DM Thoughts on the Silver Flame Investigation

This session had two goals. The first was to do a full blown Gumshoe-style session. I think it went really well. Gumshoe had core (read: important) clues given without dice rolls – if you have a relevant investigative ability, you simply got the clue and it was up to the party to figure out how it fits in the larger puzzle; no rolling required. I had done a few low-key tests of the Gumshoe approach already (just one-off skill checks over the last few sessions), and decided to switch it up a little more for full-blown integration with D&D, because who doesn’t love rolling dice while playing D&D?

So, my clues had some flexible DC thresholds built in, to give bonus info based on the player’s roll.

An example, from the session:

The players spot the corpse of a slain guard. Those without the required proficiency can just glean basic factual information, like “yes, that guard is dead.” Those with the required proficiency, in this case, the Survival proficiency, can roll for a check; the idea being that being proficient, they can discern how the guard failed to survive.

·         On a low roll, they will see that the guard was surprised (sword still in the scabbard), and that there aren’t any recognizable weapon marks on the body.
·         On a medium roll, they will see that the guard was surprised, and that the blows were caused by an unarmed assailant.
·         On a high roll, they will see that the guard was surprised, and that he was killed by a few well-placed strikes.

As you can see, there is some room for interpretation and for erroneous judgments. On a low roll they could still assume a weapon dealt the killing blows. On a medium roll, they could assume that the victim was surprised and beaten to death. On a high roll, however, they are pretty sure that the guard was caught by surprise and killed by a practiced unarmed assailant.

In the end, I’m not sure just how different this investigation would have been, would I have only used Gumshoe or 5e, but I think this approach is a good synthesis. Players with relevant skills are guaranteed a clue (Gumshoe), but exactly how much they learn is determined by a dice roll (5e).

The second goal of this session was to really force some intra-party RP on the players, as I think RP is one of our weakest areas as a group.

In general, part of that is obviously my fault. Creating a campaign takes work, and early on, my NPC game was terrible. I think I’ve improved though, and so has the rest of the party, when it comes to interacting with NPCs.

But intra-party RP is still pretty lacking. Two recent examples in particular come to mind:

Turnin’s Dragonmark – It manifested on the back of his head, and while the player hadn’t settled on what mark it would actually be, two sessions went by with no one saying a word about it in-character.
Shadowale’s Doppelganger – The player played it well, as he is secretive of his past and tried to downplay the discovery…  but no one else took the bait to probe him a bit.

I think we are all still finding our footing to some extent when it comes to D&D. But for those wanting to really get the most out of it, I would encourage you to think a little more about your character, and to talk more in-character with your fellow players at the table. This last session was a good step in the right direction, but I still think we have room for improvement in the RP department.

Eberron Adventure: Eighteenth Session

The party, after safely delivering Gofer, Wrench, and the latter’s two wounded assistants to a safe house belonging to their society, delivered their captured elemental to the Clifftop Adventurer’s Guild. Unfortunately, due to their long nap and other obstacles, they were not the first ones to turn in an elemental. Fortunately, the consortium needs more than one, and since the party’s specimen is so superior, they are more than happy to accept it too. A cash bounty is turned over to the party, and the Clifftop Adventurer’s promise to keep them in mind for future jobs. Maybe an expedition to the wild continent of Xen’Drik will be in the party’s future?

They return to Ghallanda Hall, which is still their base of operations, though they are now paying for their room and board. After sleeping away most of the day, Rhogar, the dragonborn paladin returns to them with dire news.

The ministerial branch of the Silver Flame has been massacred. In the night, while the party was pushing chumps into lava and wrestling elementals and running on ceilings, the Daask (allegedly) broke into the clerical and scholarly enclave of the religious order, and slew all the neophytes and teachers present. Rhogar has been patrolling the outer perimeters of the enclave, while the City Watch has locked it down, by orders of the dwarven paladin Steve, the Grand Templar of the Silver Flame.

The human wizard Kyllar looks on the door to their private room, and notices a note. It is from Asmund, the paladin from the train. His small order (currently just him and his master are in Sharn) are worried about the possibility of a devastating crusade. All they know of the violence is what Steve has told them, and they are hesitant to commit to something so extreme without verifying it for themselves. Neither Asmund nor his master is stealthy, so Asmund has asked the party to infiltrate the enclave, investigate the scene and report what they find.

The halfling rogue Shadowale has also heard of the massacre and imminent threat of crusade through his underworld contacts. He tells the party that a hit is being considered on a high-ranking Templar in an attempt to stop a crusade from being proclaimed.

The human monk Turnin, and the gnome barbarian Gnofulk are enthralled by the dropping of knowledge, but have none to offer themselves in this case, though Gnofulk remembers the warforged terrorists from the train, and vows to keep an eye out for wayward gears.

Kyllar prepares a note for Asmund, and gives it to his still-unnamed kobold pet, shooing him out the door to go deliver the message. The party gears up, and sets out.

The clerical enclave for the Silver Flame is very high up in Sharn, and spans similar levels of a few towers.  The height is so great, that the usual spiderweb of tower-to-tower bridges and multiple entrances and causeways are absent; there are only two official entrances to the enclave, and the City Watch will be guarding all known routes to it.

From a distance, the party surveys the enclave. They decide that the direct approach will serve them best, and approach it from the sanctuary entrance, marching in formation. They are stopped by five members of the City Watch. Rhogar, at the head of the formation halts, and clears his draconic throat to speak for the party.

When the guards ask what the party is doing, Rhogar’s mind, exhausted after an already long day, draws a seemingly endless series of blanks. He forgets not only the name of his guild, but the secrecy part of the assignment, tells the guardsmen that a big man hired them to investigate the scene of the crime. The guards aren’t convinced, but also aren’t concerned, as Rhogar’s bluffs are so innocently (if unconvincingly) uttered.

The party retreats, and decides to approach from the other entrance, near the dining hall. They wisely refrain from impersonating kitchen staff, and instead approach the quartet of guards. After a brief conversation about curiosity, Turnin fumbles with a small bribe, and coins fall from his hand onto the sky bridge. After collecting them, the party retreats again. Fortunately, again, the party’s attempts at infiltration aren’t considered serious or threatening or noteworthy.

A bit disheartened at their lack of success, the party decides to approach the arboretum; a park on top of a tower adjacent to the clerical enclave. While a separate tower, with no direct access to the arboretum, the enclave does have a private observation deck overlooking the arboretum, and the party thinks they could find a way to enter via the deck, should they be able to get into the arboretum…

…but the Sharn City Watch has covered this possible entrance as well. While usually open to the public all day every day as a refuge from urban concerns, and a small sanctuary for traveling druids and those more in touch with nature, the Watch is guarding this entrance as well. Spotting a trio of guards on the western-most entrance to the arboretum, the party halts in the shadows, and gathers their wits to form a new plan.

