D&D FR Summer 2004
Home Up D20 Insane Campaign D20 Modern Horror Autumn 2004 D&D FR Summer 2004 D&D Autumn 2004 Arcana Unearthed Summer 2004 D20 Futuristic Winter 2004 GURPS Winter 2004 D20 EQ Summer 2003 GURPS Fall 2003 D20 Futuristic Spring 2003 D&D Summer 2003 Bunnies and Burrows d20 Gamma World D20 Alpha Spring 2004 Gamma World D20 Beta Spring 2004


  • Name:   Racking Relegation
  • Setting:  Forgotten Realms - Faerun
  • Time Frame:    Fantasy
  • Genre:    Fantasy (d20)
  • Progress Level: D&D = Dungeons and Dragons 
  • Life:    All common races and monsters of Faerun
  • Plot:    TBD
  • Goals:    
    • Young men seeking adventure
    • Dungeon crawl
    • "Give me dice!"
    • Stay consistent
    • Roleplaying
  • Characters:   

    Character Players

    Darr (deceased) son of Baddon, a dwarf fighter played by Gamble

    Original character concept by Jon H.

    Nauthiz, "Craver of Pain" is a
    Half-orc monk played by Obi
    Roondar, a gnome sorcerer (deceased) played by Matt
    Sparrow, a human ranger played by Chris
    Amalar, Human cleric played by Clinton

    original character concept by Curtis

    Bill, Dwarf fighter-mage played by Matt
    Hygelac, half-orc barbarian NPC (deceased)
    John, human fighter played by Gamble
    Pheruzius, a human sorcerer (deceased)

     played by Matt

    Galbreath, a human sorcerer played by Noah (left party)
    Vorlax, bonesmasher, a half-orc barbarian played by Mike H. (left party)
    Topo, a half-elf rogue played by Brad (left party)
    Dungeon Mastered by  Manny

Hero Backgrounds

Darr, son of Baddon

Played by Jon

Darr was raised an only child in a fair-sized and established underground Dwarven community within the mountain range called "North Wall," near Shaar. His father, Baddon, was a prominent political leader within the community who, at least during the majority of his career, was considered wise and just and was generally well liked by many. It is no surprise then that Darr's early education focused on politics. His father's wishes, and Darr's own early interests, were that Darr be groomed to eventually assume a prominent place within the community as had his father before him. However, to his father's disappointment, it eventually became obvious that Darr simply did not possess his father's natural political skills and public charisma.

In the hope that Darr could still find a place in a leadership role after all, and with the lad having grown larger and stronger than most Dwarves his young age, Darr was pushed into (the mandatory) military service at an earlier age than usual. There, due to his size and native intelligence, the martial and weapons training seemed to come to him almost naturally. With seemingly little effort on his part, he began to excel both in his formal military training and the casual, but often painful(!), mock duels and wrestling matches common among the military cadets. It is useful to note here that these may have been even more challenging than usual due to the jealousy with which his older peers viewed Darr; preferring to think of his successes more as "privileges granted" him for his young age and father's political power than the earned victories they truly were. Needless to say, Darr's continued success in his early military training, combined with his abnormally young age at the time, served more to alienate Darr from the rest of his cadet class than to form any lasting bonds with them.

Upon completion of formal training, his first "strike team" was, as tradition dictated, filled with grizzled veteran military "lifers." Somehow, the unusual combination of career military Dwarf and too-young "privileged shortbeard," as they liked to call Darr, worked. Career military, after years of dwelling at the farthest fringes of the community's "established" underground territory, was commonly considered by society as being somewhat "uncouth," and often seemed closest in philosophy to the orcs, goblins, and other creatures that they regularly fought. It was in this remote and insulated little community that Darr formed the strongest personal connections of his young life and perhaps should have found his permanent home and life's work. However, the surfacing of an important factor prevented this. Although his fighting talent was apparent, especially after the practiced veterans had "un-learned" him of the "useless book learning" taught in his formal training, Darr actually found the constant killing distateful. The regular actions of his fellow team members, who had a very practical outlook on this particular topic due to "the nature of their jobs," often found odds with Darr's personal moral philosophy. The older Dwarves didn't question the need for what they did; they simply acted. Darr on the other hand was often accused of "thinking too much" when he brought this topic up. And he learned to keep it to himself.

