to Rodin!

Starring, in order they sit around the table:
Sigurd, (played by Iain) a travelling swordsman, .
Venmir, (played by Brett) an elven clergyman, . 
Nyvan, (played by Jason) a elven knight, .
Rodin Halfbeard, (played by Lorne) the dwarven axeman, .
Nandrin the Naughty, (played by Hilton), the elven mage, (absent this evening).

and The DM, (played by Alex), who loves to comment in blue. And writes this blog. He's also a bit of a git and likes to make life difficult for his players.

Once more the party are at less than full compliment - and this is likely to continue for at least a couple weeks due to various reasons. Anything more than two down and we don't play D&D that night. 

The heroes were preparing to leave when Leosin Erlanthar approached.

"My lords," he asked, "I must ask for your time, before you leave. We had hoped to locate your giant children before you left, but our endeavours have not been without danger. Already several agents of the Harpers are dead. One of our top agents, he contacted us to say he was bringing details of their location home - he was using only a basic sending, so could not elaborate. His teleport, however, failed and he is trapped in limbo. Our mages have not the skill you do, Nandrin. We need your help."

Without hesitation, Nandrin joined Leosin. He waved goodbye to the others and left the inn.

The others made their way to the Misty Forest. It was an uneventful journey, and they seeon found themselves deep in the forest. As its name suggested, the forest was nearly always shrouded in mist - and visibility was rarely more than a few hundred at best.

they made their way to Altand, the village that Delaan Winterhound had told them had somehow survived a dragon assault, when all others had been destroyed.

The village was a typical elven village of the forest. Over two levels, on the ground were a few basic buildings, and most of the village was up in the trees, accessible by ladders, ropes and moving platforms. Bridges linked the trees. People were moving around the village like they were in a daze.

They stopped a hunter, who they came to find out was named Heremvor. He explained how he had run when the dragon attacked, fearing for his life and having heard so many stories of the previous attacks. He could only tell them how the dragon had attacked on the ground, then followed up by attacking the upper levels. He directed them to the home of Galin - up in the trees.

They stood on the platform and Venmir called to a passing villager.

"Here, you, activate this platform for us."

"Do it yourself, lazy city elf." replied the villager - and before Venmir's outrage could manifest, the elf left, leaving Venmir spluttering in impotent rage. He worked the mechanism himself.

On the second level, they walked to Galin's house, where they met his sister-in-law, Mirron. She told her stories of the night of the battle which matched Heremvor's. She told them how Galin was out in the woods, preparing the village's defences.

The found Galin in a clearing, his pet raven nearby as usual. 

He told his story, dispassionately, and refused to take any credit for his actions, only telling them how he had done as any warden would have to defend his village - and that the dragon and its cultist allies had retreated totally unexpectedly. He could give no reason why - but made it clear he had not seen a rider on the dragon, despite some of the others disagreeing.

They returned to the village, and setup in the village temple - the priest having been eaten by the dragon at the start of the battle.

Venmir was soon surrounded by villagers, seeking his blessing and healings. The other sat around, laughing at his discomfort, the gruff cleric more used to striking down the foes of Corellon Larethian rather than providing succor to his followers.

That night, they set watch and early in the morning, Nyvan saw a man flit off into the woods. He woke the others, but they were too slow and could not track the shadow. Quickly, Sigurd transformed himself into an owl of the tawny variety, and he dashed off after the shadow. He found it on its way back - and followed it. When the shadow, heavily hooded, cursed when it saw the other heroes and made its way upstairs by a back way. It went into Galin's home.

The next day, they confronted Galin, and found his reasons week. He had been out scouting, he had been looking for signs of the cultists, and he took to the forest for solitude. Sigurd was particularly mistrustful. The others, while not so vehement, agreed.

The party pretended to leave Altand, and headed out in the direction that Galin had gone the night before. Before long, they found a clearing, where half ot he clearing was flattened, as if by some massive beast. They hid in the bushes and waited.

Late in the night, they saw Galin, with his raven, approach and sit on a log near the other side of the clearing. He waited for an hour, then left. 

They searched the area, and found nothing. After a long period of arguing, they decided to wait for the full day to try and see what happened the next night. As they waited the next day, they were approached by Heremvor, who argued with them about their presence. Eventually, Venmir let slip that they suspected Galin. Heremvor sped off towards Altand. The others followed, but were slower than the forest-wise elven hunter.

