D&D Campaign Session for August 19th, 2001

Played with 3rd Edition Rules

Player Characters:

Azaki Ushento, Half-Orc Male Fighter, 3rd Level (Josh R.)
Borik, Half-Orc Male Barbarian, 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 Shamirbarkait, 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

The Sacred and the Profane

Flocktime 24th, 574 CY: In the Vast Swamp

We left the dead troglodytes behind us, but not their stench. The nauseating odor lingered in their living quarters, a squalid little room with dirty bedding and piles of rotting fish bones. Someone had been counting coin there, for there were several neat stacks of gold, silver and copper. We had no compunctions about taking it, for the troglodytes would have no further use for it; or else they would have it back ere long.

The stairs led us downward into a dank, muddy hallway. Its timbers barely shored it up, and water flowed down the walls in a quiet dripping and trickling. The mud deepened as we entered a large, dark cavern, creeping and flowing around a line of raised stepping stones. Something moved in the mud, silently.

With a cry, Kobort charged forward to attack it. He leapt from the relatively solid mud onto one of the slippery stones and his feet went out from under him: sword outstretched, he was engulfed in black, oozing mud and something slithered beneath the surface. In moments he had climbed back onto the stone and could see his attacker, and in the blink of an eye he had sliced the huge leech clean off of his arm and blood mingled with the fluid floor.

Carefully, the party began to cross the stepping stones. All of us kept our eyes open for the rippling patches of mud that signified the giant leeches as we picked our way across. I planted my feet and helped Kobort across with his full packs -- I think he has even picked up fish bones from the troglodyte cave, from the stench of his backpack -- and while the bard awaited his turn to cross, he busied himself by picking the small, common leeches from the wall and flicking them at Kessem. She studiously ignored his efforts.

We managed to string a rope across the cavern, and with that as a guide, the last few of us crossed. The only one to lose his footing was Glothe, and in three-foot mud he was up to his shoulders in filth and leeches. Kobort happened to be close enough to pull him out and slice off the leech which had attached itself to a most inconvenient spot. He even muttered a few words and the mud slid from Glothe's armor, leaving him clean, but after that, our dwarven friend had to be carried across. I think I heard him squealing at the movements beneath the muddy surface, but I hope it was only the squeaking of his armor.

We had just finished coiling and stowing the rope and were continuing forward when beside me Borik whirled toward a side passage, growled and started off. I grabbed him.

"Where are you going?" I demanded.

"Chief." Borik didn't waste words. "I go kill him now."

"Wait. We'll handle this as a party." I still hadn't heard anything from the hallway, and according to Ramne it was the passage that led to the temple, and not to the Naga. Still, we couldn't afford to leave anyone behind us.

"I go kill him now!" Borik had already started to work himself into his battle rage. I let him go and passed word back. Kobort was right behind him, and Simon hard on the cleric's heels at mention of action. Deina and Riis followed them at a run while I stayed back to help in a rear guard. I muttered a prayer to Saint Cuthbert, but it didn't help Borik in the end.

Muffled by the twists and turns of the corridor, we could hear Borik's guttural war cry and the clash of weapons on armor; I heard Kobort shout Heironeous' name and Deina call on Pholtus when Kari alerted us to a softer, approaching sound. By common consent we chose a line across the cavern to defend and within seconds a large, wormlike creature had slithered up from the mud behind us. The size of a large orc and about as attractive, it attacked us with slime-covered tentacles. I invoked my sword and sidestepped, slicing a burning gash across the whole top of it, and beside me Kespin and Glothe finished it off before it could strike.

A few of us stayed behind while Odlits tried to find something useful about the carrion crawler's corpse. The rest of us moved ahead to where the sounds of battle still raged, but it was nearly over. Lantern light barely reached to where Borik and Kobort sliced through the Orc Chieftain's guard, all considerably better armed and armored than the last orcs we fought. Borik's rage finally carried him through to reach his nemesis, leaving a pair of sturdy orcs cut in half in his wake. Bloodied with open wounds, he snarled as he faced down the beast which had killed his mother. At the chief's first blow, he staggered and nearly fell, but Deina was close enough to catch him and fortify him. He shook it off and stood his ground, shaking with rage as he raised his greataxe for what should have been a killing blow.