During Darr's military service, trouble arose back home involving his father's career. A rival council member, who seemed most often to hold an opinion exactly contrary to Baddon's, gained in power. Eventually, to both disgrace Baddon and to rid himself of a second potentially troublesome rival, this evil Dwarf conspired to the murder of a fellow council member and managed to frame Darr's father with the heinous crime. After a long and painful process, during which Baddon was imprisoned and disgraced and his wife beset by mean-spirited hecklers, the Dwarven community decided the worst fate for Baddon possible: he would be stripped of his good Dwarven name and exiled from the community for which he had given his life's work. Facing what was to him an obviously unacceptable fate, Baddon chose death instead and took his life by his own hand. Darr's mother followed her husband to the grave shortly thereafter when her health gave way to her grief, and Dwarves who had been close family friends for many years turned their backs on her.

Because of Darr's isolation from the main Dwarven society while with his strike team, he escaped much of the pain of disgrace during this period. However, once his mandatory military service was over (having decided that a life of killing did not suit him) Darr tried to return to his place in regular society. As if the grief and pain at the loss of both parents was not enough, as well as the confusion surrounding his father's involvement in a murder, he found himself being shunned by his fellow Dwarves. His former military classmates were particularly cruel to him as he tried to find his way within the suddenly callous Dwarven society. Try as he might, Darr found himself unable to advance into a career or ultimately even to support himself as no opportunities were provided to him.

The only positive thing to happen to Darr during this painful period was Diesa. They had known each other from an early age and had maintained casual contact through the years, even writing each other occasionally during the extended absences of Darr's military service. Upon his discharge, Diesa grew increasingly angry as she witnessed their society treat Darr with undeserved callousness. The couple grew closer and eventually decided to put the Dwarven community behind them. Finding an understanding cleric, they married and left the community they had called home for their entire lives.

Once into the "outland" (i.e. above ground), they settled into a frosty mountain outpost far from anyone, where Darr took up mining while enlarging a small natural cave. It was a harsh existence at first, but Darr was able to unearth enough precious metal, iron, and gemstones to trade for necessities during his regular supply trips to a nearby human village. They lived this way for many years in relative happiness, growing to enjoy the solitude and beauty of the high mountain passes and crystal ponds of their home. Diesa even gave birth to a little girl during these years, Dagna (called "Little Nugget" by Darr), who became the joy of Darr's existence. At first to please Dagna, but later as a way to increase his trading power among the humans, Darr began to experiment with forming the metals and gems he discovered into jewelry, and he became quite adept at it considering he was untrained. After living many peaceful years in this manner, disaster struck. The mine collapsed, killing Diesa and Dagna both, who were bringing Darr his lunch at precisely the wrong time. Darr managed to escape by slowly and painstakingly digging himself out through the collapsed exit, but he now feels solely responsible for the accident and resulting deaths of his wife and daughter (as it was his ceiling supports that failed during the cave-in).

Bitter at the deaths of his loved ones, he now feels himself a failure on all fronts: first at the possibility of any political career when he was very young, then when he walked away from the military path his father had set for him, next when he could not even fit into normal Dwarven society, and finally as a miner, a husband, and a father. Bordering on pious his whole life, even at his very worst being careful to show nothing but respect for the Great Dwarffather, Moradin, Darr has now even forsaken his faith as he himself feels forsaken and alone. After unearthing the corpses for proper burial, Darr says goodbye to the only place that he had ever been truly happy, a place that would never be "home" again. Vowing never to form anything of beauty again with his hands and destroying his jeweler's trade tools, he sets out with his packmule Beelee to pursue the only thing he feels he may have ever excelled at: killing. But perhaps it's his own death, and the resulting end to a lifetime filled with ill fit and pain, that he desires more than anything . . .


