Eberron Adventure: Thirty-Second Session

So there they were…

Exhausted. As dawn broke, the massive party trudged back over the  bridges spanning Sharn’s innumerable towers to Ghallanda Hall, barely making it into the warm common rooms before collapsing into plush chairs by the hearth. The next day was spent recuperating and drying out. The following morning, the massive party split. Shadowale and Comfort has business to discuss, which drew the interest of Turnin and Gnofulk.

The remaining group, consisting of the human wizard Kyllar, the gnome druid Whudyalookadah, the elf cleric Professor Thorntongue, and the dragonborn fighter Rhogar, chatted about what they should do next. Kyllar was very, very keen to investigate the already investigated den of Naman Fireslinger, a fire-liking wizard thug whose death had led some of the party to the realization that Zyn had been committing the grisly murders, and set them all on the path to a showdown with their former party member, which had just been resolved by the fight in the Fey Wild not even two days ago.

Kyllar was also very interested in tracking down the Wizened, who had stolen the party’s Bag of Holding, which Kyllar was still very sore over. Rhogar was also interested in finding the thieving monks, and Professor Thorntongue, who had originally helped the party find out the general religious information on them, was also game… but the newcomer, Whudyalookadah, was completely lost, and at his insistence, the trio brought the gnome up to speed in a very lengthy recap, covering much of the party’s escapades in Sharn, from the massacres of the clerics, to the framed Daask, to the failed crusade of Steve Brighthammer von Carlsburg Jr., to the disappearances in Greyflood, to the urchins and merfolk… to an “arms” dealer, to Professor Thorntongue and her help in the libraries and to the current situation.

While not grasping all the details, the irreverent gnome Whudyalookadah is sufficiently intrigued to join in this new hunt against the Wizened.

But the hunt will need to wait a bit. After a hearty breakfast, the party heads out, Kyllar gleefully leading the way not towards any of the possible leads on the Wizened, but towards Naman Fireslinger’s apartment, in the hopes of finding the dead wizard’s spellbook.

While still early in the morning, it was already immensely hot. The massive thunderstorm from a few days prior had evidently heralded hot, cloudless days to come. The party sweated as they made their way horizontally across Sharn, from one section of the Middle City to another, along walkways winding around towers and large bridges between them. Their path bores through a tower, bisecting it, and the party takes a few turns along the hallway “avenues,” and soon arrives Naman Fireslinger’s apartment.

The door, busted in by Zyn a few days ago, still sits against in interior wall, sundered, and with a white chalky outline of the murdered sentry among the splinters. Red ribbons of the City Watch crisscross the doorway; the Watch has been here.

Undeterred, Kyllar leads the group inside after stretching the ribbons a bit to make way. He marches ahead, into the wizard’s room, but finds nothing but empty furniture. In the room to the left, empty bunkbeds are found. In the room to the right, the “conference room” with the large table, they see the three other white outlines of those murdered by Zyn, but find no loot in the charred and smudged room.

Frustrated, the group decides to visit Madam Inquisitive, the substitute investigator for the City Watch, who had helped the party track down Zyn a few days ago. She had been investigating the grisly murders a bit; perhaps she has the items not already swiped by Shadowale, Comfort and Gnofulk when they explored the scene originally. Plus, she did help them find Zyn. Perhaps she could help the group find some of the Wizened?

The party again moves laterally though the city, walking along more walkways and bridges toward Tower 4, the precinct where the Madam Inquisitive is subbing. They’ve been here several times in the past week, and so are waved on through; past the desks of the beat cops, and into the office of the Madam Inquisitive, who is still working feverishly.

Without real pleasantries, Kyllar starts pressing on the personal effects of Naman Fireslinger, and any books he may had had on his person when the City Watch seized the items in the apartment-

-but the Madam Inquisitive deflects his urgent questions momentarily. Wasn’t the party in here not 48 hours ago? Didn’t they leave to find this murderer Zyn? You can’t just walk in here and ask questions. How did that whole showdown with your friend go?

