Sharn Reference - Organizations

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DM Changes for Sharn

With the party now in Sharn and ready to start the next campaign arc, I set about changing a bunch of stuff.

First, I decided to explicitly ignore most components for spells, and stuff like arrows and bolts. Originally, I had them finding dead adventurer pouches (or other caches) here and there, or giving them opportunities to buy/acquire any needed reagents… but the whole process just seemed tedious. If a player wants to track his reagents or arrows they can. If they want to limit themselves and say “they ran out of x” for RP purposes, I’m all for it. But in the average session, it seems like a waste of time to fret about the small stuff here.

Second, I decided to get rid of coins. Genre-savvy players know to loot all the things, and while patting down every corpse for valuables can be good RP fodder (“we’re brigands now!”), the process just seemed tedious. So, they aren’t financial planners… but they are seasoned adventurers, so it seemed like a decent enough arrangement to have some vague financial stability. They have enough from their previous adventures to cover basic costs (food, arms), and enjoy the rest. The door remains open for financial hardship adventure hooks, but penny-pinching and just-scraping-by aren’t the norm.

Third, I’m revamping loot. The change and thought process deserves an expanded post later, but for now, I’ve decided to work up a list of a few items/consumables for each character, and keep them on hand. If the party does something interesting and the loot is appropriate, they get some pre-picked loot (got a great example of this coming up in a few sessions).

Fourth, I decided to introduce elements of another RP system into the campaign. The system is called Gumshoe, and can be found in “Trail of Cthulhu” RP game. Essentially, this system aims to improve investigative experiences for RPGs. Instead of making players roll dice when a potential clue is encountered (leading to the possibility of missed clues due to poor dice rolling), the system just gives the players the clue, provided the PCs have relevant skills to suss out in game. If the party doesn’t have the skills, they may not get the clue, or get a distorted version of it. Thus, the game’s focus and tension shifts from acquiring clues to interpreting them. Very cool.

Introducing Gumshoe elements is a bit of a big deal for the arc. Sharn is rife with intrigue, and the aims of the system should fit well in the world. I decided to adopt the spirit of the system in two ways:

·         Essentially, adopting the system as intended. Should the players wish to investigate an area, their skill proficiencies come into play. If investigating a murder scene, for example, proficiency in Survival would give them better clues (if there was a struggle, possible murder weapon, etc).

·         Taking the idea of proficiencies and areas of expertise and using it to tie the players to Sharn.

The second bullet point needs a little more explanation. Basically in game, the party arrived in Sharn, and instead of dealing day-to-day, we’re sticking a week or so of elapsed game time in between sessions. So, each member has some down time, and gets to explore the vast, complex city on their own a bit. I gave them each a few areas, persons and/or organizations (I provided the players with a summary sheet, but encouraged them to utilize the wiki or ask for more info). When the party would encounter these areas, persons or organizations, the relevant party member could speak up and educate the rest of the party a little bit. Week to week they might learn something new, or get a tip from an associate leading to some new adventure or add a facet to an upcoming one.

As DM, I still needed to do most all of the grunt work to incorporate the second bullet point. Things need to be summarized a little and then disseminated, but in-game, it has been a nifty way to get players to “own” some section of knowledge and educate the rest of the party (more-or-less) in character.

So, those are the big changes I looked to make kicking off the new arc. I’ve got cool things planned for Sharn, and a handful more session recaps to catch up on before we get caught up to the current sessions. 

DM Thoughts Train Sessions

The lightning rail is pretty iconic for this world, and it seemed like a cool way to get the party to Sharn. I used a bunch of grid paper to make a bunch of narrow (20 ft wide) train cars, revealing/swapping out the paper on the table for the current car as the party progressed. Since this was a train, there was really only a 5' wide unhinded path through each car - though there were tons of booths, compartments, tables.. etc depending on the car.

My original assumption was that the party would take cover; the ranged players would attack from a distance and the bruisers would leapfrog up the car from one piece of cover to the next until they were able to close with the baddies. I don’t think that possibility ever even occurred to them. Instead, doors would open, and it would immediately be a mad rush to the fight.

I wanted to try to make a constrained encounter area, and still have interesting fights, but as mentioned above, they kinda turned into a cluster. My planning was done when we had stronger ranged options (see my assumptions above)… but then the ranger rerolled in favor of a melee fighter, so we had 4 bruisers (monk, barbarian, fighter, rogue) and one ranged (wizard, technically the rogue still had a bow, though it was unused).

I was caught flat-footed by the party’s insistence to interrogate their antagonists mid-fight. I think they may want an arch nemesis, and expected some kind of recurring Big Bad to be introduced or mentioned here. Their decision to go all Batman on this group and turn them into the authorities was unexpected – as they were just throwaway baddies. There is the possibility of these warforged (well, their group) returning, but I have other things planned currently for this arc...

For rewards, the party got a guided tour of Sharn, and I encouraged them to look at the wiki on Sharn; how helpful the tour actually was, was essentially up to them. (I don’t think anyone actually looked at it.) For apprehending the warforged leader, I set them up with House Ghallanda, who would help introduce them a bit to the world and ground them a bit.

For the next campaign arc, I wanted to shake up a bunch of stuff from a DM perspective. I’ll have more on those things in another post; this is just thoughts on the session.

Eberron Adventure: Thirteenth Session

The party regarded each other, though said nothing as they stood in the wrecked passenger car, electricity crackling up from the lodestones as the train continued on rhythmically and inexorably towards Sharn.



The human monk Turning continued to scratch at the back of his head, where an odd symbol had (unknowingly to him) appeared after the fight with the mindflayers and undead dragon. The human wizard Kyllar reread the note from the dead dwarf, which described him, the monk, and had a picture of an odd little man named Falco Burrows, who looks ridiculously like their halfling rogue companion Shadowale, if the drawing was even remotely accurate. Shadowale shrugged, rifling through the bodies almost absentmindedly, though finding nothing interesting. No one else seeming inclined to do much of anything, so the newcomer to the party, the dragonborn fighter Rhogar suggested maybe they press on and deal with whatever this train thing was? It is going faster and faster now…



The party agreed, putting all discussions on the proverbial back burner. As best they could in the tight quarters of the train, the party took up positions around the door to the next car, and flung open the doors. They peered inside, viewing what remained of a dining car (a very pleasing sign saying “Welcome to Snarg’s Bistro” hung in pieces on the wall, broken by massive crossbow bolts.



The tables and chairs were overturned, and a few warforged hunkered down behind cover, cutlery flying past them furiously, but sitting exposed to the party. Someone back in the kitchen snarled to bring more cutlery, but not the “good, fancy stuff!” and the party decided to move.



All but Kyllar jostled over one another to enter the fray and engage the warforged,  A warforged with a large katar in each hand charged the party, while the other warforged reloaded and turned to bring their powerful mechanical crossbows to bear on targets more threatening than kitchen staff. The warforged were quickly dispatched by the party, without telling their betters for whom they were working, despite Turnin almost inventing T-ball on the spot be repeatedly cracking and separating mechanical skulls from mechanical spines.

With their immediate foes vanquished, the party took up position behind the overturned tables, and politely asked for an immediate cessation to cutlery throwing in the car. From behind an overturned table, pushcart and a sturdy serving tray, a satyr-like beast peered out, long mustaches curling at the end of his goat-like snout. Learning that the warforged had been dispatched, Snarg announced himself, and with a flourish, emerged from the kitchen, trailed by his shell shocked line cook, Zoop. Zoop was mute and still shaking with fear, so Snarg spoke with the party, though could not tell them much aside from “zhere vas a “boom” un dan ze warforged, un ze shooting, un dan ze hiding un much throwing of ze cutlery… und now, you all, und chatting.” The party convince Snarg and Zoop to travel toward the rear of the train, past the orc fighter and towards the rest of the passengers.


The party pressed on, entering a another sleeper car, and began methodically searching each compartment, netting the poor Gnofulk some much-needed coin. One door was unlocked, but blocked by something immense and clad in plate metal. Rhogar pushed as hard as he could and Gnofulk managed to squeeze into the room to find the large stoic paladin from the station. Gnofulk push/wrestled/grappled the paladin onto the edge of the bed, and began attempts to awaken the sleeping, still-masked plate-clad behemoth, who slowly was roused, and began trying to draw his sword muttering “friend or foe?” Shadowale mindfully re-sheathed the paladin’s sword and emphatically repeated “friend!” while giving a thumbs-up.

