The Twin Kingdoms

Of Wizards and Lizard Gizzards

The weather remains sticky and warm. Chrysta has been unwell – perhaps the weather, perhaps the food, perhaps seasickness – and spent most of the time in her cabin.

Alessandra navigated us downriver; I’m not sure how she was able to find the way, but evidently she did. Her brother Gerard was bored, and for better or worse Faye was appointed to entertain him by telling him stories and teaching weapon-play.

At night we pulled up by the shore and took shifts on watch. On the first night, Vall noticed something during his shift and went ashore to scout: five humanoids with pointy sticks. He crept back and woke us (sensible fellow) before going back for a closer look. They appeared somewhat reptilian, with scaly skin, although much larger than the kobolds we’d met previously.

Vall tried talking with them in Draconic, but sadly they didn’t reply in kind. Instead one threw a spear at him, so we fought back. Vall and Faye killed three between them and I knocked the last two out cold with a colour spray.

Faye killed one of the unconscious lizard-men; this was unnecessary and (as it turned out) regrettable, but to be fair to her she had been hit a couple of times with their javelins. We took the other prisoner, and when he woke up we conversed with him.

He told us they were starving as a result of the floods, and looking for food. We felt rather bad about killing them, even if they did attack us first, so we did what we could to help. They’re obligate carnivores, so plant-based food isn’t useful to them, but we were able to buy three barrels of salted fish from the boat’s cargo and give it to them. Apparently they’re also willing to eat their fallen comrades.

Around this time we felt the same flow of power that we’ve had a few times before, but this time it felt wrong for me and Chrysta, with a sour note to the magic. I presume this is the limit we had been hearing about. VERY annoying, and I do hope we can do something about this.

We continued downriver. I think Gerard was developing some sort of crush on Faye. As his legal guardian, I suppose I could have forbidden it, but I think that would have been counterproductive. Besides, Faye’s better company when somebody’s paying attention to her. I will keep an eye on them in case of any greater folly, but otherwise I’ll just leave well alone.

She was teaching him how to use a falchion. I suppose it’s a useful skill, if you don’t have proper magic.

…what am I saying? I don’t have proper magic. Argh. Definitely need to deal with this!

The next night we were visited by another group of lizard men, this time larger in number. Vall spoke to them and convinced them not to attack. We would have liked to organise some sort of food shipment but couldn’t figure out a way to make it work, given that it’s likely to be some weeks before the traders are ready to head back upstream.

In the end we gave up; we hadn’t solved their problem but at least we’d avoided bloodshed. Continuing downstream we found the swamp thinning, and could see the lights of Pont’s Cove up ahead.

Pont’s Cove is situated on a knob of rock that rises out of the water. Its walls are old and high, made with a clever mortarless locking construction; it’s a shame Chrysta was too ill to admire it. Because the space available is limited (about half the size of Rendel) people build high, with some buildings as high as five floors!

Anchored by the cove we saw a small fishing boat, and a larger seagoing vessel flying the King’s flag. Aha!

Vall went off to investigate options for feeding the lizard men, and the rest of us checked out the inn. We recognised our welcoming committee from the royal livery, and although the place was short of rooms, they found some for us when we made it clear that we were on the King’s business. The leader of their party is a Captain Bastian, a well-muscled fellow of perhaps thirty years. I presume Faye will make a pass at him at some point.

The rooms were very comfortable and clean; the building is made of old rocks (are there any new rocks?) and I think Chrysta appreciated that, although she was still rather unwell. After an uneventful night Bastian arrived with a ceremonial guard to take us (and Gerard, and Alessandra) aboard the ship to the capital.

Well, this has been an adventure! I wonder what the King has to say to us… and what they may know about my grandmother?

Shiny points: 12 carried over, 1 earned for summary = 13.

Muddy Waters

We continued downstream from Frentel, via Wirrin and Lindor to Rendel. Almost at Pont’s Cove now. (note: not “Ponce Cove”, mea culpa.) Along the way we picked up Marshall, another businessman, and parted with Roald.

There was a storm brewing, and by the time we reached Rendel it was getting quite ominous. Rendel is a town of two parts: the old centre is built on solid rock, but much of it is on soft ground. Every so often the river changes its course and those buildings need to be relocated, so they’re built to be dismantled and moved.