The Chieftain smiled as he chopped Borik in half.

"You bastard..." Blood frothed at his mouth as the determined half-orc cursed with what remained of his last breath, and he tumbled in a grisly pile to the tunnel floor.

Kobort finished off the last of the Chieftain's guards as Deina and Riis advanced, intent now on revenge for our sturdy companion's untimely death. Outmatched now, the orc backed toward the thick door at the far end of the corridor, but he got no further.

"By the power of Heironeous, I command you to HOLD!" Kobort yelled, longsword outstretched. Raw power shimmered through the earth and air and the Chieftain froze, still smiling maniacally.

Deina smiled back, a cruel expression. Knowing the frozen orc could still see and understand everything, she very deliberately struck the killing blow.

"Get away from the door!" Ramne's voice quavered from the crosspoint of the hallway. "It is warded!" The old wizard stepped forward through the carnage to inspect the various runes and markings which surrounded the entrance to what we were sure was the Naga's temple.

Satisfied, Deina and Riis pulled the orc Chieftain's rigid body aside while Kobort intoned an orcish prayer and shoved Borik's body in a sack to carry with us. Azaki hefted the Chief's greataxe; with Borik now gone, there was none other who cared to claim the weapon. Others were searching the rest of the bodies for coin.

"Anyone mind if I take this?" Even with a few charred spots from Ramne's magic, the dead Chief's armor was of better make than Kespin's, and the bard was already defacing the snake insignia on it so that he could make use of it.

When the party had finished gathering and stacking the orc bodies before the door, Kespin, newly attired, joined Westwind in scouting the southern corridor. We waited several minutes, and I was about to follow to see what had become of them when they returned, reporting a flowing river and a boat. We followed the map instead, which guided us north through a cavern filled with a mud slurry.

As we have many words for stone of all kinds, I can only imagine that troglodytes and other swamp creatures have a thousand words for mud.

Several large burrow-like holes lined the walls.

"Centipedes, most likely." Someone muttered behind us, and Ithil struck out through the flowing earth to investigate. No sooner had she gotten into the cavern than she was surrounded, and more agile centipedes were scurrying across the surface of the mud toward her. I dropped my sword and unslung my bow. An arrow flew past me to embed itself into a centipede, and mine struck another; both creatures sunk and were carried beneath the mud floes.

Ithil flung herself out of the deep mud, almost seeming to roll over the top of it as she momentarily outpaced her pursuers toward us. Kobort, Azaki and Glothe each waded forward to meet the centipede swarm as it again surrounded the elf. From the edge of the mud, we pinioned the last of those in the open: no more had emerged from the burrows. I saw one of those around Ithil launched several feet by a blow from Kobort although one of them latched onto him in return; but between the four of them they had the fight well in hand.

The last centipede was slowly sinking when Westwind struck out along the corridor's edge where the mud was not so deep. Glothe again waded free of shoulder-deep muck, vainly trying to rub some of it off. We would all get dirtier before the day was done; I retrieved my sword and took my place again in our columns.

The troglodyte stench grew stronger as we advanced along a westward passage. Behind us to the east, a faint creaking could be heard, almost like a ship with ropes and pulleys floating on moving water. Still, we followed Ramne's scryed directions and moved ahead.

Suddenly, from out of the darkness came a round, flying shape that resolved itself into a wicker cage stuffed full to bursting: burst it did, just in front of us. The freed mud viper launched itself at us, hissing and furious.