The paladin relates that he heard an explosion, but due to his size and the cramped train quarters, the aftershock shook the car, and he knocked himself out on the low ceiling. As it turns out, the paladin, Asmund, is a member of the Wayward Blades, which Kyllar recognizes as the same order as that Sora, the dragonborn paladin from so long ago (session 2?) who gave the advice to never split the party, belonged to. Kyllar asks if the name Sora is familiar to Asmund; it isn’t (one may recall that they members are paladins errant, and so would not often bump into one another outside of Sharn), and so Kyllar resolves to speak with Asmund later on the subject. Presently Rhogar also speaks with Asmund, wondering if Asmund has any healing skills, but Asmund informs the dragonborn that he “is not that kind of paladin,” and gestures to his long, heavy looking sword for emphasis.

A sense of duty finally brings the massive paladin to his feet, but he is not in the best of shape (still a bit concussed) and still massive. He offers to be the rearguard for the party, since anyone behind him will have trouble getting around him in the tight quarters, and begins to emit a faintly radiant aura, boosting the damage of the party members nearby. The party piles up at the front of the car, opens the door-

-and Rhogar immediately takes another pair of massive bolts from some warforged sentries, with more warforged stirring at the front of the car. Kyllar hurls a massive fireball towards the warforged, grievously injuring most of the sentries, melting some of their metallic bits, and then ducks behind a bench for cover, tugging ineffectually at Rhogar, while Gnofulk raged and engaged katar-wielding warforged. Turnin bounded over Gnofulk, swinging wildly in the air. Shadowale bounced up and over the benches, slicing through the warforged’s weak spots while Kyllar resuscitates Rhogar. The party was brutally efficient, and had dispatched these sentries before Asmund could advance close enough for his aura to help, though the goals of the warforged still eluded the party.


As the party prepared to continue on, Asmund admitted defeat – he was in too poor of shape to physically assist. He instead blessed the party, and reclined on a bench, sword ready and guarding the party’s rear as they continued on, towards the engine at the front of the train.

Entering the next car, a storage car, the party crept about, inspecting crates for possible clues or magical items, but found nothing. As they went to move into the next car, they found the door locked. Lacking a key, Shadowale attempted to pick the lock but failed. In the middle of his second lengthy attempt, the door slid open, scattering the lock pit kit and the party found their path blocked by two more warforged, who immediately proceeded to start slicing with their katars, intend on keeping the party from entering the engine.


A trio of warforged with the mechanical crossbows worked the controls on a raised command platform ahead, and a tall warforged, with more ornate armor and markings, instructed his underlings. From behind the doorway scuffle Turnin demanded to know who these warforged were, but the warforged was too distracted to respond. Fed up with a one-sided discussion, Turnin resorted to a more direct and universal approach to communication, and flung a dart at the warforged leader, who cinematically and deftly deflected it with blades extending from his forearms.

Bottlenecked, the party shuffled in the doorway trying to get the odd hit in. Rhogar attempted to taunt one of the katar-wielders, and again Kyllar lobbed a fireball just over the heads of those in the doorway fight onto the platform, again to grievous effect.

The party eventually broke through, and the warforged commander instructed his injured underlings to kill the party or just flee. Shadowale and Turning deftly disengaged from the remaining foe in the doorway and dashed up to the platforms to examine the controls and lightning elemental. The Warforged made ineffectual attacks, being used to attacking at range, and soon just flung themselves from the train engine’s windows while Gnofulk advanced to the center of the room to begin slugging it out with the leader. Not able to make any headway with the controls, Turnin flipped back and vented some frustration into the warforged commander, stunning him. Rhogar advanced, and unleashed a breath of fire upon him, and Gnofulk landed a telling blow, incapacitating but not killing his foe.

Kyllar looked around, recognized this room as an engine, similar to the one found in the rear of the train, and found the phone, which was essentially hanging off the hook, and used it to call the stowaway engineer the party had happened upon at the start of this cramped ordeal.

The engineer walks the party through the steps to reduce speed of the train, and once the immediate threat of possible derailment is averted, wanders up to the front of the car with Gofer, who as a member of House Orien, is able to decipher the controls. The party keeps collective watch over their prisoner as Gofer and the stowaway engineer bring the train safely to Sharn….



Upon arrival, the train is diverted to a House Orien train yard. The House, working with Sharn’s City Watch, tends to the wounded and interviews the passengers, with particular interest in the party, as they had, by all accounts foiled the plot and saved the day.






Through their various debriefings, the party is able to piece together that these warforged are essentially terrorists, and aimed to crash a speeding train into the city to cause destruction and mayhem. House Orien hired some more bellicose parties to apprehend those warforged that had flung themselves from the train; being warforged they were quite durable, and given enough time, would have been able to recover and return to hatch further plots…



Capturing the leader was an unbelievable stroke of luck. The authorities in Sharn will interrogate him for more information, and then put him on trial for the destruction and death already wrought.

The authorities (House Orien and the city watch, chiefly) know they cannot cover up the attack, but want to downplay it a bit. The rail is too important to the continent, and commerce must be kept moving. Additionally, there is a fair amount of tension with the warforged in Eberron, and they do not want to fan the flames. So…

For thwarting the plot, the party receives substantial compensation from House Orien, and notarized documents entitling them to free rides on House Orien transports. Other train passengers are compensated for the assistance rendered to the party (though nowhere near as lavishly), or (more likely) for their distress at having lived through such a trauma, or (much more likely) as compensation for the families of the deceased. Recipients are asked not to relate details of the attack.

Additionally, the city watch gives you a personal tour of the city, and arranges with House Ghallanda to put up the party in Ghallanda hall for a month while the party acquaints themselves with the city…

Eberron Adventure: Twelfth Session

Having helped Bearchief, the party gathered their loot, and began trekking back towards civilization. One night, the drow ranger, Zyn disappeared, leaving behind some of his better gear:

·         Derpa-Dirk, the magical blade pulled from the hide of the owlbear.

·         Bracers of Archery looted recently from the old dragon hoard   

·         3 Arrows of Oxidation (the arrows Zyn nature-MacGyvered out of the rust monster dooly-boppers, which being rust monster dooly boppers, will significantly injure anything metallic they hit).

With no sign of a body, blood, or even a struggle, the party came to the conclusion that Zyn was simply done with them. The human monk Turnin climbed a tree to look, and took it upon himself to give a short, poignant speech to the recently departed, apparently either over or simply forgetting the first few days with the creepy, quiet, face-slashing drow.

The remaining party pressed on, passing through a few small farming communities, and eventually made it to a larger town without incident nor adventure. In town, the broaches of the human wizard Kyllar, the human monk Turnin and the gnome barbarian Gnofulk (the halfling rogue Shadowale didn’t get one, being unconscious and all) were noticed by a keen-eyed warforged, who outfitted them with supplies at a discount. The warforged heard they were headed to Sharn, and pointed them down the street, in the direction of the spectacular lightning rail station.

The party strolled into the crowded station and purchased some tickets. Now recently conscious and needing a good revitalizing drink Shadowale wandered over to the bar, joined by Gnufolk, and both proceeded to drink heartily, while the rest of the party (Kyllar and Turnin) pestered any passenger who looked even remotely interesting.


The first victim was a large red dragonborn, who, as it just so happened, was going to be sitting in the same car. Pleasantries were exchanged, and the party learned that the dragonborn was Rhogar, a mercenary fighter with morals. Probably sensing that it would be a long trip if he didn’t indulge this monk and wizard, the fighter joined them in pestering other notable passengers. (Zyn’s player decided to drop Zyn and take up Rhogar. Ta-da.)

Seeing a young man dressed respectably and cradling a book, Turnin bounded over and struck up a conversation. The timid man introduced himself as Henley, a neophyte cleric in the Order of the Silver Flame, the most dominant religion on the continent, which asks its followers to live noble lives and strive to exterminate evil. Henley was an orphan from the Last War, a massive conflict in Eberron. Lonely, Henley longed for a community after such loss and devastation, and joined the order. Rhogar threatens/suggests that Henley consider joining the order very carefully, or at least keep his nose clean before wandering off with Kyllar, noting that blind fanatics rarely produce good things. Turnin stays, remembering the cool cleric book he grabbed from Brenda wayyy back when, and asked Henley what he made of it. Being new to all of this, and only on Page 4 of his own cleric book, Henley suggested that Turnin might have more luck asking someone in Sharn – either a bishop in Silver Flame, or some kind of other religious scholar. Henley is eventually released from Turnin’s social grasp, and scurries to the other side of the crowded room to study in peace.