By the time they arrived back at the village, Heremvor had his bow aimed at the warden's heart. He passionately questioned Galin but got nowhere, until the heroes got involved - and after a lengthy questioning, including rebuttal and counter-accusation, Galin admitted the truth!  

The warden had watched the village priest and his wife and children die moments into the battle and, when faced with the dragon and its elven rider, he found his bravery deserting him. He agreed to help the dragon and its lord with knowledge of local defences in exchange for his life and for the remainder of his village. The dragon had kepts it words and retired from battle.

The villagers cried their outrage - most of them shocked and horrified. None more so than Heremvor, who let loose his shaft which buried itself in Galin's chest. The warden collapsed, dead almost instantly. Heremvor fled, followed by the accusations of the party - convinced he was part of the conspiracy.

That night, they decided to question Galin. Venmir prepared his spell, and in the morning he cast it. The corpse sat up, ready to answer the questions prepared by the party.

"Where is the dragon?"
"I don't know."

"Where is the cult?"
"I don't know."

"Which villages have you given information on?"
A list was reeled off.

"Where will they attack next?"
"The nearest village."

The corpse settled back to the dais. They cursed - and they argued some more about what to do next.

Eventually, they decided to head off into the forest, in the direction that the dragon had flown away. After most of the day's travel, they heard a cry for help from ahead. Warily, they moved forward, where they saw an elderly woman, trapped underneath a fallen tree.

Sigurd, Nyvan and Venmir ran forward to help. Venmir overseeing, while Nyvan levered a branch under the tree. Sigurd tried to lift it with his hands. Rodin hung back, carefully creeping forward, examining the ground for traps, distrusting the woman.

Just as the tree lifted a little, Venmir pulled the woman free. She jumped to her feet and the tree lifted itself off the ground, just as two other trees on the side of the road moved forward to flank the woman.

"Bitch!" cried Venmir. 

"Heroes at last!" cried the old lady, "Even the cowardly dwarf and the potty-mouthed cleric. How many might fall back in fear at the sight of a stranger in the woods, or think first of their own safety before helping another? I grant you my blessing. May your hearts prove true where others fear to tread."

With that, she deftly built a number of necklaces from flowers which grew in her hair. She placed them around the necks of the heroes and, before they could speak, she turned herself into an owl of the snowy variety, and flew away.

They looked at each other in wonder, apart from Rodin, who tore the necklace from around his neck and stomped it into the floor.

"Witchcraft!" he cried.

And they marched on.

Not long after, they found themselves surrounded by strange webbing, which was so thin it could barely be seen. Sigurd shouted a warning and they were beset by massive spiders and strange beasts which Sigurd named Ettercaps.

The battle was short and violent and the beasts lay dead.

They moved further into the woods until they could hear the sound of a waterfall and they found themselves before a large waterfall, running down from a cliff face.

"Behind the water...." said Sigurd.

And they prepared themselves.

(RoT-5) Tantrums under the ice...

"I'm going to kill every man, woman and child up there!"

Our heroes have located Maccath the Crimson - famed sage and she most knowledgable about the Draakhorn. Protected by trolls and surrounded by kobolds, what is she doing here, why hasn't she left and why is she so grumpy? All questions that will be answered tonight - it just depends on whether you're listening or not!

Starring, in order they sit around the table:
Sigurd, (played by Iain) a travelling swordsman, .
Venmir, (played by Brett) an elven clergyman, . 
Nyvan, (played by Jason) a elven knight, .
Rodin Halfbeard, (played by Lorne) the dwarven axeman, .
Nandrin the Naughty, (played by Hilton), the elven mage, (absent this evening).

and The DM, (played by Alex), who loves to comment in blue. And writes this blog. He's also a bit of a git and likes to make life difficult for his players.

Once more the party are at less than full compliment - and this is likely to continue for at least a couple weeks due to various reasons. Anything more than two down and we don't play D&D that night. One man down, neck deep in a dragon cave and !

The heroes stood before Maccath, wondering at her strange attitude. Her most recent words echoed in their ears, "Are you here to save me, or to kill me? Either way is much the same to me."

They spent some time discussing the sage's position with her. She had been captured years before, and at first Aurantathor, Old White Death, decided to kill her, but when he found out she was a skilled mage, he took her captive, to train her as a rider for his partner, who lived in seclusion, hundreds of miles away, distraught at the death of it's human many years before. 