They opt to play the bureaucracy card. Will a few minor illusions copying Rhogar’s Blademark’s Guild badge, again the party marches purposefully towards the city watch guards. This time, Kyllar does the talking, and convinces the guards that there was a mix-up in orders, and that the Blademark’s should guard this spot, and the Watch should be patrolling. Amazingly, it works. The guards leave to patrol, and the party takes up position guarding the sky bridge… for a few minutes.

Once the Watch is out of sight, Kyllar conjures an illusion of some nondescript guards in the entrance, and the party stealthy makes their way through the arboretum.

The arboretum sits atop a large, flat-topped tower. A tall, vine-covered wall encases it, preventing visitors from accidentally falling. A few natural-looking but artificial fountains bubble ceaselessly, and a variety of large trees reach into the sky.

The observation deck juts out from the enclave building, hanging a good sixty feet above the arboretum ground. After a brief discussion regarding order of operations, Turnin attaches a rope to himself, and with the aid of Kyllar’s magic, is able to jump from the arboretum wall to the wall of the enclave tower, and then scamper up to the observation deck. From there, he lowers down the rope, and the party slowly and quietly ascends to join the monk.

The party takes a moment to enjoy the view before entering the enclave. They find themselves in a library with 5 entrances. Shadowale creeps in, and does a circuit of the room, listening intently for any signs of other intruders, though hears nothing. A quick perusal of the shelves provides no real clues, and Turnin is ridiculed for still carrying around Brenda’s clerical tome on the Sealers of the Stone Maw. Still on the lookout for gears, now, in the cold stone of the enclave, not the arboretum, Gnofulk decides to expand his search to include small rodents and woodland creatures, who may have seen something. Everything is nice and orderly in the library, and the books and scrolls present are more history and treatises on official dogma rather than awesome spells.

The party adopts a methodical approach, and turns to enter the Reliquary, though they find their way blocked. The party can see wooden doors, but a lattice of ornate, unbroken metal work covers them, preventing passage. Shadowale can find no lock, so Kyllar prepares a spell to detect magic, and discovers that the door is locked by clerical magic, and only a cleric spell would unlock it.

Turnin remembers his tome, and casts one of their spells that the Silver Flame clerics taught him. The doors open, a reveal empty display cases and scroll racks. With some insight, the party is able to infer that these are all religious icons. Not only would it be hard for someone not of the Silver Flame to gain entry, the relics would also likely require some religious devotion to be of any use; no layman could wield them effectively.

The party abandons the Reliquary, and moves onto the study hall nearby. It is a large room, with eight smaller “cubby” rooms attached. All the rooms have tables and chairs, and everything is nice and tidy here.

They then move onto the Cloister, which is actually in an adjacent tower, and reached by an enclosed walkway. Inside, there a several windowless bare rooms, adorned with only a simple rug or mat on which to sit and meditate. Even Shadowale must crouch to enter these cramped rooms, and does, as he intently searches every room. Amazingly, when a rug is thrown back a trapdoor is revealed in one of the rooms!

The intrepid Gnofulk is brought in, and urged down through the trapdoor due to his inherent pathfinding abilities. It is a cramped way, but after descending down a winding stone staircase approximately three tall stories, Gnofolk reaches the end, and emerges into a small chamber. After messing with the wall, he is able to find another secret entrance, leading to a secluded alleyway.

Rhogar, a longtime-resident of Sharn, recalls an urban legend of a particularly lecherous halfling cleric, who was rumored to have continued in her escapades somehow despite being sequestered in the Silver Flame. It appears the party has confirmed an old urban legend. Gnofulk ascends, returning to the Cloister, and informing the party that he has found an exit for (most) of them (Rhogar is far too big).

Confidently, the party exits the Cloister and enters the Sanctuary via the library, where they assumed the carnage unfolded. They are disappointed. The Sanctuary is a massive room… but empty. A pulpit of sorts dominates one end of the room, the stage shared with a large sculpture of silver flames, which Kyllar is able to determine is actually magically enchanted, providing small . No pews or chairs are found here – believers are servants of goodness and the flame, and much approach in stances of humble supplication.

Nothing is immediately seen here, and Kyllar, with a small conjured flame in hand, begins a circuit of the huge room. As he reaches the end opposite the holy sculpture, he sees the crumpled forms of two bodies. Knowing there are guards on the other side of the Sanctuary doors, he quietly calls over the rest of the party to investigate…

The party knows that the enclave is guarded by Templar at night, is able to deduce that the guards (low-ranking paladins) were caught unaware as their swords are still in their scabbards. They are able to determine that they were killed by a series of devastating economical unarmed strikes; each blow was struck with practiced precision and with purpose, to silence; to cripple; to kill.

A Turnin and Shadowale regard the violence, they are struck by the varied placements. Strikes seemt to have come from a variety of angles and heights; to catch both guards aware, the killer would have been a flurry of violent activity.

Kyllar determines these doors are locked, and pockets the small keyring still on the person of one of the slain paladin guards. The party backtracks to the sculpture end of the Sanctuary, and departs the room towards the kitchens and dormitories.

Maintaining their methodical approach, the party makes a series of right turns, and enters the closest dormitory.

The common room is littered with bodies, but Rhogar is able to determine that these clerics died fighting, on their feet, felled by powerful unarmed strikes and by animal-like mauling and ripping. The party is able to determine that the clerics died at approximately the same time. As they investigate the bodies, the party finds that some of the assailants have died here as well. At first glance they appear to be Daask. Closer inspection finds them to be disguised long-dead zombies, and Kyllar is able to detect and find another necromantic control rod in the spines of one of the zombies. Detaching the head and artifact, the studious wizard uses a spare bag to house the grisly evidence.

The second dormitory is laid out the same, but had different events unfold. The common room, while messy with the grime of a throng of zombies, has no bodies – these are found in the bedrooms nearby. Rhogar is able to determine that these clerics were caught mostly by surprise; startled awake and slain in short order, killed by unthinking rends and gouges.

Evidence in hand, the party makes their way to the nearby dining hall. They find evidence of the zombies here as well; the numerous stools and tables are strewn about and everything is filthy. Three more paladin guards are found dead, taken again by surprise and again killed with precise and deadly unarmed blows.

The party, constantly positing theories since their arrival, begin to piece together a narrative… they quickly ruled out that Turnin was mind-controlled. And they also quickly realize that they still need to exit in secret. Wanting to map the secret cloister passage, the party decides to lower Rhogar back into the arboretum, using the rope that Turnin, strict follower-of-instructions-that-he-is, still has tied to his person, and has been trailing behind him the entire time. With Rhogar’s feet back on the ground, Kyllar instructs him to wind the rope back up, with Turnin dutifully does.

Rhogar exits the arboretum via the bridge guarded by Kyllar’s illusions, while the rest of the party returns to the Cloister passage. The space is cramped, and they descend slowly, but emerge into the secluded alley without incident. Gnofulk and Kyllar are able to quickly sketch out the location of this secret space, and will bring this to the Ghallanda Hall middleman for reward later…

The party reconvenes at Ghallanda Hall as the dawn breaks, and are greeted by Asmund, who asks what the party has found.

