Eberron Adventure: Twenty-Third Session

The party, consisting of Gnofulk the gnome barbarian, Kyllar the human wizard (with his kobold manservant Kaz), Shadowale the halfling rogue, and Rhogar the dragonborn fighter, had been exploring a secret network of tunnels in the ancient foundations of Sharn, hoping to find some clue to the activities of the Daask gangsters.

Up ahead, the party heard voices. Kyllar cast Comprehend Languages, and through the ears of his familiar, carried by the stealthy rogue, was able to discern that a woman of authority was making preparations. Not liking their odds against this unknown boss lady on her home turf, the party beat a hasty retreat, abandoning their exploration of this branch of the tunnels entirely.

So, party withdrew, back through the small cavern and the bridge over the lava, and back through the winding tunnels, to the original four path intersection. The had originally entered from the eastern path, and had just come from the southern path, so the party continued their plan of “going left” and took the tunnel path to the west, opposite the original entrance.

The party caught a brief waft of cool air as they entered the tunnel – this deep in the lava-filled Cogs, that was unusual. The party decided to advance at a cautious, steady pace; with a torch-wielding Turnin as rear guard, and with the stealthy Shadowale as vanguard, attempting to scout.

Unfortunately, the halfling had a wandering mind. Although he was excelling at remaining quiet and unnoticed, he wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings, and accidently bumped into two somethings, and quickly discerned it was an orc male and a tiefling female, leading a patrol. Battle was joined between these two equally surprised groups.

A bit startled, Gnofulk didn’t even have time to get angry before he started swinging the orc, and Kyllar supported the gnome’s efforts with a Firebolt.

Turnin, however, entirely misread the situation, and holding his staff in the crook of his arm while brandishing the torch, ran towards the female tiefling, who had drawn her blades. Turnin’s other arm was outstretched, and as he approached, he started declaring that he would save her from these hairy brutes and carry her away to saftey.

As his fingers brushed her arm, Turnin found himself hellishly rebuked, and jumped back from the tiefling’s burning flames. Realizing that she may actually be part of the Daask and not a prisoner, he quickly armed his staff and took a swing at her.

She took the hit, and again rebuffed Turnin, this time with a multitude of slashes from her poisoned blades, which laid low the doltish but well-intentioned monk. The orc likewise rebuffed the gnome, countering with swings of his own massive axe.

Shadowale, caught in the middle of the action but still unnoticed, slashed viciously at the orc, and Rhogar lept into the fray, swinging mightily to protect the downed monk.

By now, the rest of the Daask patrol had wizened up to the fact that they were under attack. Two satyr brutes moved up to slash viciously at the gnome; one waded into the melee to swing at the newly-noticed Shadowale and the last one bolted for Kyllar, landing a wicked blow against the wizard, despite some reactionary magical protection.

Bleeding, Gnofulk began to properly rage, swinging again and again at the orc and felling him; also bleeding, Kyllar shrieked in pain and amazement, completely unused to physical harm and not liking this experience at all. Kaz the kobold, scurried into the fray behind Rhogar, and taking one of Kyllar’s homebrewed healing potions, poured it down Turnin’s throat before scurrying away. Coming to, but still weak, the monk retreated, following the kobold out of the melee.

The tiefling stabbed at Rhogar, her poisoned blades finding purchase on the dragonborn’s scaly hide, but failing to truly affect the hulking fighter. Noticing her distraction, Shadowale lashed out with his blades, and slew her. Hearing the panicked cries of the feeble wizard, and having no noteworthy enemies before him, Rhogar turned and roared, running at the satyr attacking Kyllar.

The satyrs hack back at the party in a blind bloodlust, oblivious to their lack of commanders, and blows are landed upon Gnofulk, Shadowale and Kyllar’s savior, Rhogar.

Turnin, huddling near Kaz, opens his infrequently used book of clerical verses from the Sealers of the Stone Maw, and heals himself with a chant from a bookmarked page. After this quick breather, he returns to the fight.

The party outlasts the satyrs, weathering their strikes and responding in kind, including several critically-struck dagger stabs with Shadowale’s off-hand. The halfling seemed to be using the beasts for simple practice and showing off his knife skills to the party…

Having dispatched this patrol, the party pats down the bodies, while Kyllar loudly complains at being physically drawn into the fight, and injured. Not finding a good shield among the corpses, he tries bartering with Rhogar for his… but to no avail. All the Daask weapons are mundane, uninteresting, and in ill repair… save for the poisoned blades of the tiefling, which along with a small vial of the poison, are appropriated by Shadowale.