With Turnin and Henley conversed about clerical business, Kyllar and Rhogar had struck up a conversation with an odd, nervous, and somewhat shady-looking individual. The individual has a helmet covering his entire face, with a single slit for the eyes) identifies himself at Rhyllik, and Kyllar and Rhogar learn that he is a Drow, returning from the mysterious continent of Xen’Drik,after a long adventuring and archeological expedition with a few trifling treasures and notes for his guild in Sharn.

As the conversation winds down, someone trips over a small goblin, and a large, plate-clad orc moves in protectively. Apologies are exchanged, but before a new conversation can be struck up, the crackle of static electricity signals that the train has arrived.

As everyone shuffles to board the train, some members of the party eye up the two other conspicuous persons at the station whom they had not been able to pester. The first is an incredibly tall and muscular humanoid, wearing a mask and clad head-to-toe in gleaming plate boards near the front of the train.

The second is a female dwarf in a longcoat and reading an upsidedown newspaper. Gnofulk had noted that she was looking pretty often in Shadowale’s direction, but she boarded the middle section of the train before anyone could talk to her…


The party boards the train in the rear, taking takes their “seats” in a rather crowded car, filled with long benches and many workmen. Gnofulk grumbles that 5 gold per ticket should have gotten them actual seats, and that it seems like a steep price for these workers to be paying. Perhaps a greedy ticket seller noticed they stood out and pulled a fast one on them? Or are things related to the bustling metropolis of Sharn really this expensive?

The murmur of polite conversation fills the car, and a few small games are struck up between passengers to pass the time. A hour or so into the trip, there is a shudder which reverberates down through the cars, and the screech of twisting metal can be heard. Games end and the passengers murmur in worry.

The party stands up, and declares that they’ll go see what’s what, and prepares to set out to find some authority figure on the train. A helpful lad suggests that lightning rails have two engines – one active in front; one inert in the rear, and that they are nearest to the rear one. The party heads towards the rear of the train, but finds a storage car, filled with misc boxes, as well as a few coffin-shaped stacks, and an upbeat warforged that most of the party recognizes – Gofer!

Gofer is accompanying/guarding some cargo for his community – honored dead being brought to Sharn. He is glad the excursion with Bearchief went well, and while he heard the shudder, he doesn’t know what it was. The party leaves him to his vigil, and continues toward the rear of the train.

The door opens surprisingly easy, and an older man sits up from one of the bunks. He identifies himself as an engineer, who is actually stowing away to Sharn. Once brought up to speed by the party (he’s a very sound sleeper), he attempts to contact the active engine car at the front of the train, but the signal isn’t going through. Kyllar summons a familiar, who can’t quite keep up with the train. Before it winks out of existence however, Kyllar is able to see through its eyes, noticing some smoke coming from a hole in one of the middle cars. The engineer points out that since the train hasn’t slowed down, the damage could be superficial. The only way to tell would be to investigate the smoke and reach the front of the train. Declaring the old man useless, the party tells the engineer to stay put – they’ll investigate the source of the smoke, and contact the active engine car up front.


The party advances, dispensing updates to Gofer and the workers back in their car as they make their way toward the front of the train. They exit their old car, and as they open a door to the next car up, two warforged unload mammoth crossbow bolts into Rhyllik, dropping him mid spell. A few other bodies are slumped in seats, the party noticing wounds from blades and bolts.


Most of the party launches themselves at the hostile warforged, clambering over seats, sprinting down the aisle, or just sneaking about in attempts to close the distance with these devastating ranged weapons. Hiding in a booth, Kyllar drags Rhyllik into relative cover, but the drow is beyond Kyllar's abysmal knowledge of healing. A brawl at the end of the car ensues, with Rhogar taking the brunt of one of these large bolts before the warforged are finally dispatched. Knowing how resilient warforged are, the party takes a moment to confirm that their foes are well and truly downed. Rhyllik proves to be beyond saving – dead from one of the devastating bolt shots before the party truly entered the battle.

The party scours Rhyllik’s equipment. They find a ceremonial Xen’Drik longsword; a few books of archeological and anthropological notes on Xen’Drik; a pair of letters; 20 Gold and 40 silver; and Rhyllik’s enchanted helm.

The party backtracks again. Gofer cannot identify the warforged without a good description, so the party brings him up to hopefully identify their opponents. Unfortunately, Gofer cannot help. The fact that both foes are warforged suggests some kind of affiliation between them, but they are not from Gofer’s community, and he cannot speculate what they might be after, and dismisses the party’s suggestion that these foes would be after his community’s dead.

The party asks if Gofer wants the remains of these warforged (and obliquely, if there is a “parts” market for dead warforged), Gofer replies in the negative on both counts, and retreats to sooth the passengers as the party presses on.

Kyllar divines that the longsword is a magical, and offers it up to Rhogar, saying that the dragonborn can keep it if he does a good job. Rhogar takes the blade, regarding Kyllar with a little of what might be dragonborn sarcastic incredulousness. Kyllar also identifies the helm as a Helm of Darkness- exerting a minor Darkness spell within the helm; enough to presumably let a drow wander about in the daylight with no ill effects.

The party ventures to the next car. Its doors open, and the party discovers that they are in a sleeping car; a long hallway opening into a number of smaller private rooms. They knock open doors, and find a frightened couple who state that they had felt the initial shudder, and heard “clomps” down the hallway, but had kept quiet, and their door shut. Another door is open, a passenger dead with a large blade gouge in his chest. In another compartment, the party finds Henley, cowering and clutching his book. His story is much the same as the quiet couple in the other compartment. He is too scared to join the party, but thinks he has just learned something called “Cure Wounds,” and is able to magically heal a few of the party’s wounds. He asks if there is anything (besides fighting, he’s weak) that he can do to help, and the party tells him to sit tight with the door closed. As the party reaches the end of the car, they notice a hole in the roof; something broke into the car. They party regards the hole, assuming that the warforged they had slain made it, but are curious as to why they would have needed to come through the roof. Gnofulk is hoisted up to peer through the hole, and in the distance, he sees other warforged running on the roof of the rail cars towards the engine up front.

It doesn’t seem practical or safe to travel on the roof, so Gnofulk is lowered, and the party opens the door to the next compartment as a pair of the massive crossbow bolts bury themselves into the walls nearby. Hiding behind the edge of a bar counter, safe from the shooters but exposed to the party is a very belligerent, plate-clad orc. Gnofulk tries to vault over/past the orc, but is grabbed midair and dragged to the floor beside the greenskin, who bellows at the gnome in broken common to see if the party is “here to fight too” and if they “is good guys or bad guys.” The orc thus distracted, Turnin dashes along the wall, and flings himself over the bar, past a sneaky warforged and towards the pair of shooty-warforged, caning one in the head with his staff. The small goblin pries the orc’s fingers off of Gnofulk, gesturing towards Turnin and soothing the big guy that the party is probably on their side. Or, the goblin concedes, that at least the green duo is in “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” kind of situation.

The sneaky warforged, unaware of his brethren being caught up fighting the acrobatic Turnin, charges around the corner of the bar, slashing at the orc with two katar-style swords. The orc roars, and responds with swipes of his axe, though neither are felled. Rhogar charges the slashing warforged; and Kyllar, perpetually restricted to minor sniping spells due to his compatriot’s quick actions, takes some pot shots at the ranged warforged. Shadowale sneaks behind the bar itself, hiding amongst the bottles and, popping up to shoot the slashing warforged in the side of the head.

Turnin continues to occupy the attention of the ranged warforged with stave strikes, who, unable to reload and fire their massive crossbows, stab at the monk with daggers. Freed of the orc’s clutches, and with a little help from the goblin, Gnofulk clambers onto the bar, running down it to join Turnin’s fight. The goblin spurs the orc onward to join the monk as well, but the orcs legs are short, and can only slowly plod towards the fight. Rhogar advances lockstep to support the orc, and Shadowale pops up over the bar, bounding across the wall and tables to reach Turnin’s fight too. The fight is soon over.