Kyllar relates the prevailing theory, with help from other party members, and backed up by the grisly evidence bag.

The party believes that Daask are being set-up. The paladin guards in the enclave were caught unaware, and killed by practiced, professional unarmed strikes. While unsure how this intruder entered, the party believes the intruder let in a throng of zombies disguised as Daask into the enclave by way of the dining hall. Once inside, the clerics were killed by the intruder and the zombies. The news is supported by the bits of disguises and by the necromancy rod recovered by Kyllar.

Asmund is still clad in plate; his face still hidden by a mask. Kyllar mentions, almost in passing, that the Reliquary was emptied. This seems to rouse something in Asmund though. The ministerial branch of the Silver Flame creates most of the potent religious icons for war, dolling them out only when they have proclaimed a crusade or deem a task worthy, and the Reliquary shouldn’t be accessible to someone without a clerical or paladin background. Something bad is brewing in Sharn…

Eberron Adventure: Seventeenth Session

The human wizard Kyllar had ingratiated himself with the Clifftop Adventurer’s Guild, who had then outsourced a task to him and the party: to bind and capture a fiery elemental to use in an experimental airship. It was more a bounty than a contract, and the party learned of several other adventurous groups combing the Cogs for an elemental as well. After searching some lava pools in vain, and generally adventuring all around this area of Sharn and running into all sorts of old acquaintances, the party happened upon a foundry, run by the society of warforged to which Gofer (and Bulwark) had belonged.

Noticing the symbolic broaches of the community (a femur with a gear for the ball joint), attached to various member of the party, the foreman, Wrench, greeted the party cordially and allowed them into the foundry. They got to chatting, and soon the party had convinced the foreman to use the foundry to help summon the elemental. This is no small task, but Wrench agrees on behalf of the community, and indeed will work harder and quicker if the party uses this downtime to clear out a nearby neighborhood that has become Daask turf. The party agreed, and dutifully demolished the shanty town, slaying the small number of Daask gangster brutes there, and then returning to the foundry’s break room to rest while the workers set about getting stuff ready to summon an elemental.

The halfling rogue known as Shadowale had wandered back from drinking or gambling or murdering or whatever he was doing, and brought up to speed, though Rhogar the dragonborn fighter received a missive from his Guild and had to bail on the endeavor shortly after Shadowale arrived.

The party’s rest is interrupted by a frantic warforged, whom they recognize as Gofer. The party sleepily begged for more sleepy time; drowsily asked Gofer when he showed up here; and languidly asked him to explain just what he meant by “Get up, the Foundry is being overrun!”

Gofer exasperatingly explains that someone must have seen the party attack the Daask shanty town and informed the brutes... because they just assaulted the foundry moments ago, overpowering the Foreman and his two assistants, who had remained behind (with Gofer) to help the party summon with and deal with the elemental.

The now-conscious party, consisting of Kyllar, Shadowale, the human monk Turnin and the gnome barbarian Gnofulk, weighs their options, and thinks they can probably summon the elemental and deal with the intruders, so long as they are careful. While not a worker in the foundry, Gofer is vaguely aware of what needed to be done to summon the elemental, and agrees to help the party, declaring that a journey of one thousand miles begins with a single step, and that the first step here should be towards the canals.

The party sneakily heads into the Lava Canals, stumbling only a little bit. They cross small bridge over the canals, and on the little platform on which they stand in the corner of the room, the party notice a strong chain looped into the wall. Gofer informs them that pulling on this will raise a stopper outside, and allow some lava into the canals of the foundry. The gnome barbarian Gnofulk and Shadowale start pulling on the chain, though it makes a lot of racket, and their huffing and puffing for strength and focus in their efforts are pretty loud. A patrol of satyrs-like beings is attracted from the direction of the entrance, and another group, led by an Orc approaches from the direction of the Crucible room.

The party takes a few minor wounds from the satyr bowmen, but Gofer and Shadowale work diligently on the chain. Screened by the rest of the party, Kyllar’s kobold eagerly watches while Kyllar himself throws a fireball as the cohort approaching from the direction of the entrance, which draws blood from most of them, and badly singes the hair on the rest. Gnofulk follows up with a few thrown javelins, and then joins Turnin in defending the bridge over the canal, which is now starting to flow with lava.

The intruders crashed upon the party in waves as the lava flows freely. Gofer points out a large spigot nearby, and he and Shadowale start to diver the flow into the foundry’s canals while the rest of the party weathers the attacks.

Turnin bravely holds the bridge, even managing to slay a charging beast man with a dart to the eye, but eventually succumbs to injuries. Gnofulk advances to protect the unconscious monk while Gofer moves to drag him away from the dangerous clashing of weapons.

Blows are traded on the bridge, with Gnofulk managing to shove a satyr into the now freely flowing lava. Kyllar’s kobold administers a very small healing potion to Turnin, reviving him. With the bridge holding despite the momentary loss of Turnin, Shadowale flings himself over the canal to slice at some of the remaining satyr archers.

The unorganized assault on their position is failing, and the orc commander finally joins the fray, throwing his axe and severely wounding Gnofulk as he attempts to charge the bridge. Gnofulk weathers the orc’s blows, and eventually pitches him into the lava as well.

The patrols defeated here, the party takes stock of their summoning situation. The party notices that while the spigot has diverted some of the lava into the canals, some is still flowing right back outside. From the look of things, Gofer thinks that the spigot is functioning normally, and is in fact, not designed to diver all the lava. Kyllar conjures a magical barrier to assist the spigot and divert ALL the lava into the canals, which soon start to overflow a little.

The party searches for a way to make the foundry a little more wild and unsafe (that is, more conducive to “accidentally” spawning a fiery elemental). Everyone but Gnofulk, the shortest in the group, notice magic bellows handing from the cavern’s ceiling, and start working them, aerating the river of lava and teasing gouts of flame from it. The lava continues to flow, the bellows making the river hotter and hotter.

The party works the bellows with such diligence, that they do not notice another small patrol of Daask entering the area behind them. As Gofer continues to work, the party repels the attack, with several more brutes being tossed into the flowing lava.

Gofer is getting nervous now, and the party feels they are on the right track. Hearing a shaking from the next cavern room, the party abandons the bellows and enters the room containing the Crucible, a device usually used to safely heat up the metal so the workers can work with it.

Now, the lava seems to be heating it beyond the usual safe thresholds, and Gofer thinks it is only a matter of time now, so the party gets to planning. Kyllar unpacks the gear provided him by the Clifftop Adventurer’s Guild; bracers are given to Turnin and Gnofulk, who will have to grapple the elemental to attach them, and the final controlling collar is kept by Kyllar. Ever the planner, Kyllar also summons his familiar, which flies into the actual foundry and casting area of the complex, and notices a straggling group of Daask fighters smashing casting molds.

The party fans out, surrounding the rattling cubed Crucible. Suddenly, the Crucible cracks, though continues to rattle, and fiery elemental emerges, spilling out onto the floor next to Shadowale, and slamming into the halfling.