The party decides to press on, and they soon find the tunnel pathway curving and winding down.. soon the tunnel branches off, and the party cautiously explores the detour, from which the sounds of running water and a cooler breeze is emanating. Gnofulk creeps forward, and discovers an exit. He beckons the rest of the party closer, and unusually, Turnin is the one to start piecing things together, noticing that there are watermarks on the rocks nearby, and that at certain times, this path and tunnel could easily be used to enter Sharn secretly from the Dagger River.

Without mountaineering gear, this exit means nothing to the party, and they return to the tunnel complex, and continue their journey down…

They soon find another branching section, and Kyllar’s conjured owl familiar scouts it; and finds it to be another secret entrance, this time right at the current level of the Dagger River. Recent tracks are noticed by Kyllar, some small, some medium, some large, and some with webbed feet.
The party thinks on this, but cannot deduce what races the tracks belong to, or whether they were coming or going, and return to the descending path.

After a few more winding spirals, they reach the bottom, and the tunnel opens to a larger tunnel. A small cart sits at the entrance to this larger tunnel on a simple metal track, while a second empty track lays nearby. Both slope down, and off into the distance. Gnofulk, outlander extraordinaire deduces that this tunnel would appear to span directly under the Dagger River itself… and notices that they’ve spent nearly the entire day exploring.

The party hesitate for a moment, then pile into the cart, with Kyllar conjuring a series of magical crash belts for each party member. Realizing they have no way to propel themselves, the party begins to scoot and shift in unison, and eventually, the cart inches forward, and gravity soon takes over.

The ride, illuminated by Turnin’s still burning torch, is uneventful. After a few hundred feet, the tunnel bottoms out, and begins to rise. The party’s momentum carries them forward though, and over to the other side of the “chunnel.”  They pile out of the cart, and begin to work their way up through a new, rising passageway. After a few sweeping turns, they emerge to fresh air; the path has taken them somewhat above ground. This larger exit is also obscured; surrounded by similar rocky cliffs, but also shrubbery, and a few trees.

Kyllar and Gnofulk put their heads together, and think they could deduce where this place is later on. Turnin wonders aloud if this is the kind of secret passages that House Ghallanda might have interest in… and the party quickly reflects that the answer should be a resounding YES, as the party had to break through a wall to find this network of secret tunnels and spaces. This knowledge of secret spaces will be in high demand.

Satisfied with their find, but unable to depart this way, the party returns to the tunnels, and uneventfully starts backtracking, eventually finding themselves again at that first intersection. Now, even more injured, the party pass on returning to face the boss lady in the south, and instead opt to take the last available tunnel passage, heading north.

After a few twists and turns, they find themselves at a locked door. Eager to redeem himself, Shadowale ambles forth, and hiding his work from the party, eventually manages to unlock the door after only breaking a handful of lock picks.

Gnofulk offers himself up to scout the room, pushing open the door and sticking his head in. Fortunately, the room is empty, and not trapped. It contains a large cache of weapons, which the party gleefully descend upon.

At Turnin’s insistence, Kyllar readies a Detect Magic spell… and discovers a small, magical article of clothing hanging on a peg on the wall, hidden among a number of cloaks. Kyllar casts another spell, determining that this special bandana will boost a wearer’s intelligence. After toying with the idea of adorning his kobold with it, Kyllar decides that Turnin could make better use of it. A sentiment Turnin is unoffended by-

-until he puts on the bandana, at which point the inferences of the gift dawn on the monk. With his (slightly) boosted reasoning abilities, however, Turnin’s proverbial feathers are quickly unruffled, as the bandana, while simple in design… is pretty awesome. The monk can’t decide how to wear it though. And the monk also starts to get a sinking feeling that his investment in “arms dealing” may not be what he thought it was…

As Turnin tries out the bandana as a headband, a kind of skullcap, a scarf, a blind… the rest of the party rearms. Better-than-average looking items start finding their way into the Bag of Holding, and Kyllar finds a well-balanced goblin axe for Grrrrrrra, the orc child who had answered the questions of the party prior back in the Cogs. Gnofulk picks up a few more javelins, and Rhogar obtains some goblin short swords to use as throwing daggers, over his two hand axes.

With Turnin dressed to the nines, and the rest of the party rearmed, the party exits, with Gnofulk loudly appreciating and commenting on all the sharp new things the party has acquired. A short ways ahead, a door opens, and an orc’s head peers out into the hallway to see what the commotion is.