The goblin calms his orc counterpart and does the talking while the big guy calms down. The party learns that there they were looking for a drink in the bar car when these warforged busted in and started shooting up the place. The orc held them off; a few retreated. The duo heard clomps on the roof, fell back to the rear of the car, though the expected attack never came. The party noodles out that the warforged they dispatched further back were likely the ones sidestepping the orc, but they cannot figure out the goal of the warforged. The Orc would like to finally get his drink and relax, but Rhogar convinces the green pair to take up position in the sleeper car, and guard that hole in an attempt to protect the workers in the rear of the train.

Their rear secure, the party advances to the next car, throwing back a door and revealing the source of the smoke seen earlier by Kyllar. Something has blasted a gaping hole in the side of this passenger car. Wind whistles through the gaping hole, tussling the hair on the numerous dead passengers.



In one corner lays the dwarf who was eyeing up the party at the station. Kyllar recognizes her, and searches the body. A few coins are found, as is a slip of paper, nestled behind the newspaper she had been looking over. On this slip is a crude sketch and written description of Shadowale, though the name is listed as Falco. He is described as belligerent and likely emotionally distressed and last seen wandering around Fal-Narath. There is a simple instruction, asking the reader to watch Falco, and see that he makes it to Sharn alive. At the bottom of the slip are two brief descriptions of Turnin and Kyllar. As the party shares a moment of collective bewilderment, the train lurches, and starts to noticeably speed up….

…and despite all of this, no one has remarked on the odd mark that has manifested itself on the back of Turnin’s head after the ordeal recovering Bearchief’s relic. Is it an acid burn from helping Bearchief? Dirt or grime from poor D&D hygiene? A bruise? Someone else’s blood?

Eberron Reference Sheet

At the end of Session 10, I decided to abandon the interlude sessions. No one seemed really interested in trying out alternate or secondary characters, and excluding Shadowale, we had a pretty solid attendance record, so dinky one-off adventures didn't seem like they would add much to the narrative. 

So, I aimed to use the Bearchief's Relic session was to bring those more meandering adventures to a close and get the party pointed at the next campaign destination: Sharn, Eberron's iconic City of Towers; a metropolis bubbling with intrigue...

For the good of the party (and anyone looking to learn more about the setting), below are some links for general knowledge about Eberron.

The big Eberron wiki can be found here.

The wiki link to Sharn can be found here 

Wizards had a 5e supplemental article outlining Dragonmarks and some miscellaneous Eberron setting stuffs. That article can be found here 

And, for those interested in general game design, the creator of the setting has a blog, full of interesting gaming bits. You can see Keith Baker's blog, here.

Enjoy!

DM Notes on Bearchief's Relic

When the campaign started back in Sept 2014, Bearchief was one of two players that gave me a top-notch backstory. After reading it, I knew we’d be doing something to try and recover that relic, and my brain immediately started percolating ideas... Unfortunately, Bearchief moved away after the Sealers of the Stone Maw concluded (late December 2014). Setting up a session to recover the relic was still on the list of things to do… but was going to take some extra effort, so I put it on the back burner.

The Eberron campaign progressed after his departure (as you have read), and we even started another campaign with a friend trying to DM the Lost Mines of Phandelver (the 5e intro campaign). We alternated sessions, and so it was June by the time I wanted to get bring Bearchief back.

It was going to be a dungeon-crawl, but an in person session wasn’t feasible for Bearchief, so I decided to give the physical attendees minis and a map, and Bearchief, who was participating via Google Hangout (I think) astral project himself into the fray. He wouldn’t have to reference the grid dungeon much, but could:
·         Cast spells as normal
·         Give a temporary 20 HP to anything he projected himself into and inhabited.
·         Add or subtract a D8 to attack rolls, skill checks or saving throws once a round on stuff he inhabits.

I figured he’d be a massive “Mark Target” kind of effect, returning to the bodies of the party only when they needed some form of healing. Mostly he just stayed with the party. Bearchief would need to post how fun this attempt was to incorporate him; I think it did a decent job, though there is room for improvement.

The last wrinkle was physical attendees. Turnin was going to have to leave early, and Shadowale was (again) unable to make it. In retrospect, it would have been best to abandon Shadowale with the cult or have him kidnapped along the way (the Bag of Holding isn’t really supposed to hold people…), but since every absence was last-minute, we never retconned anything and just kept dragging him along… Despite these setbacks, I didn’t really want to reschedule. I had introduced the spiders as a test/teaser a while back and wanted to get on with the show. So on we went. 

I had originally drawn up a massive, warped cave dungeon, but ended up cutting about half the rooms/encounters/ideas in order to make this fit into a single (albeit longer) session, and less grindy than the Sealers dungeon. I ended up with 4 main chunks:

1)      Spiders/introduction
Generally speaking , we have at least a week between sessions. Sometimes more based on holidays or other campaigns. Subtleties are often lost on the party. I wanted to explicitly tie the unusually large and vicious spiders (and spider wranglers) the party had been seeing into the relic’s story so they would (maybe) recognize the hook and payoff.

The fight wasn’t as dynamic as the last spider throw down, but there was still a lot of cooperation and movement. This also served as a quick field test of Bearchief’s projected powers, which I ended up being pleased with, so changed nothing. A few checks later, the party traversed the winding path and found themselves in the dungeon proper.

2)      The floor is lava (acid)
Basically, the room would be a big cave room, with acid from outside dripping down the wall. If wheels were turned, however, mechanisms would stop up and acid would pool instead of draining (mostly) harmlessly. Each turned wheel/stopped mechanism would raise the level of the pool and increase the acid damage for stepping in it. At two stops (where the party started), the pools would have coalesced, and the only safe paths would be few, though the room would still be navigable. At three stops, these paths would succumb to the pools, and the party would start taking damage as the entire floor became covered.

I made this room needlessly big, and the combats were rough (the shifting druids hit HARD and the party was NOT sticking together) but it was a cool idea, I think. If we had a full crew, this would have gone a bit better, as the larger encounter space would have been a little more justified.

3)      Dragon Hoard/acid elementals
I wanted to mess with the party a bit. Each stoppage in the room above would remove one potential elemental in the room below. They opted to remove all the stoppages, so they got three corrupted elementals!

I like the concept of having one room impact the others, even if this was kept secret from the party… I’ll need to explore this further I think. I really liked the fight here; the party was failing checks and getting dragged all over the place. It was frustrating for them, but they played it well, and pulled out some tricks of their own.

4)      Boss fight with a view
They were going to level to 5 after this session, and this was also going to culminate in the semi-conclusion of a player’s personal quest, so I wanted to make it memorable.

Bearchief’s backstory had him thinking that some aspect of the Cult of the Dragon Below was responsible for the murder and relic-swiping, so I settled on the idea of a group of deceived/corrupted druids being the grunts/culprits. Led by some deceitful mindflayers, these druids though they were doing good (murdering some “evil” druids, “reclaiming” a relic), but really the opposite was true, and they were corrupting the world around them.

Mayhem seemed like a poor goal for the mindflayers, so this being D&D, having encountered no Dragons previously BUT having an Arrow of Dragon Slaying… I figured it was time to have some kind of dragon in the mix. Unearthing/reanimating an undead dragon for a sweet pet/mount seemed like a sufficiently cool goal for the baddies, and off we went.

I was hoping to foreshadow the ritual a bit, but the party failed all of their (increasingly easy) perception checks, and was caught off guard by the ritual.

The boss fight was brutal, and long. My bad. I had built up the dragon/mindflayer(s) up from the ground up again, since they were a bit too powerful for the party to face right out of the monster manual. None of them had too many attacks, but the party was beat up, rolling attacks poorly, and Shadowale, who does crazy-high damage was absent. Oops.

I was pleased with how the session progressed, how we were able to incorporate an old player, and how the session itself ended. It was a pretty good session. 