I must write to Father about that – the implications for property law must be fascinating!

The storm came on, bringing days of heavy rain and—surprise!—a shift in the river’s course. Our pilots were unwilling to chance the waters so we were stranded in Rendel for a couple of weeks.

We decided to stay in the Adventurers’ Guild… well, why not? They have a laundry service, who had some success in de-inking my things.

They have an orb, of course, and Faye poked it out of curiosity. It glowed much brighter than the one at home did. Evidently our powers have increased.

(blah blah blah only few weeks ago feels like lifetime blah blah)

Of course the local youths were eager to test themselves on the orb. One of them has the spark! She is fourteen years old, Alisandre by name. She has a pet? weasel; she may be some sort of druid.

The Guild has a decent library, and I took advantage of our extended stay to do some research. What I discovered was fascinating but deeply disquieting.

Among other things, they have a register of adventurers, recording both those who visited Rendel and those who started out here. The records go back a long way (guild hall first founded around AT 173, it being now AT 1003 – or 4571 PD, in the older reckoning. BTW, what does PD stand for?)

Going by the records, these heroic awakenings are becoming gradually less frequent: fifty years from ours to the previous one, fifty years to the one before that, then forty-five, forty, thirty-five…

Along with this, magic is becoming steadily more limited. Some of the earlier heroes are recorded as using magic clearly of the seventh order, but as time passes these spells are no longer observed in use. Over time the limit has become so low that even bards began to notice it.

Related, we have a better understanding of the “exploding caster” phenomenon. It is a rare but not unique phenomenon, and not restricted to wizards; I also found instances involving clerics and sorcerers. My best guess, consistent with available records, is that it happens when a caster has already mastered the highest-level magic currently available… and then the limit drops, so that their magic no longer fits within the limits of the world. The recent case, who I read about in Frentel, had complained of headaches for several weeks and was returning home when she finally exploded.

At present the limit prevents spells above the second order – i.e. my current stage of mastery, and Chrysta’s. If historical rates may be extrapolated, the next drop is due in about a hundred years. Perhaps not a pressing issue for me, but from what I know of dwarven lifespans, it’s quite possible that Chrysta will still be alive when that happens.

But, perhaps, not for very long afterwards.

I quite like Chrysta, and I do not want her to explode, even if I’m no longer around. Let us see what we can do about this issue, hmm?

(Also, while I am delighted by the magicks that I have already learned, I refuse to stop here. I would sooner risk exploding myself.)

We visited the temple of Nethys and spoke to their high priest, who confirmed much of my interpretation. He mentioned that magical items already created can surpass these limits, but cannot be recharged. They don’t know what the cause is, or how to deal with it, and their prayers to Nethys go unanswered, as if the god himself was distracted.

(Faye suggests that perhaps the god of magic is dying. If that’s the case, perhaps the universe will need a new one? I’m not sure what a god’s duties are but I might polish my curriculum vitae just in case.)

The stones in towns used to be teleportation ports; quite likely the decline in magic also explains why they no longer work. I expect that must have been quite a shock when it happened.

We may be able to find more information in the capital, perhaps from the court wizard or Lord Andine (some sort of priest?)

Meanwhile, Rendel’s nether parts were sodden, the locals were scurrying to move their houses, and Chrysta was writing to her relatives to bring in some engineers to arrange a better, more permanent solution to the town’s hydrographical issues. I must confess I was a little preoccupied with my own studies and didn’t catch the details (perhaps Chrysta will record the proceedings?) but it seemed to involve a lot of gruff dwarves shouting and exploding things. It kept them happy, anyway, and the new dock looked very nice. Maybe it won’t fall into the river next time it rains?

The rain stopped after a week, leaving the town smelling rather like…

…actually, I’m not sure I have a word for it. Perhaps it’s better undescribed.

The water was still high, and the town’s pilots were unwilling to go further downstream until things had settled and they had time to test the waters. But Alisandre told us she could steer us through safely, and we’re going to take her at her word. We could hardly get much damper than we already are.