With a surprised grunt, the orc starts growling orders and shuts the door, and the party surrounds the doorway.

Shadowale grabs the doorknob, hanging off it. Rhogar knocks, and the door swings inward, as a quartet of arrows fly out of the room, one narrowly missing Shadowale, and only one striking Rhogar due to his magical arrow-catching shield. A loud curse bursts from Shadowale, who drops from the doorknob to the floor and scampers away to safety. As Rhogar and Gnofulk move to secure the door, more arrows are loosed. The orc is rallying the Daask here with small satyr archers along the far wall, himself by the door, and a group of satyr brutes waiting eagerly to slice anyone foolish enough to enter the room.

Turnin, again remembering the invocations from the tome of the Sealers of the Stone Maw, approaches Rhogar from behind, and with a hand on Rhogar’s shoulder and a word of encouragement, blesses the fighter with a prayer of Rocky Resilience, which will weaken the blows struck against fighter. Shadowale, unable to enter the fray without extreme hazard to himself, decides to forego this fight and entertain himself. Following Turnin’s example, Shadowale places a hand on Rhogar’s thigh, and recites a dirty halfling limerick. Rhogar isn’t fooled, and understands perfectly well that the halfling is not helping.

Kyllar approaches Gnofulk from behind, and launches a fireball over the gnome’s head into the center of the room. Such a strike was apparently unexpected, a momentary conflagration erupts. When the flames die down a few seconds later, the archers lay dead; the brutes are badly burned, and the orc’s armor is ruined with scorch marks.

Realizing their trap will not be sprung, the burned satyr brutes and their orc commander move to shut the door, in a last ditch effort at a modicum of safety from the rampaging party…

Gnofulk is quick to act though, and literally gets his foot in the door. Shadowale too, seeing a moment to help, fires an arrow with a hefty head into the doorframe in an attempt to prevent it from closing.

Rhogar pushes forward, forcing the door open against the feeble resistance offered by the burned Daask gangsters, and the party begins to flood in. Gnofulk follows the dragonborn in, swinging with his magical axe and ending the life of one satyr brute, and Turnin is close behind, the monk bounding into the thick of the brutes. Turnin chants and channels Ki as he jumps into a whirling tornado kick, the deadly feet breaking through the skulls of both remaining brutes, and denting the orc’s scorched armor before the monk lands.

Kyllar, still angry about bleeding his own blood, storms into the room behind Turnin, and as the monk lands, throws a Fire Bolt into the orc’s surprised stupid face, ending him.

The party surveys the room, and notices a number of now charred bunk beds. Being quite late in the evening now, the party long for a respite from adventuring and fighting. Even slightly smoldering, the remains of the beds are calling to the explorers… but will they be able to sneak in a moment of rest??

Eberron Adventure: Twenty-Second Session

Turnin, the human monk, awoke to a vile, almost Sulphur-like smell in his room in Ghallanda Hall. The smell was emanating from a nearby puddle, and the Kaz the Kobold was chattering softly pacing about the room. Grumbling, Turnin shooed the scaly companion out for a moment, got dressed, and went to find someone from whom he could request a thorough scrubbing for his room.

Groggily, the monk grabbed a pastry as he departed the inn with the ornery kobold – the honest party banker was tired after a few days of running around Sharn looking for things called “investments” on which to spend the party’s hard-earned coin. Despite it being almost noon, the duo sleepily wandered aimlessly for a while before Turnin noticed a note tied around the kobold’s neck. Opening the note, he discovered that the rest of the party had headed back down to the Cogs for some investigative business, and that he should be wary around Kazgaroth, who has been acting out lately. Signed, Kyllar. The duo turns a corner and starts making their way down towards the foundations of the City of Towers.

They wind their way through the Cogs, which over the last few days, has returned to some semblance of normalcy. The two are a peculiar sight, and are quickly recognized, and many of the Cogsfolk thank them and point them in the direction the party traveled.

Several resounding booms are heard as Turnin and Kaz wind their way through the Daask neighborhood. They walk through the grubby cafeteria, and into the “art gallery” just in time for Kyllar’s last “Shatter” spell to uh… shatter the false wall behind the spacious desk.

As the dust motes drift down, cooler air wafts out from the corridor, cutting through some of the oppressive heat from all the lava down in the Cogs. The party, consisting of Rhogar the dragonborn paladin, Shadowale the halfling rogue, Gnofulk the gnome barbarian and Kyllar the human wizard, start discussing their next move. Without announcing his arrival and without breaking pace, Turnin walks past the party and down into the corridor.