The party recounts the story, but very poorly, and not at all convincing. However, the Madam Inquisitive knows from prior experience that words are not the party’s strong suit, and believes that the murders are indeed over.

No legit books were recovered from the apartment; only a few notebooks and scraps of paper outlining the basic schemes the wizard’s group was to undertake. As a token of her appreciation though, for bringing an end to Zyn’s murder spree, she offers up the only worthwhile effect of Naman Fireslinger; a wand. It looks dry and cracked, like a burnt twig, but the wand is not brittle and is surprisingly inert and cool to the touch. Professor Thorntongue readies her notes and beings a ritual that will identify the item as a +1 wand, while the rest of the party moves into discussion on the Wizened.

With both Whudyalookadah and Madam Inquisitive interrupting for clarification, Rhogar and Kyllar retell the party’s dealings with the Wizened, stressing their desire to stop these monks… for the public good.

Unfortunately, operating in a different area in Sharn than Grayflood, the Madam Inquisitive has not heard the rumors of these zombie caches, no knows anything about the DieFi rods, other than they sound rather unusual for necromancy.

Rhogar and Kyllar float the idea of using the Inquisitive’s methods for tracking Zyn to track the monks… but unfortunately that seems unlikely. The Contraption of Find Person is generally quite useless. The search criteria are minimal, and the range is pretty abysmal. It was pure luck that Zyn was both a drow (rare in Sharn) and nearby that it even worked at all.

The group had gone over and considered each encounter with the Wizened, and had dismissed each as a dead end, and were desperate. Could they use the Contraption to ping for uses of necromancy?

The Madam Inquisitive suggests that they focus on actual investigative work (following up those leads with two new sets of eyes and skills), but the group insists. She readies the Contraption, and after a half hour, the milky globe displays a single, faint red dot; detecting some residual necromantic magic in Sharn… from the position in the globe, she thinks that this is the mortuary run by Gertrude.

The party is immediately suspicious, and ignores the possible explanations of the Inquisitive, bids her good day, and marches toward the Gertrude’s mortuary… passing under the thaumaturgical neon sign, past the empty lobby and reception desk, and back into the old woman’s workspace. She waves them over as they enter, and she pushes the slab holding the body of Naman Fireslinger into the magically chilled wall slot.

Again without much tact, most of the party immediately starts to press her on what she knows of necromancy. She reminds them that she is an immigrant from Karrnath, on the north east of the continent, where necromantic magic is common and welcomed in daily life. Even with her meager abilities, some spells can help her deduce how her subject died and the school of magic is quite helpful to someone in her position. This aspect of her job hasn’t come up much recently, since the bodies have desecrated in such ways.

…but not Naman Fireslinger! Zyn was interrupted, and didn’t have time to flay the wizard’s face. While the rest of the part had been chatting up the old mortician, Professor Thorntongue had slinked away, and rolled out the wizard from the wall, readied her notes and had begun readying a Speak with the Dead spell.

Against the objections of Gertrude (decency) and Kyllar (practicality; the guy didn’t have any dealings with the Wizened), the spell is allowed to complete. As the five questions are posited to the dead wizard, Whudyalookadah is just messing with the body. Dangling things around its unaware face, poking it, and standing atop the chest of the deceased, the tiny gnome eventually strikes a pose like a victorious mountain-climber. Death is no excuse not to have fun.

With another avenue to wizardy goodness, Kyllar pounces, and asked the pyromancer what the heck happened to his spell book? “Stolen,” the corpse replies. Perhaps the scrolls recovered by Comfort were his early attempts to re-create the book? Rhogar attempts to cast a wide net with the next question, and asks if the pyromancer has had any dealings with anyone in orange? “No.” Kyllar, still all about the spell book asks who stole it. “A drunk halfling dressed in black,” rasps the corpse. Shadowale? Muses the party. The fourth and fifth questions are also pretty useless, with the corpse telling the party that he was working with the 3 thugs… Whom the part deduces were the ones killed in the apartment with him. At least that spell book may still be out there…

Fireslinger is again deposited into the wall, and Gertrude shrugs and gestures to the corpse. See? Necromantic magic can be really helpful when dealing with corpses. The party asks more about Gertrude and necromancy and Sharn.