Frostbolts from Kyllar streaks into the elemental, as Turnin strikes it and Shadowale disengages. Gnofulk lunges, and manages to attach his bracer to the fiery elemental, weakening it. Turnin soon follows suit, but finds that while weakened, the elemental is not yet controlled, and it slams into the monk, knocking him unconscious.

Gofer nervously notes that the lava still seems to be dangerously hot – and another elemental starts to spill out from the cracked wreckage of this Crucible. The party orders Gofer to go twist the spigot back, and Kyllar dismisses his conjured barrier near it.

Kyllar summons a disembodied hand to clasp the control collar to the weakened elemental. His kobold drips another healing potion down Turnin’s throat, and the party gives the newly arrived elementa a wide berth while they frantically plan.

In an usual instance of self-sacrifice, Shadowale catches the attention of the new elemental, and begins drawing it towards the foundry’s casting area. Kyllar cradles his kobold, and casts Spider Climb on the elemental, Turnin and Gnofulk, who migrate to the ceiling of the cavern room.

As they approach the last patrol still ransacking the casting area of the foundry, Kyllar conjures a large  illusionary elemental which startles the patrol as the real elemental sloshes after Shadowale, who took advantage of the distractions to stealthily sprint past the patrols. The party lurks, watching the Daask beasts first attempt to fight the closer illusion, and then fall to the burning predations of the real elemental. A final Frostbolt from Kyllar ends the victorious rampaging elemental before it can wander away to cause more harm.

Impressed but rattled, Gofer approaches the party, and suggests that they leave now, before anything else happens. On the way out, the party finds the unconscious forms of Wrench and his two assistants. The party works to stabilize the fallen warforged while keeping an eye out for any more Daask patrols. Wrench regains himself, and agrees with Gofer that this is not the time for apologies or discussions.

The group retreats from the Cogs, stopping briefly outside a dull, uninteresting tower level at the behest of Gofer, who helps his metal comrades enter the building. The community will be in touch with the party later, once they have a chance to regroup, but for now, Gofer suggests pressing on and delivering the elemental to the Clifftop Adventurers, and their venture partners before anything else happens.

Eberron Adventure: Sixteenth Session

The human wizard Kyllar was able to get the party on the good side of the Clifftop Adventurer’s Guild (feel free to ask him how he did it), a guild focused on exploration and adventure, particularly around the continent of Xen’Drik. This guild, in cooperation with House Orien (couriers) and House Cannith (inventors) are seeking to build a new airship. The next series of their tests requires more power, and they have offered up a bounty on a certain kind of fire elemental.

Several other groups have taken up the bounty, and along with the party, have descended deep into the foundations of Sharn to hunt, as it is the closest likely place to find an elemental. The area is known as the Cogs; large caverns beneath Sharn, and home to slums and foundries. Shanties litter the area, and the landscape is pitted with lava pools, and several bridges have been built to cross the rivers of lava that have carved their way into the landscape.

The full party, along with Kyllar’s newly hatched (but as-yet-unnamed) pet Kobold entered this cavern of the Cogs from the northeast, diving right into the most populated area, and wasting no time plying the locals for any rumors of fire elementals. The adults in the area regarded the party warily, trying to interpose themselves between their curious children and these armed topsiders. A few kind words and magic tricks (erm, illusions!), as well as recognizing the gnome barbarian Gnofulk, who has been down here a lot, and the locals were convinced that the party meant them no harm. The party learned from the locals that these elementals are uncommon, and if they were to manifest, it would be near a very hot heat source, such as the lava pools to the south.


The party gleefully scampered south, and started rooting around the shallow lava pools. Finding nothing of interest in the pools, the party looked around, and noticed what appeared to be a cave bored into one of the rocky pillars supporting the cavern. Treading carefully around the pools, the party entered the cave, whose interior was illuminated by a soft red glow of tiny lava pools inside. The party ventured in, and soon found themselves under attack by small, red-frilled snakes defending the smoldering pools they called home.

The human monk Turnin ran parallel to the nearest snake, and holding the very end of his staff, swung in a wide arc and connected, but only managed to toss it a little ways back. Gnofulk smushed onewith his mighty axe; Kyllar blasted away with a frosty ray, while the dragonborn fighter Rhogar and the halfling rogue Shadowale stabbed at the critters. Turnin ended the fight with another odd arc swing, which tossed the last snake into a pool of lava where it slithered deeper and decided to remain. The nuisance over, the party continued through the cave, quickly finding another passage that lead to an overlook and a steep drop down into one of the lave rivers. Winding carefully along the path, the party edged back into the shanty town and away from the diversion of the cave. They noticed another massive support pillar for the cavern had been bored into with signs of industry. This was the mark of a foundry!



Faint clangs emanated from the huge “building”, which had no doors as the foundry was constantly in use. They walked inside, and were greeted by a stout old dwarf, who, upon noticing their weapons, quipped that the party did look like they were here to work a shift. Indeed they weren’t, and the party inquired whether or not and fire elementals had been seen in the area. The dwarf laughed; no elementals would be found here. This operation runs like clockwork; elementals are wild; feral things. He suggested the party look elsewhere, dismissed them with a wave of his hand and turned to return to his work supervising the work.

The party left the foundry complex, and as they crossed over a bridge into another area of this Cog, a boisterous, screechy voice greeted Gnofulk; it was Zeekee, the goblin manager/trainer of Rhaaal the Orc, whom the party had met on the train in the bar car. Zeekee thanked Gnofulk for sparring recently with Rhaaal, though he noted that the Orc was still having trouble with – what did you call that move? – Gnofulk’s “sucker punch.” Zeekee was off to pick up lunch for himself and Rhaaal before the latter competed in some uh.. less-than-legal fights soon. Shadowale asked about the odds of the fight, but Zeekee didn’t know; he doesn’t check the odds. Confidence was high however, despite still having trouble with sucker punches. When pressed the goblin didn’t know anything about elementals, but did warn against entering three particular neighborhoods in this Cog – those were now run by the Daask. Blood would likely be spilled if the party encroached upon their turf.

Zeekee bid farewell, and the party picked their way through a few more non-Daask neighborhoods on their way to a larger expanse of lava pools. They ventured further and further out, looking for any sign of heat or flame that could hit an elemental’s presence. While they searched in vain, there was a rumble and creaking, the lava flows cracked, shifting the pools, and the party found themselves on a small rocky island surrounded by about 40 feet of lava on all sides.

After some cursing, Kyllar saved the day, conjuring the trusty magical disc to ferry the party back and forth across the bubbling lava to safety. Rhogar was the last to be ferried over, and as the party collected themselves, they realized that Shadowale was nowhere to be seen. Mayhaps the Halfling got bored of the quest and wandered off to see the fight?