She has an older brother, Gerard, just under age. Both their parents have died, but they have two very decrepit grandparents. In the end, the easiest way to handle things was for me to take on legal guardianship of all four of them before giving the grandparents into the care of the local temple of Sarenrae. (I was quite embarrassed by how little it cost to ensure that they are well cared for. This adventuring lark pays well.)

So, uh, I suppose that means I now have two children, one year and two years younger than myself. This will be… interesting.

Next stop (hopefully): Pont’s Cove. And the sea! I am curious as to whether the water tastes of salt yet, but not quite curious enough to discover what else it tastes of.

Shiny points: 12 carried over, 1 earned for summary, 1 spent on reroll = 12.

Also, The Wizard Has Exploded

We continued down the river from Blackwater to Tor. Brand and Russell were still with us. We had also acquired an older gentleman (Roald, retired jeweller, heading down to Lindor for retirement having sold his old home); two middle-aged women (Sasha and Lily, midwives); a middle-aged businessman (Mandrake, escorting a shipment down to Frantel); and a new crew member, a young fellow who seemed less than keen on the life of adventure.

(The ports ahead of us: Tor, Frantal, Wirrin, Lindor, Rendel, and Ponce Cove.)

I think it was Val who first noticed a smell of smoke, and soon we saw a plume of black smoke rising ahead. To our dismay, the town of Tor had burnt in some sudden conflagration!

Seeing our boat, many of the surviving townsfolk thronged to the shore. Our crew wisely anchored some distance off lest we be swamped by desperate refugees, and Chrysta shouted at the townsfolk until they chose a spokesman to fill us in.

Apparently something had gone boom the previous morning, and flames had rushed through town; the fire had been so swift that when we disembarked to investigate the town, we found one blackened body still standing up. At the origin of the blaze we found a large crater that smelled odd, like oil…

Vall and Faye headed in cautiously, confirming that the smell was getting stronger. We were unsure of our safety near the middle of the crater so I fastened one end of a rope around my waist and cast a levitation spell, and Vall held the other end of the rope to steer me towards the epicentre. Here there was a hole in the ground; I dangled some rope down and confirmed that there was oil in the hole.

We returned to the townsfolk, who told us that the site was one of the older buildings at the edge of town, formerly a barn but recently converted to a blacksmith’s. Well, I guess a deposit of oil under a blacksmith’s fire would account for the explosion.

(I must admit, I was half expecting some more unusual explanation, perhaps a dragon? But I don’t suppose it makes much difference to the townsfolk, poor people.)

We discussed some short-term plans and established immediate needs: shipments of hay, boarding the homeless folk in nearby farms, and so forth. Chrysta set the locals working on such things, and we headed back to the boat. Poor Sasha was from Tor, and had lost her whole family; she didn’t want to stay on.

We headed on to Frentel, with Chrysta holding a memorial service on the boat.

Frentel is an old town – the gates have stood for more than a millennium – and larger than Blackwater. We spoke to the guard captain Adronis and made our way to the council, in a palatial old building. Chrysta told them about events in Tor while Vall visited the Guild of Legitimate… Businessmen, and I investigated local history.

As in Blackwater there was an old stone in the centre of town, although with different runes on it; again, as in Blackwater, it had a faint aura of inactive magic.

I found some information about places that used to be schools of magic, but it shed no light on the phantom school we recently discovered. I also found a book that listed locations of these rune-stones, along with their runes (which I have copied). Every town we’ve visited has a stone, as do many others, although they’re not always obvious. The one for Callech is in the tavern basement.

I learned that the time between waves of adventurers is getting longer. I also read about a woman who lived about a hundred years ago, an adventurer-wizard like me, who died suddenly – for no apparent reason, she EXPLODED. Curiously, although she’d been adventuring for many years, her magic seems to have barely exceeded what I’m already capable of – reminds me of the warning earlier from “Mother”.

I wonder what this limit is? And how to break it? Preferably without exploding, that would be good.

Shiny points: 14 carried over, 3 spent on rerolls, 1 earned for summary = 12.

The Castle of Nope

I left off my last entry at the point where we had just finished clobbering the weirdwolves (save for a few that fled). The sailors were exhausted from their work portaging the boat, so they decided to rest until evening, and we took the opportunity to follow up on the wolves.

Following their tracks for a couple of miles, we came to something quite unexpected: a castle in a clearing. From its walls hung a flag, a book with a flame burning above it. As I recall, the insignia of a SCHOOL OF MAGIC!