My sword flamed -- I barely recall speaking the rune -- and sliced into it. Ithil's arrow caught a vital spot and the fight was over in a heartbeat's pulse, quickened by action. In the flame-lit dim, a line of troglodytes advanced with their awkward, paddling gait, better suited to mud than we. Behind me, I heard Kespin strike up a cheerful chant: "Spirit Nagas are wussies, Troglodytes are soft, Snakes are squishy and easily off'd..." I would have smiled had I not been overcome with the foul reptilian odor just then, but Kobort charged forward with an enthusiastic shout and arrows and bolts flew past me to sink into greenish scaly hide.

The troglodytes began to retreat, and the sibilant voice of the Naga was commanding them.

"She wants them to draw us in!" Ithil warned, translating the hissed speech as Kessem moved up and pulled out a wand; others in the party moved aside to let her get a good view of the pack of troglodytes. The Naga was nowhere to be seen, but her army continued to respond to her echoing commands.

"Kashh-ct!" The elven wizard spoke with power, and the wand responded. It sparked, its runes glowed with a wavering brightness, and a glowing pea shot out of its tip, arced overhead and landed amid the gathering horde to explode in a brilliant flash of heat and flame. Seven of the creatures were dead or dying, but more advanced warily to form a line of defense.

Another of Kessem's fireballs exploded amid the troglodyte ranks, and then one exploded on top of us. Behind the line of battle in the cavern, coiled on a small rise, was the Spirit Naga.

She was a large snake, a constrictor in body with the face of a woman, an eerie combination in the best of times.

Azaki fell from the force of the blast and Kespin's song was silenced behind me. We realized the fireball had come from the Naga, and knew we couldn't withstand another. Deina gestured, and silence enveloped the snake-creature.

I could see her writhing in pain from the horrible fire burns on her scales even as the troglodytes began to charge forward in her defense. Then Odlits cast, his voice echoing strangely in the cavern with the magic he wielded. Even from a distance I could tell that he had blinded her; she began to flee, colliding with stalactites and the walls until she finally halted again in the center of the cavern, helplessly confused.

The whole of the battle took only a few minutes when counted. Fiery explosions roasted more troglodytes, more dropped into magical sleep in front of me. Others we killed the old-fashioned way, but in the end, not a single beast survived.

Kobort rejoined us, stepping bloody and jubilant over the last felled troglodyte, and helped our wounded companions to their feet along with Kari and Deina. We spread out to explore the immense cavern and discovered side passages which ended in wicker walls.

"Mud vipers." Ramne declared at one of the constructed walls. "Filled with them." The wall remained opaque to me, but he was sure of it and none saw reason to test his theory. We still had yet to find the eggs, and the old man pointed us down the other passage toward them.

Halfway down the sloping passageway, Glothe happened to look up.

"Hey, take a look at that," he commented to Ithil, beside him. "There's a trap door in the ceiling."

"I don't see it." Ithil peered up at the ceiling. "Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure." He couldn't resist gloating, just a little, at his find. "Hey, hold up!" The dwarf shouted to the rest of us in front of him. "I want to have a look."

"Not with us in front of you," I protested. I was not the only one who could imagine nasty things dropping from ceiling doors into the crowded hallway, and none of us was anxious to test whether it was a 'trap' door or not. We filed back up the hallway and left Glothe and Ithil to do their work, bickering all the while. We could hear them even up to the top of the cavern.

"Hoist me up there, I want to check it out."

"No way!" the slender elf protested. "I'm the expert in these things. You won't even know what to look for." The dwarf's armor clattered, and his next words were muffled.

"I'm the one who saw it in the first place. Hey, quit stepping on my face!"

Then, Kespin got a gleam in his eye, stood, brushed off his bloody armor and cloak, and began to recite a poem -- it was supposed to be in elvish, but he translated it well and substituted the names in it for those of our odd couple. A poem of two lovers... Ithil and Glothe. I cannot do it justice here, but as they worked the two of them could hear the gales of laughter our bard elicited from the party.

Finally, Ithil's shrill, sarcastic tone broke up the performance.

"Shut up out there and get yourselves back down here!"

The sniggering ceased when we passed under the trap door and saw Ithil at the bottom, warding us away from a carefully marked square in the floor.