The party backtracked into the slums, and on a narrow street, noticed the soup shop that Zeekee had mentioned. The party walked in and was greeted with a squeak of delight from the owner behind the counter. It was Zoop, the cowering goblin short-order cook from Snarg’s Bistro on the train car, now the proud owner and operator of Zoop’s Soups. Soups were on the house; Rhogar, Kyllar and Gnofulk trying the “soup with meat” and Turnin choosing the “soup without meat.”Zoop related to the party that Snarg was still “riding the rails” with his bistro car, but he had had enough of that life, and opted to open up a shop in Sharn, and in the Cogs, where rent was cheap. As the party slurped up their meal, he warned them to steer clear of the Daask neighborhoods. As for fiery elementals, Zoop suggested trying somewhere hotter? As the party bid farewell and resumed their task, Kyllar’s guts began to protest against the meal, and he became violently ill, spewing the soup into the river of lava nearby. His pet kobold patted him reassuringly on the back.

The spittle was wiped from his chin, and Kyllar led the party into the nearby Fizzo’s Tavern for a few digestif drinks to help cope with Zoop’s soup. As they sipped their drinks, the party chatted with the satyr barkeep. They learned a little bit why the locals had been eyeing up the armed party with suspicion; the ever-zealous Church of the Silver Flame had been preaching again, with a more-than-usual emphasis on scouring evil from Eberron. There had been a few scuffles here and there, and the denizens were a bit worried that violence would visit them soon. About fire elementals... Fizzo was unsure. Occasionally one would manifest, and destroy a few buildings, but that was very rare. If they did manifest with any regularity, it would be further out; away from the (slightly) cooler populated areas.

The party left Fizzo’s, and this apparently being a particularly busy and congested part of town, immediately bumped into another familiar figure, and again from the train; Asmund, the (formerly) concussed paladin, clad in plate and his face obscured by his usual mask.

Asmund greets “Friend Kyllar” and inquired as to what he was doing in the Cogs. Kyllar summarized the task at hand, and inquired the same. Asmund stated that he was scouting the Cogs; his Chapter Commander thought there was an Evil lurking in this Cog, and needed more information. So far, Asmund has scouted several Daask strongholds, and was on his way to report back to the Commander. The party asks if Asmund would help them fight the Daask, but the paladin refuses. Tensions are high, and drawing blade against them, even if only the Daask criminals were slain, would simply fan the flames and increase tensions in Sharn between the denizens (orcs, goblins, satyrs, etc) and the more gentrified races (elves, etc). Tensions are high enough due to the ministerial branch of the Silver Flame. Asmund bids the party farewell, and they continue on to several large lave pools.

As Gnofulk relieves himself into a pool, producing a very satisfying sizzle, Kyllar readies a spell to detect magic, hoping that maybe an elemental would somehow trigger it. Surprisingly, something is resonating from one of the pools, lurking just below the surface. Pausing for a second to consider his options, Kyllar decides to lob a “good-sized rock” laying nearby into the pool.

With an ominous rumble, something large slithers out from the pool, sloshing lava as it bears down on the party. It has a vaguely snake-like face, and its long arms brandish a trident and a shield as it’s lithe body undulates menacingly towards the party.

Kyllar is quick to act, and blasts the beast with a particularly cold spell, bloodying the beast immediately. Gnofolk wickedly slashes the beast, though the burning mantle of the monster injures him as well. The slithering thing lashes out at Gnofulk poking him with the trident and batting him with his tail, though the blows seem weaker than they should be, given the slither’s . Rhogar run forward slashing once at the beast, and readies himself to counter further attacks.. but the monster is slain; molten blood oozing from the wounds and multitude of scales, which sundered when they were forcibly cooled by Kyllar.

The party gathers their breath, and Kyllar ferrets out the magic item; a shield, and readies a ritual to identify it. The party takes a break. They prod the dead thing with their boots; take a few swigs of water; and stretch a bit. Kyllar triumphantly identifies the item as an Arrow-Catching Shield; a magical item that will give the bearer an edge in blunting the ranged attacks of their foes. Rhogar eagerly lifts up the shield, though it will take some time for him to master the new shape and weight.

The party skirts a Daask neighborhood, and crosses another bridge into the third borough of this Cog. A smattering of Daask-controlled shanties lay against another rock face in the west, monitoring traffic across another bridge and way up into the lower tower areas of Sharn. On the eastern end of the borough, is few other abandoned shanties, and an uneasy looking foundry, with a unique but recognizable symbol above it: a femur bone with gear for it’s joint.

Like the other foundry, this one appears to be in constant operation, and also has no doors. A din arises from within, and as they enter, the party can see workers swiftly moving to make adjustments to machines and cleaning up messes as quickly as they can. The party is soon greeted by a Warforged, whose appearance, after the train incident, startles Turnin. The Warforged identifies himself as Wrench, and he begins to soothe Turnin and talk with the party. The society recently acquired this old defunct foundry, and is working on getting it up to speed. It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, and they’ve had their mishaps, but they are learning the ropes quickly. He mentions of the mishaps resulted in accidentally super-heating some metal, which manifested a fire elemental, which rampaged through part of the foundry.

The party asks more about the mishaps, and if they could be replicated. Wrench assumes so, but asks why he’d ever want to, as the elemental caused such a dreadful mess. The party explains their task, and asks again for assistance. After some hesitation, Wrench agrees, though it will take him a long while time to reorganize the foundry, in order to reduce possible collateral damage from the procedure. He calls a few other Warforged over to begin preparation, while the party mulls over what to do in the meantime. They mention maybe assaulting the small Daask neighborhood on the other side of the borough, which perks up Wrench’s auditory holes. If the party were to clear out that neighborhood, the society will redouble their efforts preparing to manifest an elemental for the party. The party agrees to the new terms, puts on their game faces, and begins to cross the street.

Small satyr-like creatures, standing watch atop some of the sturdier buildings, raise the alarm as the party approaches, but distance is quickly closed. Kyllar is first to act, sprinting toward the first tower and jumping as high as he can…

At the apex of his jump, Kyllar unleashes a resounding clap of thunder, which muddles the brains of the tiny satyrs, and tosses them off of the roof, far away and out of the fight. Kyllar lands and crouches near the base of the building, hoping he wasn’t seen by anyone else. Gnofulk is next to arrive, and hurls several javelins toward the other tower-like structure as he advances, wounding the last satyr sentry. With a long running start, Turnin enters the battle, using his quarterstaff as a pole to vault up incredibly high towards the tiny wounded satyr atop the structure. With a mighty horizontal swing at the apex of his jump, Turnin clobbers the little satyr, cracking his skull and propelling him off the roof. On reflex, he grasps the roof ledge and hangs there while Rhogar charges in, looking block potential reinforcements from some pathways into the rest of the shantytown.



Reinforcements do arrive moments later, and three bestial men converge on Rhogar, trading vicious blows while Turnin dangles above the melee. Meanwhile an Orc and bestial man arrive from another direction, and descend upon an unaware Kyllar, felling him before turning to face the Gnofulk who is now bristling with rage.