She was also working on dozens of magical manuscripts that the dragon had taken from the Arcane Brotherhood and other mages many years ago - while he was a skilled mage, he still required assistance translating the tomes - and here Maccath excelled. Except that she was keeping the work deliberately slow, to keep the inevitable from happening - either her death, or her enslavement on a more permanent basis.

The dragon had even set up a number of wards, meaning Maccath could not leave the island or send any warnings or requests for help - and even if she could, what mage would travel a thousand miles to rescue her, a sage who dabbled in ages-old artifacts and whose magic was of no great merit.

They found out about the layout of the lands. The dragon's real lair was below, in caves running under those the heroes had already traversed. There was two entrances, and the dragon could use them as much as anyone else. However, he more often used some underwater tunnels to get in and out of his lair. He also had unknown servants down there.

She was surprised to hear that they were intending to fight the dragon. Many had tried, and all had failed - none had come close. The party told stories of their bravery and slowly won over Maccath. She agreed to help, as long as they promised to help her escape, and return the magical artifacts of the Arcane Brotherhood to Luskan. They agreed.

"I have something here to help you..." she said, and as she reached behind her, Venmir tensed, fearing betrayal at the hands of yet another human.

Yet the betrayal came from her kobold attendants - as they scarpered at high speed - one made it past the heroes, and one was tackled by Sigurd. Before the other could escape down the ramp, he staggered to his knees, both an axe and a javelin deep in his back. The other, when questioned, admitted he was just trying to warn his companions about the treachery of Maccath. The party tied him up.

She gave the party a magical ring, the better to defend agains the cold of the dragon's breath. Rodin took it. 

To Venmir, she gave two arrows of dragon-slaying. Nyvan's eyes lit up when he heard what they were.

"So, how do these arrows of dragon-slaying work?" he asked. There was a moment of silence before Maccath spoke slowly.

"You shoot a dragon with them and it hurts very, very much." she smiled benignly. "With a bow!" she added, to get her point across.

Nyvan's face grew red ,"No, I know what an arrow is, I just wanted to know how they're different!"

The others laughed, and Nyvan fumed into his cup of watered down wine. "Stupid arrows..." he muttered.

------------------------------------

They mvoed through to the Scriptorium, to prepare to drop down into the dragon;s lair. They reseted for the night in MAccath's tent, protected by her spells from being found by the beasts of the ice caves.

Before they dropped down, they all drank their potions of cold-resistance, most straight away, although Nyvan took some convincing - having to be told three times by Venmir.

Down the rope they dropped (and by dropped, I mean that Venmir and Sigurd actually dropped off the end, taking a small amount of damage). they found themselves on an ice shelf with several large ice boulders blocking the view of a huge room. Nearby, the outline of a dragon lay on the ice - surely this was one of Auranthantor's resting spots! They decided that rather than spread themselves throughout the lair, they would wait for him here.

They split into two groups, elves on one side, Sigurd and Rodin on the other. They settled in to wait, prepared with more potions, just in case. They were lucky, however, and after nearly 45 minutes, they heard the sound of a massive beast moving towards them. 

They heard heavy claws, scraping against the ice, and the sound of heavy footsteps. The sounds echoed from the walls all around, and it was impossible to tell where the beast might walk up onto the shelf. They each moved, some in one direction, others in another, and then back again, as the sounds reflected and disguised the beast's true movements. Sigurd had  moved around his rock - but when Rodin tried to follow him, he found the human had disappeared from view - invisible! Nyvan and Venmir froze where they stood - so mistrusting of their own senses, that they could not bring themselves to move in any direction at all.

Aurantathor moved up to his usual sleeping spot, but as he stepped between the two large rocks not far from the edge of the shelf, something tickled his senses. He took a step forward, and his head snapped around to the right - two elves stood cowering behind the rock, their eyes wide in fear. Aurantathor raised himself back to rain ice and death down, but their fear was fake! The more slender of the two fired off two arrows, as quick as lightning, and they tore into gaps between the dragon's scales. He roared in pain - these were no normal arrows. Oh how they burned! He heard footsteps behind him, and glanced around to see a dwarf rushing for his flank, but he ignored him...and took a deep breath.

Venmir and Nyvan were moments later engulfed in a torrent of ice, snow and freezing air. Even with their magical resistance, they were chilled to the bone, and they struggled to stay standing. 

Sigurd and Rodin struck at the beast from behind, opening wounds in his sides. Nyvan and Rodin, despite being nearly overwhelmed by the sheer size and sight of the beast, struck at him bravely. The great white dragon flung his wings outwards, sending Nyvan and Venmir flying backwards, knocking them to the floor. The creature lashed at the elves with his teeth and claws, intent on killing the one who had struck him with the evil arrows. 

