D&D Campaign Session for July 15th, 2001

Played with 3rd Edition Rules

Player Characters:

Azaki Ushento, Half-Orc Male Fighter, 3rd Level (Josh R.)
Borik, Half-Orc Male Fighter, 3rd Level (Greg)
Glothe Longstride, Dwarf Male Fighter, 3rd Level (Caleb)
Ithil, Elf Female Rogue/Fighter, 1st Level/2nd Level (Dennis)
Kari Morningdew, Human Female Ranger/Cleric of Fharlanghn, 1st Level/4th Level(Andy)
Kespin eth Lunar, Human Male Bard, 2nd Level (Josh N.)
Kessem Chexz, Female Elf Wizard, 4th Level (Neil)
Kobort, Half-Orc Male Cleric of Heironeous, 3rd Level (Bart)
Mike Steel, Human Male Fighter, 4th Level (Patty)
Odlits Burdfriend, Male Half-Orc Wizard, 3rd Level (Bill)
Selena, Female Human Monk, 3rd Level (Scott)
Simon, Human Male Sorcerer, 1st Level (Geoff)
Westwind, Halfling Male Fighter, 2nd Level (Andrew)

Non-Player Characters:

Deina, Human Female Cleric of Pholtus, 3rd Level
Riis, Elf Male Ranger, 3rd Level
Ramne, Druid/Wizard

A Feast Fit For a...

In Search of the Snake Goddess

Flocktime 20th, 574 CY: Seblingham.

The black wolf disappeared into a maze of brambles, his tail only barely visible as he fled, or led, onward into the woods.

"There it is." Ithil quickly pointed out the black form as he disappeared. The thorns, unusually easy for the wolf, were only barely passable to elf and ranger, but they'd not tracked their mysterious quarry this far without intending to see it through. With Kari in the lead, her tattered cloak wrapped protectively around her, they forged into the brush.

At length and much disheveled, the pair of adventurers found themselves on the other side of the protective hedge. Trees and underbrush formed a shading circle around the small, green clearing. Birdsong rang in warbled conversation from the branches and crickets chirped merrily in the sun-speckled grass. The black wolf stood on a round stone, regarding them thoughtfully.

"Hello?" Ithil greeted the wolf dubiously. Silence ensued. The black wolf turned with a flick of his tail, stepped down behind the stone and began to transform. His frame lengthened, grew upright; his fur changed to a scraggly grey and receded; now he wore an old, unpatched robe. His eyes, ever watching, remained bright and a staff grew into his gnarled hand. Now a frail old man stood before them, straight as a rod, unkempt and wild.

"Hello." Ramne replied. He beckoned them forward as he moved stiffly to sit upon the round stone. "Come, come. I was hoping it would be you who followed me." A few rattling coughs shook his thin form, and Kari and Ithil exchanged surprised glances. He studied the two women. Kari's hood had been pushed askew by the brambles, and beneath the travel dust and assortment of small twigs and leaves caught in her hair, she was a sturdy half-elf who bore the symbol of Farlanghn. The other, a diminutive, full-blooded elf, had an alert and wary stance. His gaze stayed a moment on Ithil's cheek and the singular mark upon it. His curiosity was piqued, but he tore his thoughts from the deeper meanings of the symbol and addressed the surprised adventurers.

"Yes, I am still quite alive and well, or as well as can be expected." He answered their unasked question. "That was the body of my brother which you found, and he, too, I assure you, is alive and well." He seemed slightly amused by this, but it passed. "We thought it best to let them think their job was done." Other wolves, silent in the brush surrounding the grove, had gathered and now watched protectively. "Ah." Ramne smiled as the women noticed them. "Do not mind my family. I am fond of them, as they are fond of me."

"Why did you lead us here?" Kari asked finally, stepping forward. She remained guarded, keen eyes flicking around the circle of wolves and resting again on the old man. "Why not speak to us before?" He had certainly had the chance, if he had wished to take it; the adventuring party, now known far and wide as the Giant Slayers, had even fought beside the black wolf just the day before. Yet he had not revealed himself.