Turnin drops down into the melee, and swings his quarterstaff with gusto while Rhogar slashes with his blade; both party members deal out serious injuries, and manage to fell one foe. Gnofolk and his attackers trade a few blows, though nothing hits. Turnin lands a few more strikes and Rhogar belches draconic flames, ending another foe while Gnofulk takes a beating. Seeing an opening in the fighting, Kyllar’s pet Kobold scampers around the fray and feeds a small, patented healing potion to Kyllar, just like he was taught to. Kyllar crawls a little bit away from the fight, and blasts the Orc with a cone of fire.

Leaving Rhogar to deal with the last bestial man on that side, Turnin leaps up, and kicks off the wall of the structure, propelling himself into the other fight. Soon, the Daask brutes are no more. Most of the shanties were simple lean-tos; blown away by Kyllar’s opening Thunderwave and exposing nothing more than sleeping pallets. The party quickly searches the sturdier structures, and finds a few weapon racks with low quality instruments of war. However they do find two casks of the “Rye Not?” whiskey from House Ghallanda. They quickly roll the casks back to the safety of the foundry, and take the opportunity to rest while the workers ready the foundry to manifest the elemental…

DM Thoughts on Grayshore

Grayshore was one of our best sessions, and the closest we’ve come (I think) to a stereotypical D&D session.

Being grown-ass men, the party is typically genre savvy, and they are conditioned to explore all the things, lest they miss something. I’m not a fan of having good gear hidden in plain sight like that, but I did want to oblige their usual wanderlust with more RP opportunities. They would be heading south, wandering further and further into the area most effected by the disappearances, with 5 shipping companies; and at least a pair each of shops, bars, and inns; and then even a Lovecraft-inspired discovery to be made should the players catch on to the clues references and RP well.

Well, none of that happened. We made it to two shipping companies when the usually exhaustive inquisitors decided they had enough, and hatched a solid plan. I made them do one more company, and then let it succeed. All that other DM prep work, gone…

Their Gnofulk as bait stratagem was golden, mostly because the player WAS a bit drunk, and so RPed as drunk bait amazingly. Following 100 feet back was also a golden moment, as combat started and they realized just how far back they were, even with dashes at their disposal…

My original plans definitely would NOT have fit into one session, so I was really, really pleased with how this unfolded. Plus, now the party has this cool plot hook of someone hiding in Sharn, commanding a small army on undead and just biding their time…

Eberron Adventure: Fifteenth Session

Sharn is a big (vertical) city. Crime exists, but in Grayshore, a waterfront district in Sharn heavily involved with trade and shipping, an unusually high number of persons have disappeared recently, including a pair of patrolmen from Sharn’s city Watch. No bodies have yet been found, and the only thing the missing persons seem to have in common was that they were taken in this part of town.

In an effort to find the missing persons and the reasons for their disappearances, the City Watch has offered up rewards, and one of the shipping companies in the area, Marsh Family Shipping has hired a number of sellswords from the Blademarks Guild, including Rhogar, to patrol the area at night, and to assist the City Watch and increase vigilance in the area.

In the small hours on a chilly night, the party, consisting of Shadowale the halfling rogue, Rhogar the dragonborn fighter, Gnofulk the (presently tipsy) gnome barbarian, Turnin the human monk, and Kyllar the human wizard, meets up, and enters the Greyshore district from the north, walking along the quiet bridges that spawn the towers and the narrow paths that corkscrew up the walls.

The party elected to keep on the main thoroughfares, and began their patrol/investigation by visiting one of the shipping companies, “Half the Time Shipping.” The company took up several floors in this tower; all of it making up one massive room. The party entered from a bridge on the more “warehouse” side, though they could see and hear magical cranes operating on the other side of the tower. A halfling met them near the entrance, who thanked the party for their assistance, but assured them that the company had no missing persons, and had experienced no ill effects from the disappearances. The diminutive person stressed that all the disappearances have been further south. Based on the conversations between workers that could be overheard, Shadowale deduced that this is probably a company working with the Boromar Clan, a halfling mafia composed of dozens of influential halfling families.

They left the warehouse via another narrow bride, and noticed an inn nearby, "The Fluffy Pillow.” While they could hear indistinct conversations inside, the party found the front door to be locked, so they knocked. Another halfling hushed his comrades and opened the door, informed the party that they were closed and attempted to shut the door. Kyller managed to get his foot in the door, and inquired about a room. The halfling conceded that they were open, but were literally all booked up. Kyllar’s foot-serving-as-door stop allowed the party to glimpse the common room of the inn, which had about a dozen armed halflings. They decided to leave well enough alone, and departed gracefully.

The continued on, and after another bridge or two, they chanced upon a tavern called “The Naked Dwarf.” Hoping for the best but assuming the worst, the party entered, with (assumedly) their eyes closed. The bar was empty, save for an older female dwarf and a few bouncers conversing in a corner. The barkeep was shocked at the customers, and offered them drinks, which the party accepted.

The party gathered around, eagerly plying the owner with questions, and the owner replying just as eagerly, ecstatic to have customers. The dwarf related the story of the tavern’s name; its former owner, her former husband, tended to disrobe when he drank, and many years ago, he wandered outside, and fell to his death. (Generally, it’s hard to fall to death in Sharn, as there is a standing reward for people casting Feather Fall on anyone falling. However, it was night, and no one was around to see this dwarf fall). She talked of how bad business was – all the missing people have gone missing at night – so everyone is scared, few people go outside, and no one is reveling the night away anymore. She’ll be very happy when this is all over with and the people found. The tavern hasn’t lost any employees, or patrons to her knowledge, but someone needs to put a stop to this, as tensions are running high in the neighborhood. The party informs her that they’re off to do what they can, as they finish their drinks, tip generously, and leave.

The party continued south, along the main bridges and pathways, with Kyllar’s nondescript avian familiar flying above them in the night. Through its eyes, Kyllar witnesses a small brawl near Rock Steady Shipping, a shipping company a little ways ahead of them.

The party hustles, but the fight was broken up and disbursed by the time they arrived. The City watch tried to move the party along too, but the party convinced them to chat a little. They learn that the guards are happy for the help, though they think the reward is hampering their efforts: they seem to be investigating more old grudges than real leads on the disappearances.

The Watch returns to patrolling, and the party stops into Rock Steady Shipping; far larger than “Half the Time,” but organized the same way. A stout dwarf grumpily meets them near the entrance in the warehouse section of the room, grumbling about being behind schedule. The party learns that he’s had about 10 workers go missing over the last month – snatched up coming or going to their shifts, or while on break. Workers are banding together, which has generally improved safety, but also led to squabbles and brawls with other shipping companies. Everyone is tense, and accusations are running wild. He thanks the party for their assistance in patrolling, but apologizes that he really must get back to work. When the party asks to interview workers, the dwarf relents, and singles out another dwarf, whose brother has recently gone missing. From this worker, the party learns that the dwarf went missing on his way home after a shift, and that he had a bright, burning red beard. No other useful information is gleaned, so the party apologizes for the loss, and takes their leave.

The party decides that the only way they’ll solve this is by fishing. Having started drinking prior to patrolling, a tipsy Gnofulk (who had lost track of time prior to the patrol and gotten a little drunk) is offered up as bait, with Shadowale following sneakily a short ways back, followed by Rhogar, Turnin and Kyllar about 100 yards behind the bait.