Played by Obi

FROM THE CHRONICLES OF THE CRAVER, the 89th NAUTHIZ , With great doubt do I talk about my past. It is not an easy tale, for it begins always with pain. North of here, in neutral terrain between orc and human, lies my monast, the Wo- Tan. The Wo-Tan served as place for decision, place for justice, the caretakers of the balance of my two bloods. No one warred against my monast, no one would dare, orc or human. , For centuries the Wo-Tan, utilized a warrior , the hand of wrath "the mediator of justice", the only hand allowed upon the blade. , It is he who taints himself in evil blood , to wash the rest of the brotherhood. , Only he who walks the path of Dol, pain. , Only he who can lift his hand in Tyr, revenge. , He is named at birth Nauthiz, and his line is a long thread brimming with agony. It is a difficult stone to carry, but alas we must. If not, evil devour us, like raw dripping flesh. , Two score year ago, the last Nauthiz before me, died judging the penitence of a criminal, an orc chieftain who had the habit of raping women within the terrain of peace. A successor could not be found, when panic nearly devoured the Wo-Tan, my mother appeared at the monast in great pain, in great labor pain. , I came into this existence crawling through a tunnel of pain, my mother's life was my first meal. And when she cry out in pain, misery, and finally death, so did Thurisaz, acting as Nauthiz, did prophesize, seeing future, that I was the next incarnation of the Nauthiz..., The Craver of Pain, From the moment the prophecy came from the Thurisaz, I was not raised or sired, I was constructed. Built from the muscle and flesh of my two blood- into steel, wood, and fire. , In the life of the Nauthiz, the path of learning must come, as the Thurisaz takes the post during the stead. Learning the world, one learn to judge, smite pain to those fortunate deserving- whether they please or not. , I am on that path, the path of pain, for that I face this world., May their god deliver those that oppose me.

Roondar (Deceased)

Played by Matt



Played by Curtis


            Amalar was a diligent scholar from a young age.  He attended The Centre for Timeless Knowledge, a school run by the clergy of Labelas Enoreth, The Sage at the Sunset.  Somewhat to the chagrin of his teachers, he had almost no ambition (even for an elf) to apply his learning to any practical purpose.  He seemed content to never leave the schools.  In fact, he never did.  After receiving an advanced degree, he joined the church of Lebelas Enoreth to follow in his teaches footsteps and began teaching at the very same school.

After teaching for nearly a century, his colleagues strongly encouraged him to get some worldly experience so he could become a better teacher and cleric of Labelas.  Telling him that the university could use first hand accounts of [adventuring place] to add to their timeless lore finally convinced him to leave the school.  Reluctantly, Amalar set out to see thins new region firsthand.

            Amalar was also told that over 200 years ago, another cleric of Labelas, Raesel Moondaes, went on a similar mission of learning to [region]; but never returned.  Amalar was asked to see if he could find out any information on what may of happened to her.

            Se he set off with a modest amount of gold funded by the university, simple weapons for defense, and a journal to record his findings in.  He also wore his family cloak.  Although this cloak radiates magic when detected, it has never shown any special properties; but Amalar is convinced it does an above-average job of keeping him warm at night.


Played by Chris

Background Story:

             Son to a High ranking general of Halruaa a boy enjoyed a rich life.  From the birth to age 7, the boy had little to do for himself.  The boy spent much of his time sitting in a tall tree near the town gate.  He wanted to be the first to see his father riding home from the war.  He would often whistle at passing merchants and travelers to pass the time.  His mother soon started calling him Sparrow when she would have to call him down from the tree.

             A age 7, near the end of the war Sparrow was kidnapped.  Sparrow was to be held for ransom by the enemy in exchange for Sparrow’s father to back down from the western front.  When Sparrow’s father got news of this he refused to give in to their demands.  Instead he took a large company of men into enemy territory to save his son.