Ramne did not hesitate to reply. "I needed to make sure of you. I believe that you are against the temple of the snake. If that is so, I have much to tell you and your companions." He gestured with the tip of his staff, indicating the perimeter of the circular clearing. "Within this circle you cannot speak anything but the truth." He clasped both hands around the smooth wood shaft and leaned against it, awaiting their response. He did not wait long, as Kari frowned fiercely.

"We have cleared the temple of the snake goddess' servants," the half-elf pointed out roughly, one hand slipping unbidden to the haft of one of her twin deadly maces. "What do you know of her?" The smaller elf remained quiet a few paces away as she kept a close eye on the old druid.

"Ah, good. I had thought she was also your enemy, but these days it is hard to know." Ramne sighed. "This town has suffered much." He squared his shoulders as he faced them. "First, she is not a goddess. She is not a natural creature, but she is not divine. She is what my brother calls a 'spirit naga'." He gave a brief explanation. "The druids of the Menowood have heard of a strong leader rising among the reptile folk. You have seen her work here, in Seblingham. She sends her servants to bring the villagers to her, where she charms them. Too many of these peaceful folk have either been turned to her service or killed. I would ask you, and your companions, to cast down this so-called goddess and remove her influence from this town."

"I told you we should've just burned the place." Ithil murmured to Kari, and the druid's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That would be a grave mistake." His tone was quiet and sharp. "For many reasons." Ithil tried to look unrepentant, facing him down, but he was again drawn to the symbol, stark against her pale skin. "One such as you should know this." Ramne paused. "Pardon my curiosity, but when and where were you born?" Ithil was taken aback, but in the circle of truth she could not dissemble.

"I was born one hundred and twenty-five years ago in the Menowood," she admitted. "Why?"

"Only three bear that mark," Ramne told her. "It means a great many things, and is not put on a child unless she has a great destiny." A few of the wolves had begun to leave the encirclement, slipping off into the woods, and the druid abruptly held up his hand. "Ah, it seems your friends have arrived. Excuse me."

The brush melted aside as Ramne stepped into it, closing behind him, and Ithil and Kari were left alone.

***

Several of the Giant Slayers had been investigating the old hermit's shelter; as expected, there wasn't much. Outside, Mike paced, watching into the woods where Kari and Ithil had gone several minutes ago. A practical man who appreciated sturdy armor and a well-honed sword, he was disturbed at the illusory corpse they'd found. Of course, after the last two days at Seblingham, everything disturbed him.

"I'll be just as glad to finish this," He muttered darkly. "Are you done in there yet?" The fighter spared an impatient glance for his more magically-inclined compatriots. Then he corrected himself and repeated the question in the common tongue, since most of them wouldn't have understood his native dwarvish. "We should be looking for Ithil and Kari, not picking for trinkets in a hermit's hut."

"She not come back?" Borik's head appeared from behind a rickety wall, his orcish face a mask of concern.

"No." Mike looked again into the woods; the brush still showed evidence of their passage, even to his untrained eye. "Haven't heard anything, either."

"Borik go look." The armored half-orc -- mostly orc, actually -- charged from the hut, heading directly for the brush.

"All right, Borik, but it'd be a good idea if all of us went together. That way whatever's out there can have dinner all at once instead of a course at a time." Not that an orc would know a about multi-course dinners. Mike returned the few steps to the hut, leaving Borik to ponder that. "We're going after Kari and Ithil," he announced shortly. Odlits contemplated pocketing something from the hut, but shrugged and decided against it, and it didn't take the rest long to finish up their searches. Even the problem of who got to go first into the brambles wasn't an argument, since Borik dove right in, never minding the fierce scratches.

Soon, they noticed the wolves which crept alongside, flanking them. Westwind grew nervous, drawing the short sword that, in his small grasp, seemed a much larger weapon. "They'd better not try anything," he threatened. "They'll feel my blade sure enough." But they didn't try anything, and the halfling warrior wasn't put to the test; the wolves paced them, watching and, it seemed, waiting. Then the file of adventurers suddenly stopped, for Ramne had seemingly melted out of the brush before them. Although his robes were rougher than those of the phantom corpse and he was less kempt, the features were the same.