This was, to say the least, an enticing proposition. But we were suspicious; the flag looked quite new, and it would be unusual in more ways than one to learn that a school of magic was operating here.

At the drawbridge stood two guards, apparently human. We tried to converse with them, but they seemed to be speaking gibberish. I scanned for magic and was nearly blinded by the aura I detected from the castle; it was very powerful, but it felt somehow wrong, in ways I can’t quite articulate.

Chrysta told us that the two guards were emanating evil. Faye hurled a stone at the castle wall, and we were not very surprised when it went straight through: some sort of illusion?

Val looked at the guards, and for a moment he saw them as undead before their human semblance returned. We conferred, and then Faye and Chrysta went for the guards. Chrysta channelled holy energy, and the guards and most of the castle simply disappeared, leaving only a crater glowing with some sort of magical residue.

Worst of all, no books.

We considered heading down to the crater and unanimously agreed that this seemed like a terrible idea, so we went back to the boat. The boatmen were unable to tell us anything about this castle.

(I had thought at first it might be illusion magic. But the fact that Chrysta’s power dispelled it makes me wonder – can buildings leave ghosts?)

Once the crew had rested we continued downstream, through thickening forest, and eventually arrived at Qurell’drel – an elvish tree-based city. Quite the sight!

We talked to the town guards about our observations (not even the elves knew anything about the castle – if it really was there, it must have been ancient!) We couldn’t stay long because our crew were eager to head on and make up lost time, but we did have time for some shopping.

Faye went in search of a falchion to replace Dawnrender. This to me seems like an excellent argument in favour of not naming one’s weapons too early in one’s career – it must become extremely difficult always thinking of new names that don’t conflict with anybody else’s.

I had hoped the elves might have something relevant to my interests, perhaps some spells I might transcribe, but they told me they had very few scrolls, saved for emergencies. Another disappointment, but I managed to work it to my advantage: I was at least able to sell them some spares from my own stock, which I was later able to replace for significantly less than the elves paid for them.

After three uneventful days of downstream travel, we arrived in Blackwater. Situated on the edge of a lake, it’s quite a cosmopolitan town: bigger than Vallaise, and it even has halflings and gnomes! (Either that, or the child labour laws here are exceedingly lax.)

Val has family here, and went off to catch up with them; Chrysta found us an inn (The Heffalump and Stone). Meanwhile I took the time to replace my scrolls, and chatted with a friendly lady from the Blackwater Historical Society. Their history goes back at least three thousand years.

In the centre of town, within the town square (actually more of a circle) there is a large stone that holds some residual magic; nothing currently active, but it may have been important once, and perhaps could be again. I sniffed a little magic among the townsfolk, nothing major – miscellaneous small heirlooms, one assumes – with more among the elves of the southern end of town.

Shiny points: 13 carried over, +1 for summary = 14.

Hungry Like The Magic-Warped Wolf

Nura’s summary 7/11/2016

Having finished our business, we said our farewells to Vallaise and began the journey downriver to Qurelld’rel.

We had company on the boat. As well as the boatmen there was an attractive young lady (eventually introduced as Milene) and her chaperone Louise, and there were a couple of businessmen: Brand from Frentel and Russell from Ponce Cove.

I did not like Brand and Russell; they seemed a little too fond of their drink, unfond of work when the boatmen needed a hand, and none of us liked the way they cast eyes at Milene and Faye. They told us they were travelling to set up some trade routes.

Louise and Milene kept largely to themselves, and I had no interest in talking to Brand and Russell, so I occupied myself looking to the sea, reflections in the waves sparking my memory, thinking of childhood friends. I pondered what would happen if I cast Levitate from a moving boat: would I move with the current? Or would the boat leave me behind?

Faye drank with Russell and Brand, discovering the joys of red wine, and Chrysta volunteered as designated cockblocker so I didn’t have to. Faye can do what she pleases when sober, but I think of her as something of a younger sister (mentally not chronologically) and I’ll not have anybody take advantage of her when she’s in no state to make up her own mind.

She was hung over the next morning. Will she learn from this? I suppose it’s possible.