             Sparrow’s father was successful in retrieving his son.  Before he returned, the enemy conducted a huge attack on the western front suspecting that the demands would be met.  The western front was lost and the army took heavy casualties.

            Sparrow’s father was blamed and as a consequence Sparrow’s family (father, mother, and son) was banished to the forest.

            Sparrow spent much of his life hunting for the family after that time.  He learned to live off the land and hunt down all types of animals.  He became particularly good at fending off the vermin in the nearby wilderness.  Even after all that had happened, the trees still felt like a safe place for Sparrow to spend his free time.  Sparrow still tried to maintain some of the luxuries as he had as a kid with little success.

             Every so often Sparrow would be sent into town to sell fur and to buy supplies that can not be acquired in the forest.  At the age of 14, he once mad the mistake of explaining to curious townsman who he was.  Sparrow managed to escape after some beating.  As he ran a rock struck him in the back of the head.  This left a scar where no hair would grow.  He limped home cursing his own name.

             At age 16 Sparrow’s mother died.  He vowed he would not waste his life in banishment.  He reported to his father that he would soon leave his home in order to reclaim his father’s past honor.  His father knew he could not stop him.  Sparrow’s father feared for his son’s safety and began teaching him how to defend himself.  Sparrow’s father also gave his son a set of studded leather armor left over from his time as a general.

             Sparrow stayed home to take care of his father until the age of 17 when his father died.  Sparrow left the home he was banished to and went out to reclaim what his father had earned.

Physical Description (Very Quick):

He is clothed in animal fur.  A large dear skin covers his torso.  Another skin is fashioned into loose fitting pants.  He has a pack on his back with a bedroll and heavy blanket attached underneath it.  There is a large well used dagger strapped to his chest and a longbow over his shoulder.


played by Noah

Vorlax, bonesmasher

played by Mike H.

Valdor Bonecrusher is a dim-witted, crass, half orc barbarian who is very pious in his worship of Gruller, Lord of Chaos in Battle. Although not the sharpest tool in the shed, he is wise beyond his years and incredible strong.

He was from a tribe of Orci who raided near Three Swords. Upon gaining experience in his clan, he was ousted due to jealousy and racial hatred toward this human side. He betrayed his clan after his ousting, and the military of 3 Swords wiped them out. He then became a sell-sword in the city until the coming of the darkness...

He was cast out of his Orcish tribe because of his half humanity, but still has much of the manners of an Orc. His favorite hobbies are drinking, chasing whores, and of course brawling in bars, and swinging his great sword outside of them.

He can be a trustworthy friend if impressed by someone's prowess in battle. He would eventually like to become a priest of Gruller after he has enough Barbarian abilities to smash his foes.

Pheruzius  (Deceased)

Played by Matt

A wave of a hand, a few words, a splash of blood, and magic has been wrought.
  Or so they say.

In the eyes of a mage, there is so much more. The words and gestures... All for show. Stage magic if you will.

In the eyes of an ascended magician, such as myself, there is so much more. The pulling of the threads of reality, the warping of life itself, changing life into death and back again.
I do this every day.

How, you may ask, does a normal human being one day, suddenly, gain so much power?
  Well my friend. It is a long and daunting task.

To forget everything you want to believe is true is no simple feat. One must force himself, consciously and not, to see beyond the conveniently placed reality that you know. This alone could takes years.

But I digress.
You are not here to listen to my hardships, of my coming into power...
You want to know my history correct? Of course you do.
Well why should I tell you? My past contains more secrets than you could possibly imagine.
So I suppose I should start at the beginning.

As I am sure you have already guessed. I am a mage, a sorcerer if you will. It is a family gift. I am descended from a race of sorcerers. If you could not perform even a simple trick, you were cast out. Never to be heard from again.

This is becoming more commonplace unfortunately. With each passing generation our power slowly dwindles.
I have, however, found some unconventional ways to sustain my power.

Blood, the life essence of magic. Drinking it retains my sanity, and some semblance of power.