As the rods are described, Gertrude asserts that that is not “normal” necromancy as she knows it, and as the discussion progresses, two options present themselves.

The first is visiting House Sivis in Upper Sharn, a House primarily of gnomes who specialize in magical communication; the choice championed by Kyllar.

The second is traveling to the City of the Dead, just northeast of Sharn; a repository not only for bodies, but also for knowledge about these things. Everyone else thinks this sounds by far more exciting, and the wizard is outvoted.

It would be a long walk through the rocky switchbacks to reach the City of the Dead, nestled in the crags outside the city proper, but fortunately Rhogar has the spare keys to his friend’s air skiff, and the party is soon flying gently between Sharn’s towers; gliding out towards the cliffs.

Not large enough to hold an elemental to power it, the skiff is instead shaped like a rickety boat, with enchantments along the bottom hull for flight, and in the rear for thrust. With Rhogar manning the controls, the rest of the party takes turns peddling to propel the skiff forward towards their destination.

The view is impressive. With the towers looming behind them, the party gazes at the vistas before them; the Dagger River and its rocky banks on the left, and the rolling farmlands beyond the plateaus ahead and to their right. While still terrified of heights, Rhogar is able to keep a lid on his anxiety, and deftly lands the skiff; despite the fear, or maybe perhaps because of it, the dragonborn appears be a natural pilot; cautious but proficient.

With a safe landing, the party exits the vehicle, stretches their legs, and debates about where to go first, having surveyed the immediate area around them from the air…

From their landing spot, the party heads south, towards that conspicuous-looking structure. A large roof peaking in stone and ending in clay shingles is supported by numerous columns; the interior open to the air. Atop the stone foundation is a lengthy slab of stone, there is a stone slab coffin; the likeness of a soldier – sword and all – carved atop his final resting place.

Reading the memorial plaque, the party is able to deduce that this mausoleum is 1500 years old; and commemorates a soldier who died in the War of the Mark… a war when the 12 Dragonmarked Houses, still in their infancy as organizations, united against House Tarkanan and besieged those with Aberrant Dragonmarks in Sharn. Rather than be taken alive, Lord Tarkanan and the Lady of the Plagues sundered ancient and low-lying Sharn, breaking the hovels with devastating earthquakes and suicidal plagues, and burying their dreams of a 13^th House and exploring the aberrant dragonmarks in more detail.

Reflecting on the grim history of the area, and wondering what evil rubble may still linger beneath the massive towers of the city in which they now reside… the party walks north, wandering among the graves there. Most of the headstones here are haphazardly placed, and quite old. Burial has slowly fallen out of fashion the last thousand years, replaced with cremation. Still the dirt is packed down solid and the lawn is well maintained.

The party then venture to this odd triangular obelisk standing in the middle of this cluster of headstones. Bobbing above the pinnacle is a levitating and opaque octahedron, from which radiates a faint glow, bathing all the graves in soft white light. As the group walks among the graves, they read, and realize that this is a newly constructed memorial for officers from Sharn who died in the Last War… the 100-year long continent-spanning conflict that ended only a previous few years ago. The party also realize that the graves are all oriented to the obelisk, the names of the perpetually illuminated in the comforting light, and that their final resting places are organized by the plateau district in which they last lived. Seeking out a few names of his fallen comrades, Rhogar pauses to pay his respects.

Solemnly, the party hikes up to this odd white stone pillar, shaped to resemble a single unbroken piece of polished stone, and stoically watching over the grounds. Roughly 6 stories high, the party begins to walk around the edge looking for any clue to its purpose, and any possible means of ingress, if it is a tower. As they wander towards the eastern side of the pillar however, a mob of skeletons stumble forth from the tree line about 60 feet away, rusty axes and swords swinging back and forth with each lurching step as they move towards the pillar. Three groups seem to be moving roughly in sync, with two singular skeletons marching along the flanks of the host.