Continuing downstream, we saw rapids up ahead. By the reactions of the boatmen, this wasn’t intended; evidently there’d been a rockslide obstructing the river, making it dangerous to pass. We landed the boat at the bank and decided to port it past the rapids; our group offered to help with the work but Brand and Russell seemed more interested in staying behind, possibly with nefarious intentions on Milene.

(And yet, if I were to animate their skeletons I would be the wrongdoer. Hmm, that makes me wonder – what would happen if one tried to animate a skeleton that was still inside its original owner?)

As we worked we heard a nasty howling sound… sort of doggish, sort of not. Val scouted ahead and told us there were several eyes in the undergrowth watching us. He and Faye shot at them and pelted them with stones, Faye connected (yelp!) and they broke from cover and went for us.

There were five of them, some sort of odd misshapen wolves. Perverted by exposure to magic? I mean obviously the wrong kind of magic, not the kind I use. Val and Faye clobbered them pretty effectively, but the howling continued, louder and closer, and then six more appeared. I hit one with a stick when it started chewing on Faye, and then dropped grease on the ground behind us when more tried to charge in. Val killed the leader, a couple fled, and Chrysta summoned a giant spider. I got close enough to distract one while Val stabbed it in vital organs I didn’t know existed, and that was pretty much that.

(Note to self: investigate summoning magic, it looks jolly useful.)

Shiny points: 12 carried over, +1 earned = 13.

Going Up A Level To Go Down A Level

We continued our exploration of the under-temple, wandering through catacombs amply stocked with bones.

(Pondering: back in the old days, when necromancers walked the lands, what was the economy of corpses? Were there enough to go round, or did they have to compete for places like this?)

Here and there we found a few sarcophagi, presumably belonging to the better-off among the deceased (if that isn’t an oxymoron), with inscriptions in ye olde Formalle Common.

Several of the skeletons had valuable-looking jewellery, gems and brooches and the like, some with similar workmanship to the amulet of Asmodeus but with a wide selection of gods represented. Quite ecumenical.

By mutual agreement we did not loot the bodies, on the principle that if nobody had already done so in the last few centuries there was probably a good reason for that. We did ask Billy if his mob had been curious about the place; he said no, and in hindsight, that seemed suspicious to him.

We had established that there was a concealed area in the middle, but we needed to find a way in. Going back up a level, we applied our scrutiny to a statue of Rovagug, and Billy found a catch for a secret door that took two to work. When we activated it we heard a clunk from downstairs, and on investigating we found that the secret doors we’d previously identified were now opened.

Inside was a room laid out as if for a ritual, with a magical circle under a statue and symbols of Pharasma around the walls, which were inscribed with a powerful spell. The room emanated magic strongly; Faye walked in first and was almost overwhelmed by it, and Vall was stunned until I pulled him out and walked in myself.

I had thought I’d be better able to withstand the effect, having more familiarity with magic, but my knowledge may have increased my sensitivity; I was quite dazed until Vall and Chrysta pulled me back out and were impolite enough to tie me up.

“That was a hell of a thing.”

Looking at the circle I concluded that it was not one of summoning or protection, as I had first thought, but preservation, with the inscription on the wall reading “WE PROTECT” repeated over and over, with a strong hint of necromancy. Undead guardians?

I extricated myself from the ropes and re-entered the room; this time, although distracted, I was able to keep it under control and examine the circle further. It was open, not sealed. On closer examination of the wall inscription I found it was holding things in the room and protecting the room itself from detection, and that the spell itself was… creating undead from the essence of Pharasma?

“We’re happy goth Pharasma-ites!”

Chrysta was, to put it mildly, not at peace with this disclosure, which seems to run rather contrary to her views on the undead.

(Note to self: make sure C is elsewhere when I transcribe that scroll of animation; I don’t think she entirely appreciates the value of knowledge, and might mistakenly assume that I aim to summon an army of the dead or some such.)

(Not that an army of the dead wouldn’t have its advantages, I suppose. If nothing else, it may be an interesting intellectual exercise to consider…)

[following two paragraphs in an undecipherable shorthand of Nura’s own invention.]