However it is far too dark to go far, and he quickly rejoins the party in the gallery and is brought up to speed as torches are readied. Turnin isn’t sure that the statues are real people, but concedes that it is odd that one would wear the insignia of a member of the city watch. Or that someone would take the time to shape the body of a beaten gnome or cowering orcling. But what do they know? They’re not artists or art critics, they are adventurers! The readied torches are lit, and the party is off; eagle-eyed Gnofulk leading the way down the winding corridor.

The party notices (and is surprised to see) that the corridor is rather wide and stout, and supported with actual brickwork – this is no haphazardly dug network. The main tunnel is very long, and minutes pass as the party makes their way down it, taking time to try and methodically explore other tunnels as paths start branching off from the main line. Several dead ends are discovered, and Shadowale, wary of “impediments” as the party destroyed a false wall to find these tunnels, investigates each one with a swift kick from a hairy halfling foot… but finds that these are very solid obstructions; cave-ins from long ago.

One of these branching tunnels doesn’t lead to a dead end, but to an old looming door. Most of the party stumbles into a halt around the corner, but Kyllar approaches and brazenly twists the knob and declares that is open and not trapped. Dark stares are thrown in the wizard’s direction.

The rest of the party approaches, the door, extinguishes their torches, and Gnofulk throws open the door… and finds naught but a treasure chest before him. Torches are re-lit, and Gnofulk reaches to throw open the lid-

-but quickly opens on its own, showing a glimpse of jewels and teeth. Startled, Gnofulk snatches his hand back as the chest snaps, narrowly missing the first bite, but getting a good scratch in with a second lunge. The party dispatches the treasure chest before Turnin can even approach, and the monk, who was bringing up the rear of the formation, wonders what all the fuss is about.

Kyllar is befuddled by the scene and can only mutter something in amazement about how aggressive the treasure chests was. If this is the norm, Kyllar may be gaining a newfound respect for pirates. A Mage Hand is conjured, but despite poking around the innards, the treasure that had gleamed a few moments before is nowhere to be found in the guts.

Undaunted, the party regroups and makes their way back to the main corridor. After a few more kinks and twists… they discover that it has suffered a cave in too. However.. there is something different about this obstruction. Whereas the other obstructions were dense and dusty, with the ends of the walkable spaces contorted under an immense weight, the corridor walls seem intact. The deft halfling foot lashes out again, and discovers that dirt here is indeed fresh.

The party pokes around the dirt and rubble pile blocking their path, which appears to be transplanted into the corridor. Kyllar conjures a shovel, and hands it to his kobold manservant, gesturing towards the dirt pile. The kobold literally digs in as the party loiters – I mean strategizes.

The pleasant chat is disrupted by a resounding, thunderous boom, which blasts most of the dirt obstruction away, but also bloodies and throws the unsuspecting kobold over 20 feet behind the party. On instinct, the party tries to take cover in the corridor, pressing themselves against walls, readying their weapons and looking quickly and intently about them. As the echoes bouncing deeper within the tunnel network slowly lose their force, the party relaxes, and the kobold is tended to. Kyllar finds him dazed, but alright. The party regroups, and cautiously delves further.

They soon reached an intersection of sorts, where their tunnel met three others. The party opts to go left, and travel down another long, winding corridor, and pass two stubby dead end corridors, as they start to realize that it is getting warmer. Up ahead the corridor is lit with faint red glow from magma, and the party decide to extinguish their torches and creep up.

They find a dimly lit cavernous room; their tunnel becoming a path, then descending down and becoming a bridge to span the lava flow before boring back into the rocky walls as a tunnel. Marching out of this other tunnel is an 8-strong patrol of assorted Daask thugs. The party retreat, and opt to hide in the nearest dead-end corridor.

Kyllar conjures a new pile of rubble a few feet out from the obstruction and the party hides. Poking two fingers into his illusionary wall, he makes some peep holes… but realizes he cannot see in the dark, and leads them down to gnome eye-level.

Holding their breath, the party anxiously waits until Gnofulk gives the all clear. A small flame is conjured behind the illusionary wall, and in pantomime, the party argue about what to do: either avoid the patrol and press on, or circle back and try to take the patrol by surprise.