Eberron Adventure: Eleventh Session

The party, consisting of Zyn, the drow ranger, Kyllar the human wizard, Nameless the gnome barbarian, and Turnin the human monk (Shadowale, the halfling rogue was still unconscious, dragged behind the party on the magical disc, or placed gingerly into the Bag of Holding with a burst of air when the party knew things would get bad) left the blacksmith, and advanced through the wilderness, marching for most of the day towards the still-quite-distant city of Sharn before a terrible hoot/roar alerted them to danger. Up ahead, a warforged burst out from some foliage; an enraged owlbear shredding through the brush in hot pursuit. Noticing the party, the warforged turned, sprinting towards our heroes, shouting for aid without really bothering to see whether it was actually being offered.

Even from a distance, the drow ranger Zyn noticed a gleam, coming from the owlbear’s side, and recognized the beast as the subject of a bonafide quest from Brenda’s notes. The party arranged themselves to engage the owlbear as the warforged ran through…

The human monk Turnin landed the final blow against the beast, which collapsed on the ground. The blade was embedded in the beast’s side, hilt still gleaming and aimed at the sky. Turnin quickly drew the sword from the carcass, and began making swooshing sounds and slicing through the aid. The silliness was quickly put to an end, and the blade was turned over to Zyn and Kyllar (the latter would magically inspect it later, and would determine that the blade cuts unusually deep for its size, and would love to strike a critical blow to an enemy…). As the blade was passed around, the party spoke with Gofer, the warforged whom they had just saved.

Gofer offered up some silver and healing potions for saving his life, and explained that we was a courier from House Orien (a guild of Eberron, specializing in the transportation of items and persons), searching for two things: Bulwark's shield, and adventurers who had traveled with a dwarf druid named Bearchief. The party's interest was piqued at both Gofer's tasks.

The party learns that both Gofer and Bulwark belonged to the same warforged organization, and that Gofer was sent to find him, since Bulwark had not returned when he said he would. The party offers their condolences, and Kyllar offers up Bulwark's shield without hesitation. Gofer takes the loss in stride, and offers the party broaches/pins in the shape of a bone, with gears on the ends. The broaches were tweaked, and they began to glow ever so slightly as they were handed out. Gofer explained that if the party displays these trinkets as they approached Sharn, his society would have their backs.

And upon learning that the party had indeed traveled with Bearchief, Gofer procured a small stone carving of a bear, sitting upright on its haunches, and with a dwarven beard, and handed it to Kyllar. Gofer relates that Bearchief is looking for the party, and has sent out a few wandering couriers such as himself in an attempt to contact our heroes. Bearchief can speak through these totems, and checks in at sunset. If the party just sits tight, Bearchief will be in touch soon...

...the party does decided to sit tight, and Gofer leaves them, thanking them again for saving him, and for their generosity. At sundown, Bearchief whispers from the totem. The party chats quickly, and Bearchief soon turns the conversation towards the task at hand, providing the party with some personal backstory along the way.

Bearchief’s druidic circle had a relic in their care, but the order was murdered and the relic was stolen when Bearchief was still an initiate in the circle. Bearchief, the sole survivor of the massacre, became an adventurer, traveling the world, but always keeping an eye out for rumors about the relic. After he had left the part, Bearchief had tracked the relic to an area nearby. Originally, he planned on using the totems to locate and then join the party, but not the relic shard is trembling. Something is about to go down, and there is no time to travel.

Instead, Bearchief will project his spirit through the totem, using it as both a lens and an anchor to guide the party using spells and partial possession (through the totem, Bearchief can inhabit a body friendly to him, and can work in concert with it, boosting skills and coordination; or inhabit an unfriendly body, working against the owner, making them less skilled and coordinated).

After a tough day's march, the party arrives in the foothills of a mountain. Several of the previously-encountered large spiders and the spider-wranglers are around, and a fight erupts. The spiders moved in to maul the party, and the spider-wranglers used magical cantrips to whip spidery threads, and pull members of the party out of position. After dispatching these  corrupted beings, as well as a gargantuan, mutated spider, the party learns that they are results of attempts to corrupt the relic.

In what appears to be a dead end in the foothills, the party begins clearing the web-covered crevices, uncovering some basic loot and eventually a narrow, winding path, carved into the mountain by a trickling stream of acid from the surrounding corruption. The path winds down and down into the rock, becoming more or a tunnel, burrowing into the mountain. The party reaches the end without more than superficial damage from the acid and misplaced steps.

The path forks at the end, and Bearchief suggests the party go left. Zyn attempts to stealthy scout ahead, but fails, and finds himself isolated in a huge cavernous room, streams of the draining acid pooling in numerous gouges in the earthen floor, the pools turning the cavern floor into a stinging, acidic maze of sorts. Several druid-looking humanoids are preparing defenses, and the stealthy approach blown, Zyn takes aim at a druid cranking one of three large wheels, and maims him with a well-placed arrow.

Hearing the commotion, the rest of the party begins to file down the left path. These druid-like humanoids put up a resistance, using similar magical hook shots to snag the party and drag them into the acid pools. The party spreads out, attempting to down the druids one-on-one, but this stratagem fails. As they become wounded and cornered, each druid shapeshifts, turning into scorpion like monsters, or unrecognizable creatures with scythes for arms. Both forms lash out against the party, causing serious trauma, particularly to Turnin, who is kept in fighting form by the presence of Bearchief's spirit (and Bearchief's very dedicated heals, emanating from the totem). As the party attempts to combat the new forms of the druids, giant bats appear from a dark opening at the far end of the cavern, who shapeshift into other druids as they reach the party. One finishes up what his companion died trying to do; and turns the wheel one last time, allowing some unseen mechanism to stop the acid from draining further. The little paths the party had been using to avoid the acidic pools get smaller and smaller…

The battle is vicious, but in time, the party is able to down the shape-shifted druids, and they choose to "open" the three wheels, and let the acid drain from the room. In short order, the acid pools have seeped through the dirt and muck that is the floor of this cavern, and the party rests for a short while before pressing on.

The party cautiously approaches the dark maw from which the giant bats emerged previously, and find a 200 foot drop beyond. Fortunately, the drop was irregular, and there appeared to be several sizable ledges on the descent. The party opted to lower themselves down one-by-one, with Bearchief semi-possessing almost each member in turn to aid them in their descent.

Unfortunately, Zyn refused to share his body, and was dropped three times by Nameless, the “strongest” member of the party, and who was serving as anchor, lowering the rest of the party down from ledge to ledge. With the last 50 feet to go, the party decided to take a long rest before finishing their descent.

Once the party had all reached the bottom, they walked a short distance, and soon found themselves in another cavernous room. Nameless’s faultless sense of direction placed them below the first cavern. Having turned the wheels above, the party saw that the acid was free to seep down into this room, where it coalesced into three pools which housed three water elementals, now corrupted by the acid. Upon being spotted, a druid of some importance slapped the ground, and a stone golem rose up, coalescing from the rock, and three other druids moved to resist the party.

Bearchief summoned a potent Moonbeam, and wielded it with abandon, searing several of the foes. Kyllar and Zyn unleashed a barrage of ranged attacks as well, including a Shatter spell, but they themselves did not move. The Stone Giant charged the party, slamming the ground and dealing massive damage, though not engaging any particular member of the party, while the acid elementals and druids advanced menacingly. Battle erupted in full as the party came to their senses and tried to avoid the golem’s heavy swings.

The druids conjured silky spider whips, again pulling the party out of their planned positions, while the acidic elementals attempted to hug and engulf the closest party member. Bearchief’s Moonbeam zipped around, finishing off many of his foes with sweet, sweet, lunar-inspired vengeance. Nameless was pulled away from fighting the golem, and still obviously ragin’ turned and cleaved the lead druid in two. Its controller quite dead, the golem became inanimate, and the party breathed a sigh of relief as they finished off the scattered druids and little elementals that remained. Turnin, having been hugged inside the last remaining elemental, swing his fists and quarterstaff around furiously and then burst free from the thing, its membrane splitting and expelling the interior of itself violently. Kyllar inspected the body of the lead druid, and found another shard from Bearchief’s relic, it too trembling and pulsating.

The party chides Bearchief, wondering why he never summoned a stone avatar to protect them, but the bickering soon stops as the party realizes that this room bears the tell-tale signs of an old dragon horde!