Eventually Chrysta decided to write to Mother Augite for guidance, which should at least postpone the problem until return post. We closed off the temple and headed back to town, with Billy agreeing to keep quiet about our discoveries. I think the town has lost enough foolish young men already without some sort of inevitable “horrible death while trying to rob the catacombs” incident.

On our return, Vall talked to “Mother”. As we’d surmised, she was from the previous wave of adventurers, and she cautioned us: “Christa and Nura will have a problem. They will reach a point where they cannot go any further.”

Hmm. I suppose we’ll just have to see what THAT’S about, and see what we can do about it.

All in all, between the reward from Mother and other takings, we mustered about fifteen thousand gold’s worth! That’s some serious money, my share should keep me in quills for a while when we divide it.

Shiny points: 12 carried over, -1 spent, +1 earned for summary, total 12.

Okay Billy, Be A Hero Then, See If We Care

We headed down through the secret door. Mindful that we’d encountered hints of illusion magic, we collected some poles first and used them to test the floor as we went. (Vall already had some sort of fancy folding pole, and seemed to be a little offended by the implication that his pole was inadequate, but we felt there was no harm in having a backup pole.)

Downstairs we found a room full of valuable-looking embalming gear and many dead bodies set into the walls in little niches, row upon row. Vall wanted to set them on fire just in case, and I was inclined to agree, but we decided to leave that for the time being.

Examining a bench against one wall, we found some interesting hidden mechanisms that allowed a section of the bench to detach, giving access to the wall behind. It appeared there might be a secret door in the wall, but nothing openable from our side (well, not without a bit of deconstructive masonry).

The decor in this area still has the iconography of Rovagug, but not his style; there were suggestions of Pharasma and other gods. Odd.

We found the source of the draft that had greeted us on our entrance. It seems the big columns are vents. I wonder how they are secured at the top? One wouldn’t want birds or rats getting in that way.

Following a glimmer of magic (abjuration and divination), we found an impressive-looking sarcophagus. It bore a heraldic shield, dusty with time, but I cleaned it off to reveal the device: argent, a bend azure (was it sinister? I forget), a black swan natant. We recognised it as the Mon’Vallaise device, that of the extinct lineage for whom Vallaise is named.

Billy was showing a distinct interest in the sarcophagus, and we’d all figured out that his motives for accompanying us were more than just infatuation with Faye, so we asked him his real business and he came clean with us.

He told us that his mother should have been duchess; there was some old business where the last Duke Mon’Vallaise’s marriage certificate wasn’t properly filled out, so that his child (one of Billy’s ancestors) was deemed illegitimate; before it could be rectified the Duke died in an accident, leading to the extinction of the title.

Billy was after a sword, believed to be inside the sarcophagus, and we agreed to let him have it. We let Billy open the lid, because he was (apparently) the rightful heir; besides, I’ve read enough stories to know that it’s best to let somebody else open such things, just in case.

Inside was a well-preserved body, with a very shiny magic sword. Billy said “Thank you, grandfather!” and took the sword, belt, and scabbard, and I felt the same magic tingling that I had done when my own destiny was recognised. (Need a name for this phenomenon. Perhaps “the quickening”? It has a nice ring to it.)

We do still have another secret door to check out – more in my next installment.

Shiny points: 11 carried over +1 = 12

Blot Me, Asmodeus

Blot Me, Asmodeus

indecipherable inky smudge glass tiles on ceiling, with some light coming smudge upstairs and yes, it was there, we just smudge told Faye no, those are worth money.

smudge smear blade hit Faye and there was much recrimination. blot more scrolls, radiating magic! Decided to come back later when I am better prepared to preserve smear

streak in one of the bedframes. It was a small brooch with a symbol of Asmodeus, and an enchantment that made the wearer radiate evil. The craftsmanship alone is superb; it is carved out of a single piece of black rock, and must be worth ten to fifteen thousand gold just for the work.

In a desk nearby we found an inkwell radiating conjuration magic. The quill nearby had decayed away, and must have been there hundreds of years, yet the ink was still liquid. I think this may be a never-ending inkwell! Considering how much ink I go through, this is very useful.

Unfortunately the cork was rotted through, so I had to carve a replacement, but I flatter myself that I have done an adequate very large blot locked drawer within the desk we found some old letters, written to one “Francis” from his mother, brother, and sister, asking what he intends to do when the temple is closed down.

smear not quite as effective as I had thought blot Vall asked smear in my backpack blot right through my unmentionables! smudge magic smudge most of the worst of it but this will take ages to clean. Dammit.