Sigurd and Rodin drove their blades through the beasts' armour. Venmir clambered to his feet and ran behind the rock, to hide from the beast. Sigurd stood, and the beast once more unfurled it's wings, bleeding from many wounds, knocking everyone in sight either to their back, or in Nyvan's case, further along the floor. All except Sigurd, who watched as the beast used the power of its wingbeats to launch itself into the air and fled up the tunnel they had come down. 

As the beast left, it sent a chilling warning back down the passage.

"We will meet again!" 

Sigurd raised his sword in triumph. Nyvan pulled himself to his feet. Rodin rolled over, so he could get to his feet easier. Venmir peeked around the side of the rock, hoping the dragon was gone. His hopes were met.

---------------------------------

They made their way back up the chute they'd descended from. The dragon had dragged their rope with it, and it took some bardic magics from Sigurd, turning himself into a snowy owl and flying up the chute, to get the rope ready. 

At the top, Maccath waited. She congratulated them and confirmed that the dragon had left the island. She gathered the books of the Arcane Brotherhood and they stored them in Venmir's Bag of Holding. They made preparations for leaving and made their way back to the chutes in the ceiling which lead to the village above.

The main entrance, which they knew lead to a hole underneath the planks in the village hall above, was their first point of call.

They debated for some time on the best way to get up to the entrance - and after fighting the urge to set the village alight with a flaming arrow, Venmir chose a rope arrow, and then, after much struggling, he dragged himself up the tunnel. He had one hand free, the other clinging to a dagger barely dug into the ice, when his frantic banging on the planks was answered. An ice hunter stood above him, his bow ready and an arrow pointed at Venmir's face.

"Stop pointing your bow at me you savage, and fetch someone who can speak a proper language!" roared the patience-less cleric.

The hunter stared at him dumbly, and as he mumbled something in his own tongue, Bonecarver, the village Shaman walked into the room. She approached warily.

"Ahh, you escaped. Where is the dragon?"

"Gone." replied Venmir.

"Really? Where to? And for how long?"

"It will never return."

"Again, really? How do you know this?" enquired the shaman.

"We have an expert on dragons below. The woman we sought. She knows....."

"She knows nothing! She is a pedlar of antiquities! And you are lying to me! Always with the lies!"

"You're a fine one to talk!" cried the cleric, "you deceived us more than once! And you...." his voice faded away as the shaman ordered the ice hunters to block up the hole again. Venmir fumed, swearing to kill everyone in the village.

He returned downstairs and told the others what happened. Sigurd shook his head a lot.

They made their way to the other entrance they knew of. After much trouble, and an amazing outburst and subsequent sulking from Nyvan ("I'm sitting right here and I'm not moving!"), they eventually found themselves face to face with the shaman again.

There was a brief argument between her and Sigurd, before the heroes left the iceberg, never to return. Despite their offer to help move the villagers to the greenlands, the shaman refused. The lands of green meant nothing to the ice hunters - and this bleak landscape was their land. Venmir muttered all the way to the ship about murdering everyone in sight, but refrained from killing "every single ice hunter who lived here".

On the way back to Waterdeep, they stopped briefly at Luskan, dropping off the books and Maccath the Crimson. The Lords of the Hosttower promised their support for the return of their sister.

Their journey continued.

They soon found themselves back in Waterdeep - and on the dock waited Leosin Erlanthar. He listened patiently to their stories, then lead them to the Palace, where another Council meeting was planned.

-----------------------------------------

The Second Council Meeting was not as long as the first. Lord Dagult NEverember had been replaced by Lady Laeral Silverhand, and a new woman sat on the Lady's left - she was as beautiful as any they had ever met, and even the dwarf felt a twinge of desire, despite her lack of beard. 

They debriefed the council on what had happened in the North and South, receiving both praise in some parts and damnation in others.

They heard of two new areas their assistance was required. In the Misty Forest, dragon raids had left scores of elves dead - and the new lady at the table was an envoy from the metallic dragons - the Council had decided that the heroes would be their envoy to the good dragon council.

As they left, they heard how the Harpers had located the children of Blagothkus - in Undermountain - a labyrinth of caves and monsters underneath Waterdeep. 

This left them three options; Misty Forest, Dragon Council or Undermountain.

And they chose to visit the land of the elves....