Ever-eager for material gain, the party fans out, quickly sifting through the room’s contents. Unfortunately, most of the treasures had been permanently befouled by the acid, and were corroded and in a useless state. However, several shut chests were found, their contents protected from the acid. Before they could perform identification rituals or an accurate inventory of their haul, Bearchief’s shard resonated. So did the one Kyllar had just obtained. Bearchief deduces that they must be quite close to the relic, and that something is about to occur, so the party pressed on. They left the hoard room via a tunnel opposite the way they entered, whose walls were slick with acidic moss and corrupted vines, though the acid here was not strong enough to burn through their clothes or armor.

In these tight quarters, the party found their path blocked by a humanoid and what appeared to be two giant wolves. Still in marching order, the party peered around the diminutive Nameless to see what the heck the hold up was. Also curious, Bearchief reached out and quickly cursed, relating to the party that this being was a MINDFLAYER, an evil being of immense psychic and magical power.

The mindflayer stalled for time, her facial tentacles writhing, and offered the party a chance to turn back or die. The party considered for several moments, took evidently far too long to respond, and then the wolves were upon Nameless, snapping at him. Kyllar ran beside Nameless, and cast Thunderwave, and in the confines of the tunnel, one of the wolves was knocked into a wall and momentarily dazed, though it reentered the fight quickly. Zyn shot at the mindflayer and Turnin vaulted forward and began to battle the wolves. The mindflayer psychically suggested to the party that they should hug the fluffy wolves, and Nameless looked on with a mix of horror and confusion as everyone else in the party went along with this suggestion. The wolves gnawed into the party mercilessly.

Recovering their senses through pain, the party struck back. Turnin lunged forth, and struck at the mindflayer with a flurry of blows. The mindflayer doubled over, and spat bloody ichor to the ground. As it righter itself, it cast its own magical blast, tossing him back towards the party. The mindflayer began to retreat.

The party caught the airborne Turnin, and prepared to dispatch the last snarling wolf and then pursue, but soon hesitated, awestruck by the scene before them.

As they fought, no one in the party had noticed that the tunnel had begun to widen. Ahead of them, the ground was quite uneven, like rubble from a collapsed building – or a cave old in. The path had become huge, and open to the evening sky. This platform overlooked the Mournland, and the cool evening breeze drifted into the cave. In addition to failing to the view, the party also failed to notice that a second mindflayer had been performing a ritual, Bearchief's relic held high above him as he finished his spell....



.....and from the settled rubble burst a dragon most foul; decayed flesh drooped off its bones and air rustled through the holes in its leathery wings as it reared up, rocks tumbling off its back. Before the performer of the ritual could exert true control over the creature, the raised dragon lashed out, devouring the fleeing, bloodied mindflayer, whose sudden death then also killed the last wolf; such was the charmed bond the mindflayer had apparently cultivated. The summoning mindflayer tensed as he brought the dragon to heel, and then grimly jumped on its back, grimly regarding its slain comrade as it squared itself against the party - the true fight had begun.

The party stood in disbelief for a moment, and then Zyn greedily nocked the Shaft of Dragon Slaying taken from Brenda’s supplies, and loosed it, striking home and dealing the dragon a great, gaping wound. The moment of disbelief passed, and the party went on the offensive.

Bearchief struck out again with Moonbeam, blasting down upon both mount and rider. Zyn stayed back and loosed bolt after bolt from his crossbows. Turnin jumped forth, dodging the dragon's snapping jaws, bounding up the creature’s neck, and then landing several telling strikes against the mindflayer. In turn, the mindflayer had the dragon smash Turnin as he landed, and unleashed a potent Fireball against much of the rest of the party, who were badly burned, but still alive.

The fight was long and arduous. A potent Moonbeam continued to blaze upon the mindflayer and his recently raised mount. The dragon swiped its claws at those who approached, the mindflayer also knocking the party back with magic. The party continued to give it their all, though the dragon reared up often, its undead body taking shots intended for the mindflayer. Running out of spells, Kyllar got close, cast Thunderwave, and the mindflayer failed to hold on, and was knocked off his mount. While Turnin and Zyn had been knocked out, Nameless was able to take a few swings at the prone mindflayer.

A Moonbeam reaching down from the heavens onto the platform zeroed in on the mindflayer, and the cumulative, relentless damage from it eventually caught up with the mindflayer as it struggled to get to its feet. As it life was blasted out of it, the mindflayer fumbled the relic Bearchief sought, it's chipped and weathered form falling from the crook of the mindflayer’s arm, and bouncing to the ground.

Free, the dragon lunged at the relic and swallowed it. Ignoring the party, it reared up, facing the Mournland and roared defiantly. The roar was quickly chocked off by the sounds of grating gravel, and then soon silence as the dragon was turned to stone, a monstrous statue shouting silently while lording over dead landscape.

Then a faint light began to glow from the statue, and from the relic shards held by Kyllar and Bearchief. The light grew stronger, until it washed over the area. Wounds began to close and heal, and the corrupted moss and vines that had been dangling around the tunnel began to shift into healthier colors. Life slowly began to return to the platform, and the tide of healing began to inexorably creep deeper into the caverns from whence the party came.

Motes drifted from the dragon statue and from the now-inert shards held by Kyllar and Bearchief. 
Bearchief remembered that his order's sacred relic, was nicknamed Stubborn. He theorizes that it didn't like being misused by the mindflayers, and now seeks to repair some of the damage it was unwilling a party to. Overtime, the shards will crumble, as will the dragon statue. When that happens, the corruption will have been cleansed, and the relic can truly be reclaimed. For now, it sits safely, diligently restoring what had been befouled.

Eberron adventure: Session Ten

Last session, the party, consisting of Kyllar, the human wizard, Turnin the human monk, and Nameless, the gnome barbarian befriended the cultists, left, and defeated a group of marauding spiders and spider-wranglers on the road, all while dragging the unconscious halfling rogue Shadowale and drow Ranger Zyn on a magical floating liter. The party stumbled upon a “safe-hovel” used by cultist missionaries as they traveled, and as it began to drizzle, prepare a meal from some of the foodstuffs they found in the hovel…

A small fire crackled beneath the meal-in-progress, and the aromas revived Zyn. Shadowale was still tuckered out from his bout with the Shadow Demon.

As they ate, the party brought Zyn up to speed, and regaled each other with reminders of what great exploits they had accomplished. Some of Shadowale’s secret road beers, kept in his pockets were pilfered by the party, and …images were drawn/traced on his sleeping face. The party wondered aloud why Shadowale wouldn’t wake up, especially since they heard him mumbling several times, when Kyllar meekly added that his magical liter only lasts an hour before it disappears and needs to be conjured again. After traveling for a few days... there may have been a few times where the liter winked out of existence and Shadowale landed on his head. The party couldn’t decide if that could be a contributing factor to unconsciousness or not, given that none of them were healers; had no medical proficiencies; and have historically been pretty terrible at non-lethal force.

Eventually the conversation waned and the party drifted to sleep. In the dead of night, the rain stopped, and was replaced by a slowly building unnatural thunder. Lightning soon began to flash as well. For a while, the party just slept, but without the rain to smooth the sounds out, the percussive rumbles soon began to wake the party. The fire had not quite died out, and they peered out of shoddy earthen “window holes” into the darkness.

They heard the whoops and skitters of their now-familiar spindly foes, and Turnin retreated to the center of the hovel, absent-mindedly massaging his throat, which was still red from yesterday’s webby garrotes. The fire was quickly smothered down to coals to provide some warmth without generating too much light, and magical illusions and then blankets soon covered the hovel’s windows. The party waited out the sounds, and while they were not discovered, they did not sleep soundly.

In the morning, the party tensely rose, tried to rouse Shadowale, failed to do so, snickered at the doodles, and set about their day. Not wanting to drag him around, Kyllar called forth a large gust of wind, and blew it into the Bag of Holding, filling it with breathable air for Shadowale, who was also placed into the bag for safe keeping. A quick meal boosted their spirits, and they surveyed the surrounding area, seeing evidence of clutters of spiders crashing through the area. However, the party was unable to determine either the point of origin nor the intended destination of their spider and spider-wrangling foes. Watching their backs, the party, armed with Brenda’s receipt, marched onward, towards the weapon smith to pick up her order of fancy weapons.