While a solid plan, the party picked a particularly short and well-lit area of the district to try this in. Gnofulk convincingly stumbled forward, alternatively bumbling his axe and using it to steady himself; Shadowale giggled as he ran from one side of the span to another, hiding behind any and everything before scampering on to the next hiding spot; and the trio behind crept cautiously forward, backs to one another with their senses and familiars alert for any danger. They never actually passed through any shadows, for this skyway bridge was far too well lit, and the three patrols they passed as they traversed it all eyed the party with disbelief, and simply asked them to “be safe” as the party approached “Everything Goes Shipping.”

The party entered a dingy, cramped building. While organized in a similar fashion to the other shipping companies, the size and quality of the building was quite wanting. A goblin in a surly mood greeted the party. The party learned that this is a tiny shipping and transportation company, and is new to the market. Previously, they were actually doing ok (there were a lot of things to ship, so were able to make it as a small business), but they’ve been devastated by the disappearances. They’ve lost half of their crews, and have had to pass on contracts to the other shipping companies, as they are unable to fulfill them. The goblin has no time to waste talking anymore, and waves the party away.

Operating on a hunch, Shadowale wants to investigate this place, and Kyllar agrees, eyeing the business name with suspicion. Shadowale finds a secluded spot while the party loiters on the nearby skyway, keeping watch. Despite being distinctly non-stealthy, he is able to climb up and through an open, quintessential warehouse swinging window, and shimmy down a nearby pipe down to some secluded shipping containers. The boxes and addresses mean little, so Shadowale opts to pry open one, but finds nothing illicit or incriminating. Satisfied with his sample size of one crate, he shimmies back up and out through the window, and back to the party, informing them that the company appears to be on the up and up.

While Shadowale has been snooping, the rest of the party has noticed that despite the extra lighting and presence of guards and mercs, there are still a number of shadowy and secluded spots in the area. They opt for the same arrangement, and Gnofulk stumbles out into the night, staggering alone across the bridges and walkways that form the skyways spanning the towers.

The party keeps this up for a long time, Gnofulk playing up his drunkenness; Shadowale stalking a ways behind; the trio observing from further back. After about an hour of dedicated wandering about; stalking; observing, Gnofulk hears something from an alley around a corner: shuffling, accompanied by murmuring and a few quiet groans.

Gripping his axe, and taking draining the last of booze from his flask, Gnofulk paused. “Is ** about to go down?” he asked aloud to the night.

Indeed it was. The plethora of buildings obfuscated the noises, which were far closer than Gnofulk originally thought, and a throng of humanoids burst from the ally, groping and clawing at the gnome, trying but failing to grapple him.

Shadowale shrieked an alarm, and began sprinting  towards the brawl. Turnin, Rhogar and Kyllar began dashing towards it as well, with Kyllar using his familiar to magically harry the throng against which Gnofulk raged.

Gnofulk yelled “fire!” and fought hard against the littlest foes first while the rest of the party tried to come to his aid as quickly as they could. Shadowale took advantage of the distraction, methodically firing his crossbow as his advanced, luckily missing Gnofulk, eventually reaching his companion and starting to slice their foes from behind. Kyllar continued to cast spells through his familiar to weaken the throng, running when he could. Turnin ran and ran, eventually deciding to use some stored Ki to close the gap, hurtling himself through the air, his staff connecting with one of the assailants in a brutal crunch. Rhogar huffed and puffed, eventually reaching the brawl as one solitary zombie remained, whom he easily grappled, wrenching the undead simpleton’s arms back.

“Who sent you? Who are you working for?” Demanded Turnin, but received only mindless groans, flailing arms and the chomping of teeth in reply. Shadowale jumped up, and at the apex of the jump, expertly slit the throat of the undead. The fight was over.

The party examined the zombies, and Kyllar found a magical rod (DieFi™ Rod?) attached to the skull and spine of one of the larger zombies, which he was able to identify as some kind of amplifier for necromantic magic, and is able to... remove it before the City Watch arrives.

The City Watch and a trio of Blademark mercenaries arrive quickly, summoned by the shouts and shrieks. Kyllar’s story of the bait and fight is backed up by Rhogar, and the Watch and sell swords believe the party. The (un, now re)dead match descriptions of some of the missing persons. The party has a lead!

The Blademarks present quickly slink away, as the Watch speaks with the party. Copying the party’s bait tactic, the Guild is able to dispatch another group of marauding zombies before the night is done.

A week passes, and no new missing persons are reported, and things begin to return to normal in Grayshore. A small contingent of lower-level Blademarks will be kept on retainer in the district for a few more weeks, but the City Watch considers the matter closed.

However, due to the party’s efforts speaking with the inhabitants of the area, they know the numbers don’t add up. If the missing persons recently are related, there are still two missing people for each zombie killed that night. While it is possible the necromancer was killed, the party thinks it far more likely that he or she is just lying low for now. After all, the bodies of the other missing persons have yet to turn up…

Eberron Adventure: Fourteenth Session

The party took a week off from adventuring, and enjoyed the hospitality of House Ghallanda’s Ghallanda Hall, made possible by the Sharn City Watch, as a reward for the party’s efforts in subduing a runaway lightning rail train that had been nefariously aimed at Sharn. In between their revels, they began to explore the vast city, each visiting areas that interested them.


Meeting back in Ghallanda Hall for a quick pint, the manager of this wing of the Hall clues the party in to an ongoing cartography effort and also a little tidbit about Sharn. While Sharn is very much a vertical city, at least 1/3 of each tower building is estimated to be left unpopulated (this space is spread throughout the tower). This is generally due to maintenance pipes needing space, though the manager’s contact also thinks that some vacant spaces may house old dwellings, ancient fortresses, and all manner of secret passages. So, there is a small reward to explore and map these sections, where they are found. Should the party stumble upon any secret passages – they should try to map the area, and bring their findings back to House Ghallanda, who will be the middlemen in the arrangement.

The manager leaves the party to their drinks, but quickly returns, a bit shaken. He needs the help of the party, them being adventurers and all. House Ghallanda is expanding into the nascent whiskey industry in Eberron, embarking on a “Whiskey Business.” They went into full production a while ago, were set to officially open and start selling next week… but something has happened down at the distillery. He gives the party directions and rundown of the distillery layout while the party finishes their drinks and readies their weapons.

Sharn doesn’t have much by way of traditional streets for their pedestrians; towers are connected by bridges, and stairways and paths often wind around the outside of tower to let travelers up and down. The party made their way to the nearby tower with the distillery, and as they looked down, they could see a hole in one of the tower walls, and a rickety-looking ramp protruding from the hole, and barrels being rolled down the ramp to shaggy, bestial-looking men in a different tower. Shadowale surmises that the party might be about to face the Daask, a brutal, new arrival to the criminal underworld in Sharn.