"Door's unlocked, don't step on the pressure plate," she graciously waved us toward the door where Glothe waited, looking smug. I didn't ask why.

They were expecting us when we entered, but it didn't help them. We burst in the door to the hatching room and were confronted by several large, ferocious troglodytes. Behind them, the watery floor was a mass of egg clusters, many of them writhing as they began to hatch. Tiny, new-hatched monsters were crawling awkwardly from their shells, all teeth and stench.

Horrified, I swung my sword, invoked its flame and clove through two of the adult guards. Beside me, Kobort and Westwind engaged two more, and between us and the rest of the party we made short work of them. Then there were only eggs and hatchlings remaining.

"For Sunndi and Saint Cuthbert!" I lit a flask of oil and threw it into the center of the room where it smashed.

"And Heironeous!" Kobort added enthusiastically. Flames rose from the water where the oil floated, burning and shriveling the fragile shells and bodies. Tiny cries echoed, ignored by the party; better to kill them in the shell than have them ravage the swamps.

From there, the southern corridor was unused. No tracks were visible, even to the rangers among us, and there was nothing but that strange creaking sound we had heard before. We did not take the time to explore it then, instead intending to find and clear the way to the Naga's lair. The ghouls we found in the main cavern only distracted us briefly as Deina raised her hands and invoked Pholtus' light. Instantly, the creatures shriveled to dust.

Then, Kobort determined to discover whatever creature lurked behind the last wicker wall. We had heard its roaring, seemingly distant and huge, and we were none of us keen for another battle just yet. The half-orc regarded the wall, poked at it, and finally took a dagger and cut a hole in it.

"What do you see?"

"Ooh." Kobort's fascinated exclamation mingled with a new roar from whatever he peered at, but he didn't move back; in fact, he simply continued to grin and occupy the peephole as if he were viewing an elvish dancer.

"Move out of the way, y'big oaf," Westwind chimed, stretching up toward the hole.

"Pay me gold piece, you can have look," Kobort bargained playfully, flattening a huge hand over the hole to claim it and holding out the other for donations.

Westwind sighed impatiently.

"Fine." He dug into his pouch and produced a gold piece, slapping it onto the cleric's palm. With an effort, the halfling stood tall enough on his toes just to see over the uneven rim. He frowned at what he saw.

"It's a big lizard," He told the others. "A big lizard. Chained to the wall."

"That's enough," Kobort proclaimed, grasping hold of the wicker wall. "Now you all see."

"Hey, watch it!" Westwind nearly had to dodge out of the way, and the lizard beyond recoiled as the wall crashed inward. It roared, and strained toward us at the limit of its chain.

Ramne shuffled forward, hunched in his druidic personality, and waved us back peremptorily.

"I'll handle this." The old man stood, unruffled, before the huge saurian, spread his arms calmingly and looked steadily into the beast's eyes. Before long, it stopped its pacing and roaring and it regarded him, wary but calm. Slowly, Ramne lowered his hands and stepped back.

"It's safe now. Go on through."

We trusted him, but left nothing to chance and kept beyond the reach of the chain as we passed. It did not seem inclined to attack us, and we left it behind.

The passageway opened into a broad cavern lit with a greenish light. Tall illuminating pillars stretched from below the calm surface of the underground lake to reflect off the rough limestone roof, finely wrought. A boat had been drawn up onto the rocky, mud-smeared shelf before it dropped off into the depths of the lake, and scaly tracks showed the clear trail of the Naga's passage. We were certain that her lair lay across the lake, although from where we stood we could not discern a far shore.

Kobort, Glothe, Kessem and Ithil put the boat in the water and climbed in. Glothe wanted to have a look at the stonework of the pillars, so steered the boat close to one. As he inspected it, Kessem reached out with a dagger to scrape off a magical sample.