"You must be Ramne." Mike, ever master of the obvious, moved forward and spoke.

"I am." The druid answered. "Take my hand."

The party shifted audibly, each member looking upon the old man in varying degrees of distrust and appraisal. The old man extended a bony hand, leaning upon his staff. Finally, Mike clasped it.

"Each of you must hold hands, or you will not pass through," Ramne told them. Then he turned, gestured with his staff and the branches parted for him.

When the last of the party had entered the clearing, the path through the thorn hedge disappeared, all the foliage shifting back into place as though simply blown by a breeze.

When all were gathered, Ramne again took his seat on the rock and began his explanation of the task he had in mind for the group. "And so I ask you to pledge, in this circle of truth, that you will preserve the innocents of Seblingham and that you will throw down the so-called snake goddess."

Again, there was concerned murmuring amidst the group of stout adventurers. "But if we burned it, it'd get rid of her, right?" Ramne studiously ignored the light snatches of conversation, but others within the group grew disturbed at the protestations.

"I, for one, will pledge." Mike stepped up.

"So do so." As Ramne calmly listened, each member of the party gave the required pledge, and at last the druid nodded. "I bind you each to your pledges," he confirmed. "And I bind you also to keep my secrets. I will tell you now something which you should know of myself and my brother, and I ask you to keep this knowledge safe."

"My mother was a forest spirit, forced to bear me by my father, a man skilled in the ways of magic. I refer to my brother; indeed he is, but we share this form. I was born with two souls, bound together into one body."

Ramne paused. The group seemed torn between metaphysical contemplation of the possibility and complete disbelief. "We were granted two normal life spans, perhaps so that we would have time enough to come to terms with each other. We are one hundred and eighty-three years old, and over this time we have learned to live with one another and have also studied many things, both natural and magical. Ah," he interrupted himself mid-monologue. "My brother wishes to speak with you now."

There was silence as the old man drew within himself, deep in meditation for several minutes. When he opened his eyes again, he was subtly changed.

"My brother tells me you have promised to destroy the spirit naga," the new Ramne addressed them. The man's speech was more educated, smooth and articulate. "There are several things you should know about her." He proceeded to describe the creature in great detail. "She is magical, and uses magic innately as well as the way a sorcerer or wizard might use it. She can charm with her eyes, so you must never meet her gaze," he told them. "Many of the villagers are so charmed, and many serve in her temple. I have scryed her, as much as I dare, and have seen much of the way through her lair."

In the time that followed, Ramne the wizard informed them of the particulars of the journey they would all be undertaking. The snake goddess lived in the Vast Swamp where she bred an army of troglodytes; within the following month, the wizard calculated that she would have nearly a thousand warriors. The time to strike was now. Ramne would travel with them to assist in dispelling her magic, but the warriors would have to strike her down.

"We must do this now, and if I attempt to defeat her alone," Ramne solemnly told them, "I will fail."

And so plans were made: Ramne, from his scrying, was able to give them important details of the journey to and within the naga's temple-lair. They would strike quickly and go straight through to the naga herself, and then they would destroy the hundreds of troglodyte eggs that were nearly due to hatch. Such a blow would not be forgotten soon by the reptile kingdom.

The party returned to the soldiers' camp outside of town to discover a new face at the fireside. A half-elf had arrived in the morning, dressed in plain, traveling robes and well-armed with a short spear and a crossbow. He introduced himself as Simon, revealing little else but an interest, made plain by his accouterments, in adventure. Several of the party members were already in conversation with him; others hung back.

"Kobort, you can tell whether he's evil," Glothe whispered to the devout half-orc. "Can't you just..." He wiggled his fingers covertly, indicating magic. "Without him knowing?"

Kobort considered the suggestion briefly and grunted. As he crossed behind the half-elf, he muttered the incantation which called upon Heironeous' power and suddenly his face split with a broad smile. He gave a thumbs-up sign to Glothe and nodded enthusiastically.