Professor Thorntongue is first to react, and calls forth a Sacred Flame to lob at the center group of skeletons, and Kyllar flings a Firebolt at them as well. Both burning magical projectiles land among the skeletons, while the old bones are singed, Whudyalookadah approaches an unsuspecting Rhogar from behind. The gnome’s hands disappear beneath the fighter’s armor and near the base of the Dragonborn’s tail, and moments later Rhogar’s scales take on a somewhat ashen hue and look to be far more durable than before.

The cleric and wizard are exposed, and driven onward by infernal magics, the skeleton horde closes the distance. While Rhogar moves to interdict, he cannot interpose himself between the horde and his comrades, and a messy battle line begins to unfold.

Not as sturdy as a typical cleric, Professor Thorntongue attempts to withdraw to safety, but her elven feet are not quick enough, and one of the rusty blades slashes her as she moves. Lacking even modest protection, Kyllar doesn’t wish to risk be cut down running away, and he generates a Thunderwave, and while the center holds, the wings of the skeleton formation are pushed back. Whudyalookadah looks to aid the group, and casts Faerie Fire against as much of the opposition as the gnome can. The center cohort, which has taken a significant beating so far and whose bones are starting to grind out dust, and southern cohort begin to faintly glow.

The respite from the rattling onslaught is momentary however, and the skeletons quickly regroup and advance again, surrounding the party (save for Whudyalookadah) on three sides. Rhogar intervenes, striking at one of the solitary skeletons attempting to hit the Professor, but whiffs his main strikes against the center cohort.

The Professor curses as she attempts to formulate a plan, and curses again as she sees a feminine figure dressed in armor under a white tunic steps out from the tall white pillar despite no obvious means of egress. She curses a third time as the figure approaches, draws a flaming sword and begins to slash at the nearest undead and cheer the party on in their efforts to repel the skeleton mob. Duly encouraged, Professor Thorntongue continues to lob her sacred fires in amongst the boney rabble.

Still surrounded, Kyllar again blast a Thunderwave. Fortunately, this time, the center cohort fails to avoid the blast. Unfortunately the wings of the loose skeleton formation hold. Fortunately, the center cohort is blown to bits by the percussive force, their lose bones being tossed backwards.

As the inert bones clatter to the ground, Whudyalookadah assumes the shape of a boar, with mighty tusks. Unfortunately, it is a gnome-sized boar, and the adorable teacup pig charges between the legs of one of the cohorts, inflicting no harm.

The skeleton formation is split in two, and each retaliates; their rusty weapons swinging around, missing the Professor and bouncing harmlessly off Rhogar in the south but cutting into Kyllar and the boar hide of Whudyalookadah in the north. Maintaining the attention of the southern cohort, Rhogar strikes out at the lone skeleton harassing the Professor, and soundly clobbers it, the fighter’s weapon striking the helmet of the skeleton, and collapsing its spine to dust as the blow drive the bones back towards the ground. Remaining composed, Rhogar commands Kyllar to retreat, and the wizard obeys, slinking out of the melee and asking the newcomer who she is.

She suggests that they can talk later, and with a prayer, swings her flaming blade into the cohort of skeletons distracted by Rhogar, and smoldering bones fly as the tide begins to turn in favor of the party.

Professor  Thorntongue and Kyllar lob another round of fiery magic into the cohort while Whudyalookadah makes another pass at the ankles and shins of the last skeleton cohort. They stab at the boar but cannot seem to take it down. Rhogar and the paladin advance, this time Rhogar battering the cohort to oblivion and the paladin smiting the solitary skeleton.

As the bone dust settles, the woman regards the party, looking beyond them, off into the distance… perplexed, but her composure is soon regained, and she introduces herself as the Holy Warden Isabella – charged with consecrating and defending these grounds from the undead… and wonders why the party would come armed to a cemetery.

The party gestures to the broken bones of the skeletons at their feet. Point taken. Adventurers should be prepared. Well, what brings them here then?

The party relates that they are hunting what they believe to be a group of monks known as the Wizened, who are dabbling with zombies and necromancy using magical rods grafted to the spines of some of the zombies.