"No, wait--" Glothe's warning was cut off abruptly as the pillar exploded in a flash of light. The whole bow of the boat was gone, blown off by the blast, and the craft was sinking fast. Kobort quickly shed his pack and began to paddle for the shore and Kessem recovered her wits enough to cling to some of the wreckage, but Glothe was unconscious as he slipped below the surface. I grabbed a rope and cast out an end to Ithil, who was trying to keep herself and the dwarf above the water.

Beside me, Ramne underwent a remarkable transformation. I was only able to observe the process later, and I cannot truly describe it even so. Over the space of several heartbeats, the old man reshaped himself into the form of a porpoise, long and sleek and grey. He slipped into the water with a flick of his powerful tail and sped across the lake to help Kessem to shore while I towed Ithil on the rope. Much faster than we could have pulled or swum them in, they were all on shore again and a few extra things which the druid had found on the bottom of the lake.

Under our healers' tender care, Glothe soon awoke with a protesting cough.

"You stupid, leaf-loving elf!" The dwarf spat at Kessem instantly. "What did I miss?" He sat up on the dirty stone and tugged at his wet, disarrayed clothing. "Last thing I knew, that elf touched the pillar." He paused to take stock of himself, and spotted a rope tied around his arm. "Whose is this?" He worked the knot loose and slid it off. Ithil frowned and said nothing. "Silk," Glothe observed the strong loop that had been fastened to him, presumably to keep him from drowning.

"I think it's hers." I looked at Ithil, who looked uncomfortable as Glothe began to stare.

"It was just to drag your stuff back to shore." She grumped and crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.

"No, no, here's how you do it." Nearby, Odlits grinned at his stunned audience as he effortlessly levered open a small coffer. Ramne had brought it up from the lake bottom and it had been stuck fast, and most of the party had already tried their hands at it.

"I loosened it for you first," someone pouted good-naturedly.

The scrawny half-orc wizard rifled through the contents of the coffer and began to mutter as he held up a ring. "Magic." He turned the ring over in his palm, and Kobort became curious.

"What it do?" Before Odlits could stop him, he had plucked the ring from the wizard's hand.

"I don't know yet."

"Then we see!" Without hesitation, Kobort slipped the magic ring on his finger. "I know!" Assuredly, he strode off the ledge onto the water and promptly sank. Large bubbles rose to the surface. For an instant, the party was simply stunned.

Then we sprang to action. I grabbed the sodden rope and dropped the end into the water while behind me the others lined up to help brace it. Concealed in the dark water, Kobort found the rope and we began to pull him up. As he rose toward us, I began to see him rising through the muddy water. At first, I thought it was a mirage, a trick of the light, but for just a moment I would have sworn that I was pulling him from the water by a longsword. The water around him glowed with a pure light and as if from a distance, I heard a deep voice intone:

"Follow him."

Then it faded.

"Kobort?!" The questioning exclamation behind me spurred me back into action and I helped the soggy cleric up out of the water. Kespin and Westwind had stepped up and were both staring at him, much as I guess I myself was.

"You heard it too?" I had to ask. Both nodded.

"Hey, Mike, thanks for lowering the sword for me," Kobort was saying. I stammered something about a rope, I think. By then, the rest of the party had gotten curious and had gathered around us.

"What's going on?" "Is he all right?" "Heard what? What happened?"

Kobort began to relate to the others his vision. As he stood on the bottom of the lake, Heironeous had come to him and given him a quest to lead.

"And then I grabbed the hilt of the sword and Mike pulled me up, and he was glowing -- and so were you, and you." He nodded at Westwind and Kespin, and we exchanged glances. I have to admit that if I ever thought of being part of a divine quest, I never expected to be following a half-orc.

"How do you know it was Heironeous?" someone queried.

"Who else would talk to me?" To Kobort, the origins of the message were clear and he couldn't fathom why anyone would doubt.

I forced myself to work, coiling the rope neatly to have a chance to think while the others milled about. For as long as I can remember, Yorick and Mora guided me to follow Saint Cuthbert, and with the gods' touch so often felt upon this world it is not difficult to have faith. Yet while Saint Cuthbert and Heironeous often have a similar purpose, I have never thought much about the latter until this past month of adventuring with Kobort.