After an hour or two of marching, the party saw a plume of smoke up ahead, and soon found themselves on a meandering path toward it. Declining to scout the area, the party walked right in, rounding the last bend, and into a fight. A dwarf, barricaded behind some wooden furniture shouted a warning of “Oi! Look out!” and gestured wildly with a crude, entirely wooden spear to a mine entrance, from which a large, armored animal was emerging; its shoulder as high as a human is tall. It waived its feathery antennae, and after the briefest of pauses, ignored the dwarf, and hungrily galloped toward the party.

The party was quick to oblige the beast; Turnin bounded forth and landed a few solid blows with his wooden staff and fists; Kyllar make a crack about the weapon smith not being that good, if all she had was a wooden spear, shot a firebolt, but missed. Zyn fired his hand crossbows, both striking the beast, but both tips sizzled, and failed to penetrate the beasts hide like they normally would. The beast plowed on, and Nameless the gnome stepped forth, his axe finding a weak spot in the carapace, and cracking the beast wide open. However, as soon as the edge found purchase, it began to corrode. As the beast expired, Nameless regarded his instrument of battle, recoiled in fear, and tried to stab it into the ground in a frantic attempt to smother the corrosion and stop it. But as Nameless pushed the weapon into the earth, it only moldered and crumbled, and he was left with only the grip-wraps around the wooden haft, and rusty dust blowing away in the breeze…

As Nameless collapsed to his knees in disbelief, the dwarf finished her warning… telling the party to lookout, “because that’s a rust monster.” What a difference a single round of combat can make.

The dwarf weapon smith commiserates with Nameless’ loss, and introduces herself as Melora Forgestoker, affiliated with House Cannith, as well as her son and apprentice Kendron, who was also hiding behind the barricade. Quickly, the party learns that the rusties had 1) eaten Brenda’s order of fancy weapons, 2) eaten most of the stockpiled metals here 3) were roused by her digging brothers and 4) had been partially contained within the mine by her three brothers collapsing part of it from within. She promises to make them a good, proper weapon, if they can 1) find some metal, 2) eradicate the rust monsters, and (most importantly) 3) rescue her brothers.

After some discussion and logical thinking regarding the nature of rust monsters, the party doffed their armor, laid down their weapons, and left their metal in a pile. Melora and Kendron helped gather the components, while Zyn fashioned some rustic arrows for himself and a large stone-headed club for Nameless. It was a poor substitute for the battle axe, but these weapons, while not as lethal as their metal counterparts, would work (and most importantly, last) against their new subterranean foes.

Melora never ventured underground, and therefore couldn’t provide the party with a map of the mine. Fortunately, Nameless was a skilled barbarian wanderer, and would be able to construct a basic map based on their footsteps. After lighting some torches, the party descended into the mine.

After a few winding dead ends, the party found a few more rusties, greedily gnawing at some exposed ore. The party quickly ended them without too much trouble, and then found a cave in. They listened intently, and heard deep-voiced mumbling on the other side. They cleared enough rubble to communicate, and got a better lay of the land from the trapped dwarves. The dwarves had collapsed the mine a little further on, they thought, trapping most of the rusties. However, the mine unfortunately collapsed in a second area, this area, and trapped them.

With some effort, the party cleared the first obstruction. Only trapped for a few hours, the miner brothers were eager to help clear the way for the adventurers to exact revenge. With the obstruction cleared by hand, the miners retreated to the surface with what they were able to salvage from their haul, and the adventurers pressed on, walking deeper into the mine.

A little further on, the party discovered another rust monster, but this one was done snacking, and went down swinging. After a few more dead ends, the party found a hole in the wall, presumable from where the rust monsters emerged.

Nameless was able to determine that a small brood awaited them, and after a brief parley, the party decided to rush in. Inside was a massive, bulging rust monster, far too big to fit into the dwarves’ mining corridor. At the queen’s feet are several (immature) dog-sized rust monsters.

Nameless rushed the queen in a vengeful rage while Turnin, Zyn and Kyllar focused on picking apart the little ones from various ranges. The little ones swarmed Turnin, landing several blows, while the queen traded blows with Nameless.

The little ones were eventually dispatched, but as the party began to focus their efforts on the queen, they found that the more damage they did, the more additional little ones emerged from her breaking carapace. Now, with more small monsters than they started with, Nameless swung his stone-headed club, and connected with a wet squelch. The queen teetered, and while Turnin and Nameless avoided being crushed by her fall, several of the little monsters were not so lucky. The remaining few were dispatched with ease.

The party traveled back to the surface, where they were greeted with cheers from the dwarves. They set about returning the place to normalcy. As compensation for their deeds, Melora forged a battle axe engraved with a regal squirrel, weighted just “so” to let Nameless wield it more easily, and strike with more potency.

Unfortunately, the axe used up all the available metal. As recompense for being unable to fully fulfill the order, she gives the party a locked, ornate metal container, roughly the size of the two fists and adorned with symbols of House Cannith. Inside this container, is a document signed by Melora, pledging that House Cannith will grant one minor favor to the party.

The party rests and recuperates, and decides to begin travel towards Sharn, which they hear is lovely this time of year. In addition to being filled with adventure and such.

DM Thoughts on Session 9

Redemption! We ended up being short some players (Zyn and Shadowale couldn’t make it; it’d be a while before Shadowale returned as it turned out… work got very busy for him), but I decided to press on, and see how it went with a few absences. This session basically played in reverse of the previous one. The party started with the cultists, and ended up with the spiders.

But both parts were way more satisfying this time around.

The previously poorly presented cult stuff was spun into something unique and interesting. Much RP was done this second attempt, with even hand motions between Turnin and the Steves on the bucket line to help set the mood.

Then the previously (very) lame spider fight was transformed into something really memorable (at least to me). It was our most dynamic fight to date, and that’s something I really want to encourage going forward. I'll have another, lengthier post touching on my thoughts regarding what I feel makes a good fight/encounter in the near(ish) future.

Suffice it to say, I was really, really happy with how were were able to turn it around for this session.

Eberron Adventure: Ninth Session

The battle axe of Nameless, the gnome barbarian, finds purchase in the flesh of the Shadow(y) Demon, and rends the entity in twain. With a shriek, shadows begin to bleed out from the now-dissipating form of the demon, the wispy shadow tendrils mingling with the smoke of the growing inferno in the ruined tower. Soon, only the smoke remains.

On the other side of the door, the commotion of a growing mass of people is heard. The drow ranger Zyn is revived, and reaches out to his kindred spirit in assassination, healing the halfling rogue Shadowale. Unfortunately the experience has proven too much for them both, and both collapse from total exhaustion.

The owl familiar belonging to the wizard Kyllar’s flies through the smoke, and spies the growing number of cultists outside. Upon closer inspection, Kyllar notices that they seem more concerned with putting out the fire than stabbing things in a blind fury.

After a quick conference, Turnin the human monk moves to kick open the door, realizes it “doesn’t swing that way” and simply opens it instead. He and Kyllar exit, shouting at the cultists to “uh.. quick! Help us put out the fire!” They are less than convincing, but the cultists were already preparing to fight the blaze anyways.

The crowd makes a space near the entrance to the tower as shadow-clad cultists direct the lesser cultists into bucket chains. The party hauls their unconscious members and the three murdered cultists into the space through a combination of brute force and a magical conjured disc.

The shadow-draped figures regard the party, but leave them alone at the subtle command on one of their number.

Turnin takes this opportunity to aid a bucket line, winking and throwing a double-thumbs up to the rest of the party at every opportunity as he chats up a pair of cultists, both somehow named Steve.

Nameless attempts to sneak away, but there is too much brightness from the flames, and dragging his axe behind him was a less than stealthy move. He and Kyllar are singled out by one of the shadow-draped figures.

Kyllar speaks needlessly cryptically, fielding questions like “who are you? Did you do this? And are those three dead?” with answers like “We’re saviors. Yes, we did what we had to do. And yes, we killed them… you don’t need to live in fear anymore.” Despite doing uncharismatic things that hurt the believability of the answers like burping and winking, Kyllar apparently hits closer to the truth than he ever could have guessed. The shadowy man considers what was said, and suggests that they all focus on fighting the fire – there will be time to talk later.

Nameless joins in another bucket line, while Kyllar conjures water to help speed things along. After a hour or so, the blaze is largely extinguished. The shadowy man thanks the party, and offers them a small hut for the rest of the night, warning that while they won’t be harmed, they must obviously be watched tonight. Kyllar retorts that the cultists will be watched as well, and his familiar calls into the night to accentuate the point.