Rhogar, pounding his fist into his palm, convinces the party to try and take out the patrol. The conjured flame is snuffed out, and the party stealthy moves out to stalk their prey, led by the gnome and halfling.

The floors are clear of obstructions, and those with darkvision lead the two human members through the dark without incident, and they begin to close the gap. Before they can strike, however, Gnofulk absentmindedly fumbled his axe, and clatters to the ground. Not the “GO!” signal he was expecting, Shadowale hesitates, and the patrol – all with darkvision – are able to react to the presence of the party.

The two small satyr bowmen fire their shots; one of them pricking Gnofulk, who is just seething with rage. The four satyr-like brutes in the rear scramble up towards the party, spreading across the hall while the two orcs take up position behind the hairy, bestial wall, while growling orders and readying their weapons.

The party begins to charge in the darkness, closing the gap. Gnofulk is first, charging along the right side of the wall, but he is apparently still rattled by his buttery fingers, and misses both his mighty swings. Shadowale decides he doesn’t want to get into the fray, and haphazardly draws and fires his crossbow, narrowly missing Gnofulk, but endangering no one else. Rhogar and Kyllar charge up to the hairy wall, Rhogar breathing fire and burning the two satyr brutes in the middle of the line as well as the two orcs behind them; and Kyllar casts Thunderwave, tossing one brute back and off against the orc, and ending up prone. Poor Turnin, still blind in the darkness, ignites his torch and run up to assess the situation.

The battle now joined, the brutes slash with simple, sharp blades while the orcs move up to plug the gap and press the attack against Rhogar with their axes and maces. The satyr bowmen fire again, only managing to injure the brute fighting Gnofulk, who after scoring a hit against the raging gnome, takes a brutal hack in return. Shadowale abandons his crossbow and scurries over to the far left of the hall, drawing his blades and viciously slaying the brute. Having took the brunt of the Daask counter attack, Rhogar growls and strikes back, finding a much needed second wind to focus his mind. Dangerously close but not actually engaged in the fighting, Kyllar is able to weave a Firebolt through the ranks, injuring one of the brutes, while Turnin, having assessed the situation with a discerning eye, wades into the fighting and lands a critical killing blow with his staff while waving the torch menacingly at the hairy brutes.

Losing ground, the orcs growl an order incomprehensible and the satyr bowmen make an expeditious retreat while the rest of the Daask hack against the party, spilling blood from everyone but Kyllar, who was hiding behind Turnin, and Kaz the kobold, who was hiding behind Kyllar.

Gnofulk and Shadowale slay another brute each, with Gnofulk swinging normally while Shadowale attempted to use his smaller stature to slice at the femoral artery and… while he never quite found it, did manage to his a few other things south of the belt. Ever the talkative one, Turnin stepped forth to interrogate an orc, but received an unintelligible snarl in reply. In his own rebuttal, Turnin swings, but misses the orc’s head twice.. then resorts to Shadowale-inspired “dirty fighting.” (…Or, if you remember back to session one, “uh.. just saying hello”.)

Having the advantage in numbers, now the fight began to grind down. Blood continued to be spilled on both sides, though the Daask were getting the worse of it now. The enemy line broken, Shadowale springs off a wall to land near the last orc’s feet and land more ignoble strikes while Gnofulk circled around and struck from behind. At death’s door, the orc looked upon Rhogar with pleading eyes, and the dragonborn mercifully smote the armored, green-skinned gangster.

The party staunches their wounds, and catches their breath. The party hears nothing in response to the scuffle, and considers chasing after the bowmen… however don’t think they’ve explored the tunnels well enough yet to even guess where they might be retreating to. They decide to press on. Leaving the bodies, they make their way back to the cavernous room, down to and over the bridge, and into the other tunnel. A few winds in, the distinct sounds on conversation can be heard up ahead.

Kyllar signals for the party to stop, conjuring his familiar and casting Comprehend Languages. Shadowale grabs the familiar and stealthily moves up and around the corner.

Via the senses of the familiar, Kyllar hears a slightly raspy woman’s voice speak of “securing the goods” and “preparing to withdraw for now if the patrols cannot secure the tunnels or find what set off the Thunderwave trap.” Deeper, more growly, masculine voices reply curtly, assuring her that everything will be seen to.

Shadowale creeps back, and Kyllar relates the words to the party. Shadowale relates the path ahead; the tunnel opens up into a pit-like hole, with another tunnel across the way. A second level appears to circle the pit, and it is from here that the voices came.

Injured and uncertain, the party withdraw to discuss their options….