Vall very kindly made a replacement cork, which worked rather better than mine.

We returned to the Doors Of Stench and I opened them from a distance, using a telekinetic spell. Crysta called up an air elemental to hurtle through and stir up the air, and it must have worked, because the next thing I can remember is waking up outside.

We camped, and I adjusted my repertoire to include some mending and cleaning spells. We could have ventured back inside, but it was getting dark, and there was general agreement that venturing into an evil temple at night was unnecessary, so we took the extra rest. Billy cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast – excellent work.

Then we returned to the library. I repaired and souvenired the magical scrolls: protection from good, ditto law, Explosive Runes, four Cause Fear. I also identified the ring we found earlier: a ring of illusion that will make the wearer look like an acolyte of Rovagug.

Thought: the ring and the brooch both feature illusion magic, suited to the impersonation of members of evil faiths. Was somebody attempting to start trouble between the two? Could this be related to the temple of illusion that was missing from the map? Was somebody perhaps trying to change the worship of Rovagug? The layout of this place, very orderly and symmetric, hardly seems appropriate to Rovagug.


small inky fingerprint

Heading down, we found the opened rooms still stinky but bearable; the stench might be explained by shackled skeletons on the wall with residues of flesh on the floor, and torture implements nearby.

These rooms did not go quite as far back as the others, and we surmised a possible secret door behind them.

Before checking that, we returned to the library and looked through the records, but didn’t have time for a thorough investigation. Going back to the skeleton room, Val found the expected doors, leading to a stairway going down. A draft coming up suggests that the space beyond is large, and perhaps connected to the outside.

To be smudge

Shiny points: 9 carried forward, +1 for summary, +1 for a bad Mage Hand joke = 11.

Finding Door E

After a good night’s rest we headed back to the old temple. Billy, still in a state of inFaytuation, tagged along and gave us a pouch of gems, apparently from his grandmother (or possibly “grandmother”). This heroing business pays better than transcribing Father’s judgements.

Having encouraged Billy not to get himself killed, we reopened the altar-door, and let it air out a little as we poked around the upper floor. There were several excessively large columns, each about five feet across and decorated with carvings. On tapping they felt hollow, but we could find no obvious way to open them, so we descended.

The next floor was also quite large, with several doors. Chrysta set about making a map; I expect dwarves are used to navigating underground. We found several doors, and Chrysta opened one, but immediately fell unconscious.

Fortunately I realised what might have happened, and told the others not to approach. Instead Vall lassoed Chrysta by the foot and dragged her back. The entrance stank as if something had died in there and putrefied enthusiastically; I detected faint traces of necromancy, and Chrysta detected evil. We decided to let this one air out and investigate elsewhere.

Faye, being the tanner’s child, was chosen to open the next door. Inside we found skeletons nailed to the wall and some sort of unpleasant goop on the floor. Shortly afterwards Vall noticed a nasty-looking blade trap, apparently still armed despite the passage of time; he disarmed it and salvaged the blade, made of extremely high-quality metal.

Past that we encountered a more pleasant smell: parchment. A room with many shelves, and one of those gigantic pillars continuing downward. On the shelves were several scrolls, extremely fragile with age. I found one group radiating magic; the first crumbled when I touched it, but I employed a mending spell to preserve the others. They appear to relate to the reanimation of the dead; the incantation involves a great deal of cackling but I’m pretty sure that’s optional. I collected them for safe-keeping; I’ll see about transcribing one later.

(Note to self: Chrysta may be uncomfortable with the subject matter, it would probably be kinder not to give her too much detail about them.)

The rest of the scrolls were more mundane: a membership list, various temple records, the most recent dated about 650 years ago. I wonder if any of them are the people we found nailed to the wall?

Moving on, we came to another room with the decayed remains of mattresses on the floor. Knowing the propensity of teenagers and cultists to hide things in their mattresses, of course we searched them. We found some old gold coins that might be worth more than their weight in gold to a collector, Vall came across a nice dagger, and of particular interest, a ring that radiated illusion magic; I will have to see about identifying that one.