The party, consisting of Turnin the human monk, Kyllar the human Wizard, Rhogar the dragonborn fighter, Shadowale the halfling rogue, and Gnofulk the gnome barbarian, quickly made their way to the main entrance of the distillery, but found the door closed. A friendly knock and test push signaled that it was locked. As Rhogar and Gnofulk moved to bash down the door, Kyllar remembered that Shadowale is a roguish halfling, and could probably pick the lock. Reluctantly, Shadowale agreed, and after a few fumbled, succeeded in picking the lock.

The doors swung open, and an array of bestial men, led by a big orc clad in dented plate, faced them, taunting the party that it took them so long to pick the lock.

Turnin Glassjaw stepped forward, quarterstaff twirling in a demonstration of skill. “Where’s the whiskey?” He demanded, followed almost immediately by “What is whiskey anyways? Tell me what whiskey is!” The orc chuckled and spoke in broken common declaring that they have the whiskey now, and they aren’t sharing it.

Turnin decided enough was enough, and vaulted forward attempting to grapple the orc, who was, in all metagamed likelihood, literally twice as strong as Turnin. Failing to grasp the orc effectively, Turnin then decided to head butt the orc; right in his plate-clad head.

Turnin’s actions proved to be too brazen however, as before the rest of the party could intervene, the thugs struck, hitting the monk with a multitude of blows and felling him. The party scoffed at their monk. Gnofulk, Rhogar and Shadowale charged, and traded vicious blows with the brutes while Kyllar hid in cover near the entrance, peeking around the door frame to cast the occasional spell. As the scuffle starts to push deeper into the distillery, Kyllar closes and locks the main behind him.

At the periphery of consciousness, Turnin hears the commanding bark of Rhogar, which allows the monk to rally, drawing him to his feet while shouting nonsense about swinging and hitting. As the orc boss loses ground, he yells for help, and a trio of bestial men emerges from a far section of the floor. Vicious blows are traded, and while the bestial men are slain, Rhogar does not emerge unbloodied.

The party catches their breath, and bandages what minor wounds they can while surveying the level. They had entered through the main entrance, into a long, wide hall with a small gift shop and reception area; to the left is a pair of threshers and grinders for processing the grains, which are now dented and broken (presumably by the Daask thugs); at the far end of the room on the party’s right is a small crank-operated elevator and a staircase going down…

The party flirts with the idea of brazenly using the elevator platform to enter the lower floor in style… but eventually decides to creep along the staircase. Not hearing anything, they descend further, fanning out from the steps when they reach the lower level, talking freely.

They notice whiskey spilled along the floor, and from out of the shadows steps two pairs of bestial men, congratulating each other on their superb work in smashing the vats.

Turnin again steps in front of the rest of the party, attesting that the party has slain the compatriots of these beasts, and if the brutes promise to leave the whiskey (whatever it may be), they are free to leave unharmed. The beasts are confounded by the offer; each pair turns to confer quietly with their partner, gesturing confusingly to Turnin, then the spilled whiskey, then back to the monk.


Having the offer rebuffed due to confusion on the other side, Turnin prepares to strike. Having learned his previous lesson, Turnin Glassjaw lets loose both a quip and a dart against the hairy brutes, but both fail to hit.

Kyllar steps forward, and releases a massive fireball, which due to precision aiming, engulfs both ruined vats and all of the bestial men in a huge gout of devastating flame. While no foes were killed outright and the liquid failed to ignite, all the foes are very badly burned, and the party sets about finishing them off as they stagger about. Gnofulk charges in, ending a pair beasts with a pair of quick swings of his magical axe; Shadowale mercilessly cuts one down, and Turnin skips forward, swinging his staff in a vicious uppercut, catching the last beast in the chin, lifting him off his feet and into the wreckage of a wounded vat, where the brute’s cranial horns catch on the metal. Turnin shouts something about striking.

The party investigates the rest of the floor, finding a trail of destruction and more spilled whiskey in the various stations of the distillation process. Soon they come to another pair of doors, which open freely, revealing dozens of empty racks, and a familiar-looking hole and ramp. After a very quick backtrack by Shadowale to make sure the crank elevator worked, the party walks down the ramp and into the neighboring tower.

The ramp leads down into a room and ends in a large pile of rags and debris, presumably used to cushion the barrels as then ended their trip. As the party enters this space, they see a cohort of goblins cackling and rolling a barrel away, and two pairs of bestial men guarding the room’s exits. The party moves to strike.

Kyllar casts a powerful Sleep spell on the pair of beasts to the right of the party, but barely able to make one drowsy enough to curl up and take a nap. The rest of the party focuses on the left pair, advancing and trading powerful strikes. A previously unseen door opens, and an orc steps out, demanding to know what all the racket is about. Kyllar ends the non-sleeper to their right, and the party quickly surrounds and overwhelms the orc. As Gnofulk’s axe cleaves the orc, he notices a small pouch tied to the belt, and gestures toward it. Shadowale snatches up the pouch quickly and greedily, and finds a labeled potion of Feather Fall. Not being booze or coin or good loot, Shadowale quickly becomes disinterested and tosses the potion over his shoulder, where it is caught by Gnofulk.

As the party begins to debate which path to take to follow the whiskey, Shadowale remembers the sleeping beast man, and drags him more into the center of the room, declaring that he needs to practice “assassination”. Against all manner of ethical arguments Shadowale plunges the Derpa-Dirk deep into the beast man’s chest-

-and there is a shriek from the magical blade and a gout of flame as the beast man’s body is incinerated, replaced by a fully awake fiery Efreet, who howls unintelligibly and releases gouts of blue flames as he is released into this plane of existence.

Shadowale is thoroughly surprised and wounded, but the party quickly regains their composure and moves to surround and slay the flaming djinn, who continues to howl unintelligibly for a few more seconds before winking out of existence in a burning explosion. Badly singed, the party looks around, curses the dirk, and tries to catch up with the stolen whiskey, traversing some cramped hallways…

One path from the ramp room leads through a few other utility rooms and eventually to a narrow, essentially hidden exit, which would lead the party out onto one of this tower’s walkways. The other path is found to lead to another group of utility rooms, one of which has another hole in the wall, leading to a sheer drop outside. The party deduces that the whiskey is gone; either through liberal uses of Feather Fall potions or simply rolled/carried out into the bustling city skyways. Crestfallen at the thought of losing good whiskey, the party pushes around the corpses of the brutes, and is able to determine that Shadowale’s hunch was right; the thugs have etchings on their armor or tattoos on their persons, displaying their allegiance to the Daask criminal organization.


As the party treks back through the distillery, the Sharn City Watch arrives with a few representatives of House Ghallanda. The latter are able to convince the Watch that the party was indeed sent by the House itself, and are not actually the perpetrators themselves. While all the barrels of both whiskies (“Rye Not” and “Bour-bon Voyage”) are still gone, the brutes didn’t steal any of the trade secrets on distillation, and Ghallanda might be able to save their whiskey business venture in the future. Additionally, the party proved to themselves that secret places do exist in Sharn, and they can provide significant advantages...