Isabella has not heard of necromancy in this way… but admits she is more familiar with smiting the undead than in determining how they magically work.

The party learns more about this young Isabella. She is not tied to any religious order. The gods instilled her directly with her holy powers, and she was compelled to this place and tasked with its protection. She is the current Warden in a long line of defenders. They live in this warded pillar until they fall, and then a new one is apparently imbued with power and summoned by the gods. While she lives alone, this area is not always so desolate; there are festivals and services every few days, with many coming to pay their respects to her as protector and groundskeeper.

The party is rightly more interested in her protection duties, and Isabella relates a little more about their surroundings. Sharn’s current incarnation, the impressive City of Towers is only its newest incarnation; but the site has been inhabited for thousands of years, and these rocky hills have become the repositories of countless dead, some powerful, many meek. The tree line marks the end of what her and her predecessors have reclaimed and warded. In and beyond the forests, lurks a powerful lich known as Ujix the Despoiler, and nestled in these crags are buried other evils and treasures.

The party continues to follow each question with another, and learn that Isabella has been serving her role as Warden for almost 6 years, and in that time she and Ujix have entered into a deadly game of cat and also cat; each one smiting the companions/minions of the other, but leaving their main adversary unharmed.

After fighting alongside her, and hearing her stories, Rhogar has been regarding the paladin with his trained eyes as a fighter, and is able to deduce that she is both more skilled and more resilient than the dragonborn. But the fighter’s thoughts are derailed before he can put those facts into any kind of context by

Mention of the lich Ujix has greatly excited the party, and they are eager to go beat up a lich; but Isabella looks on with horror at the rash desire, attempting to dissuade such belligerent action. If you bring an army against the lich, you are doomed to fail, for with each soldier of yours that is slain, you feel the lost twice as bad as normal; for the soldier falls and then rises to resist you. Such it would likely be with a group of adventures for as soon as one falls… the fight gets that much tougher.

Aside from these occasional probing attacks against her wards and defenses, Ujix keeps to himself. Believing that one-on-one is the only way to defeat the lich… Isabella is content to leave well enough alone for now. The world is dangerous enough without picking fights.

It is well on in the day, and Isabella offers the group lodging for the coming night while they plan their next move. Dusk is still a ways away however, and Isabella inquires if the group visited the tomb of Winfiz the Destroyer - nestled in the cliffs to the west. There is time enough to visit them and return to the pillar before nightfall. The group lets the paladin lead the way.

Isabella leads them to a tall alcove, with the cliff rocks shaped and smoothed away to create a safe and sheltered area. A stone-shaped arch marks the entrance, and though the exterior is quite weathered, it appears to be decorated with a weathered carving of a figure standing on cracked earth, surrounded by a disorganized horde of lizardmen-looking creatures over the bucking ground.

The group shuffles inside, and sees a small, roughly cubic shape in the center of the room. It appears to be a coffin-like object, and a gnome-sized body is displayed on the top, with etchings around his hands, and snaking around his back and neck.

At gnome eye level, Whudyalookadah notices a story, and begins reciting the tale of Winfiz the Destroyer for the party. Long, long ago, before Sharn was a city, it was quite literally a hole in the ground, filled with kobolds. A nearby gnomish tribe went to battle their ancient racial enemies, but miscalculated. Their vanguard was surrounded and being overrun when a soldier named Winfiz manifested a dragonmark, which burned into his flesh and glowed. The ground quaked, and collapsed on top of the kobold tunnels. The gnomish expedition was granted a respite. They recovered Winfiz's body, and erected this tomb to watch over the grounds and (hopefully) prevent the kobolds here from rising out again.

Local history demonstrated that the tomb did not have any magical properties, and the kobolds eventually dug themselves out. However, some of the script catches Whudyalookadah's eye, and he realizes the gnome scribe's description of the spell contains enough information to mimic Winfiz's earthen cataclysm, and he, the Professor and Kyllar learn a simple cantrip to disrupt and up heave a small section of ground.

Satisfied with a day's worth of exploring, they solemnly depart the tomb, and begin the walk back to Isabella's pillar.