The party huddles up, comparing notes on the evening’s events in hushed voices while Kyllar magically mends the various weapons in the Bag of Holding. Kyllar and Nameless noticed that the cultists do not cast shadows, a fact lost on Turnin for most of the night. Though Turnin, through his chats with the Steves in the bucket line, learns that most of the “cultists” banded together out of fear –the world is scary with bandits, monsters and magical cataclysms (the Mourning in Eberron). Many gladly agreed to have their shadow taken from them since that was the price of safety and community. These chats, coupled with the shadowy man’s apparent apathy of the murder of the three cultists in the tower intrigues the party. They take turns resting, and are visited a little after dawn by a knock from the shadowy man.

After inquiring on the health of the still-sleeping Zyn and Shadowale, the conscious beings in the tent discuss the situation.

The party introduces themselves to Naris, who identifies himself as a “Shade” in the community - someone with the skill to amplify the shadows around them to aid in obfuscation and stealth. The community was originally formed out of fear – the world was a scary place, and isolated farmsteads did not let sleep come easily at night. A few farmsteads banded together, abandoning their fields and planting small crops near the ruined tower instead. Their numbers grew slowly over time, and were on their way to being just a town, when their fear got the better of them. The community’s Patriarchs were visited by a demon about a year ago, who promised safety at the cost of everyone’s shadow. The Patriarch’s agreed in secret, not knowing that doing so would bind them to the demon as well as make it resistant to harm from the community. The demon drank in everyone’s shadow, and remained hidden from most of the population. In the last months, more and more people fled into the countryside, many stumbling upon the safety offered by the community in the ruined tower, like the Steves.

Naris and the other Shade’s served as missionaries, whispering rumors and planting clues to lead similarly scared folk into the arms of the community-turned-cult. The cost of their shadow seemed like a small price to pay for their security… but Naris and a few others, who had been out in the world, felt that isolationism wasn’t the answer. They had searched in vain for a way for themselves to defeat the demon, and it was only the chance visitation of the party that freed them.

However, Naris is worried –their shadows have not returned. The party, feeling good about how everything was panning out, offers to help search. Kyllar’s familiar keeps watch over Zyn and Shadowale while they are tended to by the community and the party travels with Naris to the charred remains of the still-ruined tower.

The party and a few cultists shuffle aimlessly around the tower as Kyllar readies a magic-detection spell. He knows something is there, but cannot pinpoint it among all the soot. After some unsuccessful looks, the party and the cultists start physically digging through the soot, and Turnin’s hand brushes against something.

He lifts out a dark gem that seems to contain smoky swirls within it. Holding it up triumphantly he shows it off to Naris and the cultists, who look on with anticipation. Another spell from Kyllar confirms that this is indeed the repository for the stolen shadows, and that the gem is breakable.

Naris nods to Turning, who jumps into the air, and flings the germ towards the ground theatrically. With a hollow, comical “tink” it bounces away unharmed, landing at Nameless’ feet.

Nameless regards the gem with a critical eye, and crushes it with the blunted, reverse side of his axe. The gem is shattered, and shadows slither outward towards their corporeal counterparts.

There was much rejoicing. Kyllar reaches into the Bag of Holding, and gifts the small cache of stabby things to the community. Naris profusely thanks the party on behalf of the community. Many will stay here, and try to build the area into something worthwhile. Naris states that he and some of the other Shades will leave – their skills are unique, and they will do more engaging in the world than back home. As thanks, he offers the party a unique seal: when broken, it will amply the shadows of whomever is holding it, allowing for easier and more effective hiding. There was more rejoicing.

The party checks Brenda’s notepad of local rumors, and decides to set out towards the weapon smith for some new shiny, stabby things. Naris points them in a direction of a small, secret hovel used by the traveling Shades to rest that will allow the party to rest on their trip. The party sets out.

They travel through the woods; Nameless scampering over fallen trees; Kyllar walking behind; Kyllar’s magical disc carrying Zyn and Shadowale following him; and Turning, alternating between triumphantly standing on stumps or on the disc, flexing and pointing out cool looking things in nature. Slowly, a sense of quiet foreboding sets in. The trees seem to lean in menacingly, in this neck of the woods, and as the claustrophobia becomes more and more apparent, the party falls into an ambush!

A thing rope of webbing suddenly tightens around Turnin’s neck, hoisting him into the air with an undignified yelp. Two fleshy, long-limbed brutes, reminiscent of bugs, tug on each side of the webbed rope, holding Turning in the air and strangling him a little as they let out zoidbergesque “whoopwhoopwhoopwhoopwhoops”, traversing the trees and fleeing from the party with their pet giant spider, who jumps from tree to tree with them. In the distance, their whooping call is answered by a cracking of branches and crashing of underbrush.

Nameless and Kyllar turn to see just what the commotion is, and sputter to a halt. As the ambushers retreat, Nameless hefts a javelin, hurling it up at one of the fleeing creatures, grazing it ever so slightly. Thoroughly surprised, the creature shrieks like a little elven lass, panics, and drops its end of the web rope. Like a choking pendulum, Turnin swings down and towards the tree trunk, only just managing to orient himself so that his legs could cushion his impact into the trees, and swinging into position to handle the next trees.

The trio of ambushers (spider, zoidberg, zoidberg) continues to retreat towards the crashing noises, which turn out to be two additional and also giant spiders. Nameless and Kyllar pursue the abductors towards their meeting place; a thickly forested and web-covered area of the forest. A second javelin from Nameless misses the mark and lodges itself in a tree trunk up ahead, and Kyllar blasts magic at the beast still dragging Turnin, badly burning it, though it tenaciously refuses to release its prey. Kyllar’s disc with Zyn and Shadowale follows stubbornly, bouncing slowly between tree trunks like an abandoned inner tube down a river. Turnin tries several times to catch the creature he is tethered to, first jumping towards him, then trying to use the web as a slingshot. Both attempts result in Turnin gaining some ground, and thus more slack to work with, but unfortunately not nearly enough to untie himself. Instead, his arm gets stuck, pinned near his face as if he was putting both his head and an arm through the head hole of a sweater.

Nameless continues his charge, and uses his stuck javelin as a springboard, catapulting himself up into the branches and taking a swipe at one of the creatures as he vaults past, unfortunately missing, but landing safely on a branch nearby.

Kyllar, still firmly on the ground, readies a spell of shattering, catching the two brutish abductors on the blast. The pansy is grievously wounded, and the tenacious one is “shattered” into fleshy bits, which shower Turnin just before the once-taut web rope cartoonishly goes limp and gracefully falls besides Turnin.

The reinforcement spiders clamber through the branches toward Kyllar, who has caused quite the commotion, as Nameless and Turnin mop up what is left of the original abducting trio.

Nameless jumps from a branch, his axe connecting with the husk of the other creature, still reverberating from Kyllar’s spell. Turnin manages to flip over, exerting some Ki and landing a flurry of blows against the original, abducting spider pet, killing it too.

The reinforcement spiders approach Kyllar, (above the wizard, but now passing below Nameless and Turnin) but are apparently tired from their sprint, and fall short of being able to attack the wizard, so they flick their many legs at him, menacingly as they prepare to strike.

Critically eyeing the trajectory of the spiders, Nameless channels the spirit of the noble forest flying squirrels, and leaps from the branch, his axe swinging in a graceful arc in front of him, and with the advantage of height and gravity, Nameless cleaves one of the oncoming spiders in two.

Turnin, sees that, likes that, and wiggles his butt a little as he crouches down, channeling the murderous spirit of the solitary, almost monastic housecat -

-but before he can jump, Kyllar readies a firebolt, lightly toasting the last spider-

-and Turnin pounces! Mastering physics and falling just above the spider, Turnin punches it repeatedly all the way to the ground.

The party looks around, and not uttering a word, dusts themselves off, and sets out again toward their goals – a rest in a hovel, followed by new stabby gear.

After a few hours more of trekking through the forest, they literally stumble upon the hovel, which was partially hidden from sight by enhanced shadows. Kyllar pushes the disc into the hovel, and it winks out of existence, depositing Zyn and Shadowale on the dirt floor. A drizzle starts outside, but dry and safe in the shadow-clad hovel, the party prepares a meal before retiring for the night.