D&D - 2

I can't say that I was very happy about this development. Instead of quickly tracking down the Baron's sister and her kidnappers, we were stuck staring at a stone door with odd markings on it. It had a couple lines written in common on it: "Three keys to unlock the gate/ Three races to reveal thy fate." It had more writing below that, in what appeared to be abyssal, the language of the Nine Hells. Rath and Azraiel assured me that it said the same thing as the lines in common. Below all the writing were three indentations in the stone. One was shaped like a cog from a clock, one was shaped like a lizard's footprint, and the third was shaped like a skull. I could only presume that they were the "keyholes" for the keys mentioned.

Jackle impetuously reached forward to shove open the door, only to be thrown back into the air about twenty feet. So much for brute force. Little Max put on his slippers of Spider-Climb and began to scale the tower. He noticed some windows about sixty feet up and tried to pry one open. Clearly, the owner of the tower didn't want just anybody bursting in on him, since Max began to fly backward away from the building. Fortunately for him, he'd picked up a magic cloak from amongst the items we recovered in the dragon's hoard. This particular cloak can sprout wings at the wearer's command, so Maxwell began to flit around up in the air. He shouted down that he'd noticed something off in the distance and began to fly towards it.

As he was gallivanting about, Rath explored the area around the tower. We were standing on a bridge of sorts over a moat. Beyond the moat was an area of patchy grass, enclosed by a stone wall that ran the circumference of the tower. There were three evenly spaced gaps in the wall, and one of them led off in the direction that Max was flying. A second gap was directly behind us and led into a forest of very large trees. Or rather, it led onto a path that was straight as an arrow for as far as the eye could see, and on both sides of the path lay a forest of very large trees. Walking out directly from the third gap would lead through miles of grassland and what appeared to be a lake far off into the distance.

By the time we'd figured this much out, Max flew back down saying that the shimmering he'd seen was a lot farther off than he'd thought. Since we didn't have much else to go on, we began to march off in that direction.

We travelled for the rest of the day and eventually set up camp for the night. We continued the march in the morning, but at some point, a few of our more keen-sighted group sighted a dust cloud off in the direction of the lake. After a heated discussion, we decided to change plans and try to catch the dust cloud. We spent the rest of the day trudging off after that. The next morning we decided to try a much faster march in hopes of actually gaining ground on our quarry. About mid-day, Maxwell thought to give his legs a break and put on his wings again. He flew after the dust cloud at about twice our speed.

About three hours later, he returned to report that the dust cloud was a herd of large lizards being shepherded by men riding somewhat smaller lizards.

Eventually my anger over the loss of such riches subsided, and I noticed that only half of the party had joined me in suddenly appearing outside the gates of Brindenford. Jackle, Azrael, and Maxwell were standing beside me with their mounts. Well, the halfling drives a cart, so technically. . .but that's beside the point. Vanya, the druid's fox, was also there. Before I could wonder aloud about the others, Max said he could feel Kitya off in the direction of Tyrduk.

That was when we noticed his new tattoo. Strange little thing, looked like this:

When asked about their arrival at the battle, Maxwell told us that Llan had appeared in spirit form to whisk Kitya and him to our rescue. At the time, I didn't give it much thought, my mind being occupied with more immediate things, but it seems a bit mysterious that a man whose soul is trapped could open up a planar portal for them. I suspect that the "brand" is related, but only time will tell.

We traveled toward Tyrduk and eventually met up with the others. I was glad to see them safe, if a bit perturbed to find the exact same marking on Kitya that had led Max to her. The druid also informed us of a mysterious member of her order who stopped them on the road and began to rant about thinning the herd or somesuch. It tries my patience at times to deal with nature worshippers, but Kitya seems a decent sort most often. I'd hate to see her fall in with folks that're looking to see the local kingdoms shorn of those they don't like.
Continue reading "Urfengar: Planes Hopping"

Sometimes I'm not sure who the greater bunglers are, us or the fools who keep getting in our way. We climbed the mountain in hopes of reversing the trap, but upon encountering no one, set up camp for the night. We were awakened by the trap.

After a fierce battle, we decided that heading in the direction of the dragon hoard, where we wanted to go originally, would be in our best interest. So I patched up everyone's wounds (I think someone tattooed "I LIKE TO HEAL PEOPLE" on my forehead at some point on this journey -- I'll have to invest in a mirror the next time we stop somewhere half-civilized), and we trekked down the mountainside.

Our horses, or pony as the case may be, scattered during the fight. The others' mounts returned with the aid of the druid, but I trusted that Pony would find his way back soon enough. I waited at a crossroads while the rest of the party went to fetch Veya. My trusty steed showed up shortly before the party returned with our planes-traveler, and we made good time hiking up the path. For some reason, Jackle still had that weasel Valen tied to his horse; I made a mental note to untie him and drop him over a cliff the next time we set up camp near a handy ravine.
Continue reading "Urfengar the dragon slayer."

Gurind Renar, the earl's contact with the map, told us of a man who might be able to help us in Tyrduk, a hole of a place situated right at the base of the mountains we needed to reach. We set out with Veya in tow the next morning. As we traveled, we came across weird dimensional pockets of goblins popping up at random intervals. Veya's little lecture on the Planes gained a little more substance every time a horde of the little buggers would come charging at us like lemmings off a cliff.

After riding for two days straight, we decided to camp for the night. As it turns out, things didn't stop with just goblins. No, we got several visits from the undead through the night. I finally consecrated the area around our campfire and that (along with the mercy of the Gods) allowed us to sleep in peace long enough to recover our spells.

We managed to reach Tyrduk without further incident, late the next day. This collection of hovels got far more attention from the wandering goblins than it deserved. The humans who've been wasting their lives here were busy trying to rebuild as we rode through. Some of the party stopped to talk with some adventurer about who knows what, but I made sure to keep the local tavern in sight. It, at least, had survived the goblin raid. I guess the little beasts show reason from time to time after all.

I'd barely had time to sit down and savor the fresh brew of pigslop the barkeep passes off as ale when my companions found the man we were looking for. Valen is his name. I wasn't really impressed on first sight. And he later gave me no reason to change that. He did agree to take us up to the mountains for a hundred and fifty gold pieces, which is absolutely ridiculous. Nalathisor coughed up the coins, though, so we decided to head out at once. Which was fine by me, another swig of that hogspit and I'd probably be joining Thelonious.

As we plodded up the mountainside, Rath began to get a little suspicious about the path our man Valen was leading us along. Maxwell, to his credit, also began to suspect the smelly human. I offered to call on Moradin for some truth-defining spells, but the filthy malingerer would have nothing to do with it. Being very tired of dimwits, we hogtied him after a short scuffle and got some real answers out of him. Turns out he was paid to lead us into a trap. He begged and pleaded for his life, but we were too busy discussing how to deal with this turn of events to pay him much mind. After mulling it over, we tied him to one of our horses and headed up the mountain, hoping to spring the trap the other way.