With that assurance, the party seemed inclined to include him in their number. They had determined to explore the remaining tunnels beneath the temple to make sure they were cleared out, and it seemed a good way to try out the half-elf and see if he really could, as he insisted, use his weapons effectively.

The tunnels were surprisingly uneventful. The place was deserted, though it still smelled strongly of troglodyte. A hidden door opened by a secret lever into a series of rougher, wet tunnels. Tracks in the thick, boot-sucking mud indicated that troglodytes had traveled through it, though not recently. Ithil scouted ahead, a rope securing her to the rest of the party, but when the mud reached her knees she turned back. Borik, being taller and impervious to any more grime than was already on him, took the lead instead. When he didn't sink, the rest of the party followed.

They passed several empty prison cells; they had probably been occupied by humans. Eventually they came to the edge of a bluff which opened into a large cavern. Water flowed in the floor, a good twenty feet below them. Borik began descending the cliff, but as soon as he disappeared from the party's view, they heard him scrabbling for a hold and, a moment later, he hit the floor with a dull thud and an orcish curse. A second later at a word from Simon, a nearby stalactite burst into brilliant light to illuminate the cavern's extent.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Mike rounded on Simon. The newly-revealed sorcerer shrugged modestly.

"Just something I can do."

"And what else can you do?"

"Great!" Kobort interrupted. "Can you make it turn colors?"

At that, Kespin gestured, and the light swirled and changed colors. The bard bowed.

The adventurers finished exploring the cavern, finding nothing but what its previous inhabitants had left behind -- which, luckily enough, included a hastily stashed chest. Eventually they left the tunnels the way they came, slightly richer than they'd come. Every now and then, Ithil gave Glothe a dark look, and Glothe would respond by adjusting the newly-acquired silver brooch he now wore. She'd lost the coin toss for it.

***

The next day dawned to find them preparing for travel. This first day they passed the outskirts of Seblingham unmolested; the second day saw them entering the Menowood. Dark columns of trees rose up around them, the green canopy blocking all light and muffling sound in a living, rustling quiet. The only difference between day and night was the unpierceable blackness that descended within the wood at sunset; even the days were only as dusk.

By the following day they emerged from the forest into rolling hills and began to catch glimpses of the Vast Swamp spread out in a swath of deep, fetid green. The wind brought the myriad scents of rotting and growing vegetation and all the things that live among it, and finally they crossed the threshold into the marshland.

Kari and Riis together led, finding ground which could support even the most heavily-armored of the group. Without warning, the ground gave way and they began to sink into the watery muck.

"Kari!" Borik leapt forward, grabbing hold of the ranger-cleric and pulled her to the safety of his embrace. Overcome, he kissed her -- only to feel the sting of her hand on his rough face. She pulled free with a reluctant thanks, wiping off her mouth although it wasn't muddy. Unfortunately, her action was misinterpreted.

"She loves me!" Borik sighed happily while Selena struggled to pull Riis back to the bank. Kari simply groaned and set off again.

Toward evening, Borik yelped. Attached to his calf was some kind of snake, probably venomous. A moment later, the snake was limp in his hands and blood flowed freely from his leg.

"Dinner's ready," he gleefully announced.

***

Kari sat up late that night, listening and watching into the darkness. Behind her and across the camp were Deina and Kobort. The human cleric of Pholtus had just lapsed again into silence after attempting to convert them to the service of her deity; so far it was just a friendly, philosophical discussion, but the trouble with the Pholtites was that they couldn't quite let others be. Kobort was also quiet, only the rhythmic scraping of whetstone and steel giving him away at his post.

Something rustled in the dark. Kari sat up, her sharp ears locating the sound a moment before she could see it -- a giant insect buzzing from the swamp directly at Kobort, only he hadn't noticed it yet! The half-elf leapt from her crouch, maces already in her hand, and charged toward it: it swept in an inch from her head and landed in the water on the far side of the camp. Kari yelled as she rushed past sleeping comrades, a startled Kobort quick in her wake.