My mind was a-whirl, and I knelt and prayed to bring back some focus. Kobort was already kneeling at his longsword, praying aloud in orcish and I listened to the rough, strange language so devoutly spoken.

After a few minutes, my thoughts began to settle, although I could come to no real conclusions save one: that we four had been touched with divine guidance. Although Kobort had been wearing a magic ring, the experience did not seem to have the taint of magic to it. The ring had been returned to Odlits for examination -- I vaguely remember Kespin trying to cajole it from Kobort when he first came from the water, but I stopped paying attention to it. The wizards will study it and will let us know what it does.

Eventually, the party overcame its general shock and Westwind, Kespin, Kobort and I had each come to some kind of terms with our shared experience. We returned to the more pressing problem of crossing the lake to reach the Naga's lair.

"Heironeous tell me go to Temple," Kobort insisted. "We go to temple."

Ramne protested.

"There may be prisoners still kept in her lair. You all may go where you wish, but I must see to them."

It was Kespin who engineered the solution.

"We think there's a back entrance to the temple from the Naga's lair," he told Kobort. "Right, guys?" Of course, none of us had any idea if there was or wasn't, but it was a sound enough theory and convenient. Not without a slight twinge of guilt, I followed his lead and nodded. Westwind was doing the same; Kobort was satisfied and we proceeded as a single party. Ramne shifted his shape into that of a porpoise once more and was able to ferry each of us around the glowing pillars and across the broad lake to the far, darkened shore.

What greeted us was a glittering hoard piled indiscriminately upon rock and debris and intermixed with discarded bones: human, humanoid and even troglodytes had been consumed by the Naga in her greed. We spent some time searching the cavern and found a great many things -- intricate masonry, works of art, carvings, coin and more, all taken from her victims and worshippers by force or by charm.

We found that a passage led from the shoreline to end abruptly in a wall. Immediately Ithil and Glothe began inspecting the area for the concealed door we knew must be there; shortly, they found it and revealed a hidden study.

The study appeared to be the Naga's administrative headquarters -- not that I ever considered that a Spirit Naga would need such a thing, but she appears to have been engaged in spreading the influence of evil far beyond her own growing cult. There were letters received and letters to be sent bearing names; she expected to meet with someone named "Lamonsten" to discuss the progress of Syril in the southern swamp, a letter to the priest Abramo in Seblingham inquiring about his operations in Pawford, and a letter from "Lareth" to ask if the Spirit Naga could make room in her temple for one of his clerics.

In her study was also the finest map I have ever seen. Most of the Flannaes was wrought in detail and labeled in common, but several places were marred by annotations in draconic text. Ithil and Odlits agreed that it was some kind of code.

"Hey, that great map," Kobort pushed in closer to see. "It tell you where to go."

We didn't understand him at first, but as he tried to explain, we realized that for him, several places on the map had been glowing. He tried to mark them on the map itself, but Ramne -- the wizard, now, I think -- stopped him. I had to agree. The map was much too fine to be subjected to Kobort's notes, especially if his handwriting style matches his usual exuberance. He recorded the various places in this journal instead, much to the old man's relief. The closest of these places is in the Menowood, and the rest are scattered across the known world.

I begin to think we may be traveling far, if these are indeed places we are supposed to go.

We packed the letters and the map carefully for later study and proceeded onward. Ithil and Glothe had discovered a second secret door and we readied ourselves to go through as they worked the mechanism to open it. A snake visage turned toward us as the door opened -- a statue, so finely carved as to seem real was connected to the opening levers to cause the movement. Jeweled eyes reflected our lantern light.

Riis led the way in, and was immediately attacked. I felt a chill that recalled the deep crypt in the caves and as I stepped inside after Kobort, I saw before me a pair of burning eyes just as I did in that crypt.

The undead wight ignored Kobort's holy power and came at us. Riis struck a solid blow and it turned its attention to me. Tel Khun flamed brightly through the air and passed cleanly through the dry, rotting corpse, and the two halves fell to the ground in a broken heap. The dust settled into sudden silence.