Unallocated loot:

500pp + gems + misc loot from temple, illusion ring, rare coins.

Shiny points: 7 from last session, 0 spent, +1 for summary and 1 for an awful pun = 9.

Temple of Rov

Chrysta has been studying with her co-religionists, and I have been reading Bigby’s Big Book of Beliefs, so we were both able to identify the old building as a temple of Rovagug (BBBoB p. 388: portfolio wrath, disaster, destruction, kittens – suspect possible transcription error).

Chrysta told us that her mystic senses had detected emanations of evil from the dead axe-wielding maniac (whose name we later learned was ‘Raine’) and from the temple. This was not entirely surprising, but it never hurts to confirm such things; more importantly, she didn’t detect any other evil among the remaining bandits and their prisoners.

From talking to them we learned that Raine had become more driven a few months back, which explained why the lads had escalated from petty brigandry to murder. Consistent with my speculation that he had developed some version of the spark?

The prisoners turned out to be carters who had been ambushed by Raine’s gang, with one killed.

I’m not convinced that the responsibility was Raine’s alone; one could argue whether the others should have done more to stop him when his bloodthirstiness became apparent. But one of the things I’ve learned from watching my father at work is that sometimes it’s unwise to pursue justice too rigorously.

So we encouraged the lads in agreeing that the violence had been solely Raine’s doing (they were quite happy to go along with this) and urged them to head back to town and make their apologies.

Billy lingered with us, and from watching the way he looked at Faye it wasn’t hard to see why. I’m reminded of my cousin Thomin, who used to take his pig fishing as a decoy for the mosquitos; travelling with Faye has similar benefits in terms of holding the lads’ attention.

We decided to inspect the temple in case of menaces and/or loot. There was an old altar with some very old stains and a few recent ones; other than that, there was nothing more terrifying than the detritus of a dozen lads who hadn’t learned how to wash their clothes or change their bedding.

But I had my suspicions – I remembered the diagram on BBBoB page 263 – and set to looking for a passage under the altar. By poking at old carvings, Faye and Vall managed to activate a secret catch that opened up a hole behind the altar, down which Billy almost tumbled. Picked it!

The space smelled distinctly stale, and we were in need of rest, so we closed the door and headed back to town with Billy and the late Raine. The guards seemed amused and pleased by the resolution we’d brought to the situation, and gave us a bag containing a delightfully large number of platinum coins.

Vall headed off with Billy to the “tea room” which is apparently the preferred watering spot of the local “legitimate businessmen”. Meanwhile, Chrysta and I went back to the archives and did some research.

We learned that the Mon’Vallaise family had been here before the cataclysm, and had effectively founded the town. Believing that all the gods should have a presence (oh yes of COURSE we should make sure that Snarklegrub Lord of Dysentery has representation, who could be against that idea?) they built temples to each of them, with the non-housetrained faiths located some way out of town.

The Mon’Vallaise family were lieges of the Mon’Vallas family, who had the region from the King. Several hundred years ago the last of the Mon’Vallaise family died without an heir, and the Mon’Vallas lost their lands as they reverted to the king. (Or perhaps I have my Vallaises and Vallases mixed up there, I didn’t quite catch it.)

Since then the town has shrunk, and what was outskirts is now farmland or forest.

We found an old map that showed the city in its greater days. Among other things, the map included twenty temples to the gods… but that of Sivanah, goddess of illusions, was missing. Seems fitting. Knowing how these things go, it’ll probably turn out to be a gigantic tower in the middle of town that we’ve been walking right past without seeing it.

After that we returned to the tavern, where Faye was dancing on tables and making a spectacle of herself. Well, it keeps her happy, I suppose.

Vall had been talking to Billy’s grandmother (I wasn’t sure if “grandmother” or " ‘grandmother’ " but I think actually grandmother). She is an attractive woman – I suspect Billy may find himself vying with his grandmother for Faye’s attention – and appears much, much too young to be his grandmother. She also has a ring on her finger bearing a truly complex enchantment: a mix of divination, enchantment, evocation, illusion, and transmutation. One suspects the two facts are related.

(100 gp + 500 pp not yet allocated among party members?)

Shiny points: 6 from last session, 0 spent, +1 = 7.


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