"Everybody up!" She gauged its movement and swung at it, the double blow cracking its carapace before it could take to the air. Deina was at Kari's side and Kobort coming up fast and splashing into the murky water, but the giant mantis grabbed at her and its chitinous claw-feet sliced into her flesh. She writhed against its grip and barely avoided its bite as the clerics of Pholtus and Heironeous attacked its sides.

"Aaaaauuuugh!" Borik's war-cry rang through the night as he leaped into the water and rushed at it from behind. He swung his great-axe and the thing collapsed at the middle, twitching violently. Deina and Kobort hurried to unlatch the mantis from Kari, and Borik dragged the corpse from her before it could bear her down into the water.

The half-orc beamed at the half-elf.

"Kari okay now." He nodded, well-pleased, as she shrugged him off.

***

On the fourth day the group managed to avoid the various hazards of the damp, buzzing swampland. They stayed on mostly-dry, spongy ground and although they saw various skeletal remains, nothing attacked them. They arrived at their destination: a low, sheltered entrance set up on a dry hummock. A wooden retaining wall kept the water away, but it was otherwise undefended. Ramne assured them that the defense would be below.

They waded up to the entrance and could see a long, steep staircase descend into moist blackness. It was slippery with moss and water, and Ithil carefully crept down until she could hear voices. Then one challenged her.

"Who goes?" asked a man's voice, speaking poorly-accented draconic. Ithil hesitated, then stealthily climbed up the wall to crouch against the tunnel ceiling.

"It's me," she bluffed, speaking in as deep a voice as she could manage.

"Hey, that's not regulation." The man called from below. She could hear him start toward the stairs, and other weapons began to rattle. "Who are you?" He spoke common now.

"Come and see for yourself." Ithil wedged herself better into the moist earthen wall.

Now the sounds from below were in earnest. Voices sounded in hushed command, and booted feet echoed up. Above, the party waited for them... and waited... and waited. The standoff continued for several minutes.

"I slide down!" Borik insisted in a loud whisper, indicating the tunnel. "They never expect Borik!"

"Damnit," Mike swore. He stayed at the ready, straining his eyes at the blackness of the tunnel before them. Glothe hefted his axe and shield, eager for battle, and the wizards did whatever wizards did to ready their spells. "We don't have time to wait them out." He sheathed his sword, uncoiling the rope from his pack. "Borik, take the rope and go first. I'll anchor it here." Selena placed herself second, and with Glothe, Kessem and Kobort formed a well-rounded first-attack group. "If you can, let Kessem put them to sleep. We don't want to kill them if they're only charmed." He glanced back at Ramne, who seemed to be the wizard at the moment.

One by one the group moved as quietly as they could down the stairs on the rope. Ithil dropped from the ceiling to edge down beside them. Foot after painstaking foot, they descended into the darkness until at long last, the steep stairs broadened almost imperceptibly and the glow of torches came into view. Men shifted below, readying their spears.

They came into view, two ranks of spears held by sturdy soldiers, all facing the chute down which they climbed. Selena sprang into action, leaping from the stairs past Borik and tucking as she rolled to the side to give the others room to fight. Her foot slid on the damp, mossy stone; she tumbled and fell, and a spear stopped her way.

"I'm coming!" shouted Borik. The immense half-orc barreled down the last few steps and swung his axe, and one defender fell at his feet. Only nineteen to go. "I'll save you!"

The defenders were well-trained and ready, and their spears and shields formed a bristling hedge. Borik was joined by Glothe and Kessem, and she spoke a word and four fell with weapons still in hand, snoring loudly. Borik charged, making room, and Glothe put his axe to good use.

Yet from somewhere behind the main ranks, the twang of crossbows sounded, and Selena's final cry was choked off.

A bolt of magical energy streaked from Simon's hand and struck one of the men. Then Kespin's voice rang out in the tunnel as he picked his way down the stairs, a strong rendition of Moonwhisper's Giant Slayer ballad. Kobort grinned, showing his sharp, elongated teeth and gestured. "Hold!" he proclaimed, and the defending captain froze, immobilized. Ithil saw an opening and dashed through, landing beside a surprised crossbowman.