The room was otherwise empty. We overturned the statue on principle and used the pieces to smash down the next door. We knew that at least the outer door was warded, and had no wish to subject ourselves to such magic, even if it meant the tedious process of cracking every door with blunt stone.

The series of chambers we passed through were a collection of horrors. The first was massively desecrated as a place to raise ever stronger undead of all kinds. Kobort chanted and prayed, but finally had to admit that even his cleansing was not nearly sufficient. The following chamber had several tables, stained with blood and other fluids to tell of torturous fates for those unlucky enough to end up there. Faint cries reached us from behind a door.

After Kobort ran himself through the solid door, we entered to find several cells. Only two of them were still full: a young boy and girl from Seblingham looked bedraggled and haunted, and the other cell held three adults.

Ramne recognized the woman and the children immediately and named them. The children, Tom and Belinda, the carpenter's children, had been missing since a few days before we set out. The woman was Joliah, who had been taken with her husband; her husband had been taken and charmed, and we had seen no sign of him. The two men were strangers to Seblingham. One introduced himself as Dinton from Hookhill, and the other was a merchant from the Pawford(??) area. As we worked to free all of them, Kespin struck up a song to entertain them. I think he likes that Giant Slayers ballad, because he keeps singing it, and the children enjoyed the music and were properly impressed while Ithil worked on the lock to their cell.

When we continued onward, we kept our charges sheltered in the center of our party, and it was well that we did. The next room seemed to be the main temple, with tall columns carved with the same workmanship as the lake columns. They seem somehow older and different than the rest of this complex -- there are many mysteries still to solve about this place.

The temple was guarded by two zombies: Ramne recognized them as former villagers from Seblingham. It is well that the children did not have to see those abominations. Deina spread her arms and the undead cowered before her and we cut them down only to have them rise again, fearsome in their aspect. We did not shrink from them but struck forcefully and again they fell. They did not stir again. We burned their remains, the best we could do to send their souls to final rest.

The last door exploded as we bashed at it with rock, tumbling and rending the piled orc corpses on the far side. The carnage was no more horrific than those in Seblingham had already seen, but we still tried to shield the townspeople from it -- probably with little success.

We suffered no further attacks as we worked our way out of the dank tunnels, and we lost none to the deep mud. We have brought all the villagers we found who are still alive out of the underground complex and we have buried our dead.

Kobort spoke words over Borik's grave and for the villagers who were killed and corrupted by the Spirit Naga's influence. For all his rough manner, I think that the townspeople who now share our fire were grateful for the service to their friends. Ramne has been uncharacteristically open with these people from Seblingham, reassuring them when he has been used to simply watch from afar.

He has also offered up prayers to his god, Obad-hai, that Ehlonna might see fit to grant Selena her next life upon Oerth soon enough that we may again enjoy her company. The process will take all night, but by morning we will know if his prayers have been granted.

Flocktime 25th, 574 CY: In the Vast Swamp

Ramne the druid sits still beside the earthen mound which has grown there overnight and prays. It is morning again and an air of expectation hangs over the quiet camp. The ground seems to be stirring, and something is emerging from the dirt.

Selena has been reborn. Although she has a different form now and remembers only parts of her former life, she is quiet and thoughtful and carries Selena's spirit within her. We are all, and perhaps that even includes Glothe, glad to have her back. I will grant that it is strange to see a small gnome at our fire when just yesterday she walked with us as a human, but we will get used to it in time.

After he had rested, I spoke with Ramne about many things. He has told me much about the origins of the peoples of this area and of the Great Kingdom, and has also given me much to think about.

I did not speak about Heironeous' quest, and have come to no better understanding for myself, but I find I am content to see it through to its end, whatever that may be. Reddof still awaits us at the Keep, tended to by Saint Cuthbert's priests, and I must still find a resolution for him.

Here endeth the session, as excerpted and translated from the journal of Mike.