While I am on the subject of blood perhaps I should elaborate on my family tree. You see, I am descended from a race of vampires. The Tremere to be exact.

Do not be afraid, I do not bite necks or turn into a bat. I merely collect blood from willing individuals and keep it with me.

But why should that concern you?
I don't know. If you don't want to hear this then why did you ask?
Mortals are such strange creatures...

Home Community
Pheruzius's home community consisted of Arcane Compound where communities tend to be close- knit and focused on a single interest. Pheruzius's community has up to 2000 people at times.

Pheruzius feels at home in high altitude and rugged lands of the North Wall mountain range where vegetation is sparse above the tree line, but forests and meadows predominate lower down. Pheruzius grew up with cold winters, but warm summers.

Pheruzius showed an affinity for the arcane arts. Pheruzius has special military training which may include artillery, armorer, underdark scout.. Pheruzius studied "defenses against the dark arts" and learned ways to fight monsters and battle the influence of black magic.

Perhaps Pheruzius was menaced by a dangerous creature who were from the North pass of the North Wall range. Pheruzius displayed an innate talent for arcane spellcasting. Others took notice.  Pheruzius's home community is faced with a new a schism which tears existing mages apart.

Pheruzius was raised as part of a arcane order. While Pheruzius's "family" didn't have much direct income, it had access to resources through its mage guild. The oldest members control Pheruzius's family. Pheruzius's family relies on magical protection. Pheruzius's family takes actions detrimental to the community. Regardless of Pheruzius's family's actual ethics, public opinion is so ingrained about his family that it's essentially unchangeable. Public opinion is accurate

Pheruzius's family has no specific political stance. Pheruzius's family believes in a arcane movement considered dangerous by the community at large. In general, Pheruzius's family is upstanding, but one or more members of family are known to be disreputable. Pheruzius's family is at the very pinnacle of social standing in the community. Pheruzius's family is rumored to have produced an ancestor who ascended to had meaningful contact with the gods in some way.

Both of Pheruzius's parents are alive and healthy. Pheruzius has
2 older siblings and 2 younger siblings. At least one, maybe more great-grandparent is living. Make a note of how many and who they are. Select again to check on your grandparents. Pheruzius knows dozens of relatives of various generations. Pheruzius is a loner by choice or circumstance. A top-notch instructor taught Pheruzius more advanced arcane techniques.
Pheruzius's family has earned the enmity of a group of mages.


played by Brad

Home Community TOPO's fringe community was a settlements consisting of 30 halfelves, half-orcs, and other mixed breeds and outcasts.,

Climate TOPO feels at home anyplace where precipitation and vegetation are rare. This could include anything from a sandy wasteland to a rugged field of lava. TOPO lives where conditions are warm year-round., Education TOPO learned the religious beliefs of his community or family. Perhaps he embraced them, or perhaps he rejected them. TOPO spent time seeking animal skins or meat in the wilderness. TOPO learned to illustrate, sculpt, dance, or create art in other ways., Events TOPO was born under a strange moon, a comet in the sky, or some other phenomenon. TOPO broke the law and got caught and suffered some form of punishment, or TOPO learned how to dodge the consequences and survive. A significant monster or villain threatens TOPO's home community and is eventually either destroyed or driven off., Family TOPO's family owns at least a small dwelling or can make rent payments without significant concern. The family's income slightly exceeds its needs. The oldest members control TOPO's family. TOPO's family trains actively in matters martial and is prepared for combat with a few days of last-minute preparation. TOPO's family is known for involvement in the community and acting to help others. TOPO's family’s ethical reputation matches their private ethics. TOPO's family has no specific political stance. TOPO's family openly venerates one deity while privately venerating another. Individuals are treated without regard to TOPO's family name. Members of TOPO's family may be guilty of crimes, or wrongly convicted of them. Either way, other members of the community treat TOPO poorly as a result. TOPO's family produced a great military leader who was eventually defeated., Relationships Both of TOPO's parents are deceased, and the player chooses how the parents passed away. TOPO is an only child TOPO remember his grandparents, but they have passed away. TOPO has no living relatives beyond the ones already mentioned. TOPO is a loner by choice or circumstance. TOPO's favorite instructor of note is of a half-orc. Someone in TOPO's family hates and fears TOPO, either openly or secretly.