"Do you think I should go down now and help them?" Ramne, still at the top of the stairs, asked Mike. The fighter tested the rope where he had anchored it, and it seemed stable.

"Go ahead." Mike spoke grimly, drawing his sword as he at last started down the long tunnel. They had heard Selena's screams, and they did not bode well.

Somewhere ahead, Simon gave a startled yell as his feet were taken out from under him by Westwind, who had been knocked down by Azaki, and all hurtled down into the waiting spears. Halfling and half-orc picked themselves up, but the sorcerer didn't move.

Now, the party was beginning to even the score. Several of the defenders lay dead, and although Selena, monk of Ehlonna, had died at their hands and they had all come down an impossible attack route, their superior skill began to take its toll on those who faced them. Ithil was locked in combat; her opponent's sword had grievously wounded her, but she ducked and parried and her own blade struck home.

Suddenly, Mike lost his balance and slipped. Ramne, hardly paying attention, happened to miss him and, startled, watched him slide down the tunnel. He gained speed, and shouted as his momentum sent him launching over several of his compatriots to impact, fully armored, against the front line. Men staggered, giving him barely time to gain his feet, and now the entire party stood, or tumbled, before the defenders.

"Surrender!" Mike shouted over the din, and the stalwart defenders, unswayed, advanced. He didn't hesitate; he swung his blade. "Tel Khun!" The fighter's broadsword burst into magical flame, slicing and burning into the spearman who had attacked him. Kari tended to Simon's hurts, helping him away from the spears and back to where he could use his magic to better effect. A man in leather armor pressed home his attack on Ithil, but Simon's magic missile knocked him out and the elf, her back safely to the wall, could breathe a little easier.

One by one, the spearmen fell. Despite the unlikely attack, the party had overcome them with superior skill and strength, if not superior strategy. By the time Ramne arrived, only three of the soldiers clung to life. These were tended to and were left bound. Ithil, by right of conquest, claimed the magic sword which had wounded her.

"I know him." Ramne crouched over one of the fallen. "He was charmed not long ago." The old wizard recognized several of them, but the rest were strange to him. "Mercenaries, most likely." They arrayed the bodies and left the wounded as comfortably as they could.

Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, deep under the swamp as they were. Brief exploration of the surrounding tunnels showed no other defenders, so the party continued on along the route which Ramne had scryed. The passed through a large room, then approached the shore of a vast underground lake. A rowboat lay beached upon their side. The floated it, scanning the surface uneasily; ripples flowed in at the motion of large, unseen water denizens.

"Otters. No problem," Kespin reassured the party jauntily as he took his seat.

Ithil, having admitted to being the most experienced with a boat, took charge of transporting the entire party safely to the far shore. Occasional glimpses of large crocodiles spurred them onward, but with luck they were either too well armored or not interesting enough to the great beasts and eventually they all stood on the far shore.

Again Ramne directed them, and at a dim, dripping cross-way they turned down a long corridor. They ended at a door, and Ithil stepped up, tools at the ready. They waited. Finally, she shook her head and stepped back, and Borik took the more direct approach to the locked door.

Bang! He and the sturdy dwarf Glothe threw their shoulders into the sturdy door, and it gave, swinging open to reveal six large, ready troglodytes. Immediately, a veritable cloud of stench rose up around them and several of the party were overcome. Ithil was not, and she advanced, brandishing her new sword.

The troglodyte cried out in pain as she pierced its tough skin, the sword almost melting away the fleshy muscle as it cut. Kari followed up as she slipped into the room, not quite avoiding the blow of a stone axe on her shoulder. With the doorway clear, Westwind gave a yell and charged in, impaling a troglodyte twice his size on his short sword, and he was forced to jump out of the way as it fell.

Arrows and magic flew in from the corridor, slamming into unsuspecting troglodytes. Under the party's concerted attack, the room's defenders fell quickly, though not without taking a toll. Kari was wounded, and several were weakened by the stench of the troglodytes' defensive musk.

After a brief search, the adventurers continued on.

Here endeth the session, as excerpted from "An Illustrated History of Seblingham", scribed by Sage Zathras of Sunndi, 594 CY.