NPC Backgrounds
Hygelac  (Deceased)

Child-like and Nieve half-orc barbarian with a need for instruction and guidance.  Hygelac's family abandoned him at birth and he lacks formal education.  He is polite for a half-orc barbarian and respects others who treat him nicely.  He forms attachments to others quite easily and is protective of his friends.  Rarely rages cause unless absolutely provoked, fails to see the need for violence, but can become quite a valuable sword wielder when necessary.

Hygelac likes small animals and furry critters.


Human Monk friend of Nauthiz


Played by Manny

Adventure Logs
Racking Relegation Log 
Adventure 1 - Town of Darkness

The journey across these lands, though uneventful, did tire me. Long traveling from my monast did educate me, but dwindled my body. I arrived at the town of Channath at a perilous time. While walking the streets, seeking rest and shelter, a warrior- battle weary and desperate, marched into town with his squire. Planting his horse in the middle of town, barely missing me, he warned the town of an impending darkness about to swallow the city. Surely a madman I thought, watching a dwarf walk by with a mule, eyed suspiciously by a mage. ( I would later be crestfallen to hear of the dwarf’s life, that of love and opportunity lost, of a strange attachment to his mule, and a melancholy that would rival that of Hagal, the world bearer.)

Yet even a madman can have moments of sanity. For as I was about to ask him more about this darkness- so did it descend on all of us. In the pitch black, I retreated into the tavern behind me, tripping over the same mage. I raced into the tavern, trying to warn the others but only finding resistance and the persistent pestering of the bar help.
Arriving at back of the tavern, I was shocked to meet one of my superiors Tharamis. Even more of a shock when he burdened me with the news that I, Nauthiz, the Craver of Pain, was the last monk standing.
Luckily, the adrenalin of battle unified my thoughts.

The mage Pheruzius attempted an escape from the tavern at the end of a crossbow. I tried to disarm him but failed, allowing him to escape into the town (later I found of his attack on a defenseless donkey). A commotion outside, a trap laid by Amalar and Topo, shot three unearthly creatures into the tavern. The skill of the last two monks of Wo-tan repelled the invaders, bringing them the mercy of eternal peace.

Outside, the darkness cleared after Tharamis and I rounded the tavern.
One immensely large creature remained, and several warriors gathered to try and defeat the enemy. These included the valiant cleric Amalar, the nearly beserking dwarf Dar, a cooperative rogue named Topo, the quick thinking ranger Sparrow, and the questionable mage- who was only too happy to retreat.

The creature nearly killed Tharamis, and I was put in a positional unenviable by any warrior- that of choosing between his order of retreat and not leaving a fellow monk trapped in battle. Only the courage of a cleric saved my brother, as I shot a volley of arrows at the creature.

After a prolonged struggled, apparently killing the two dwarves, the creature gave us the opportunity of retreats- a wise move. For how can justice bring pain to a deserving brotherhood, if it loses its weapon on the earth?  Amalor returned to save the two dwarves moments after the creature moved away.
Adventure 2 - Defending the Inn

written on the 16th day of Kaythorn

In those naive early years when the news of the fall of the Wo-Dan had not reached the doors of other monasts; my journey swelled with peril and challenge.

Our next day at the town of Channath near 3 Swords proved to test us in both the enemy without and within. On that day our barely united band of adventurers spent the day searching the town; mobilizing it against the invasion of darkness that we learned was returning on that night.

Leaving the safety of the forest with my injured brother, Tharimus, proved to be risky. Searching with a questionable rogue, and Sparrow, we searched for survivors of the carnage, rations of food, and gear. In the tavern we found a thief scurrying for gold (such is the ways of civilization, no control- taking advantage of the circumstance- for that is why I seek the Core). We confronted him but still he kept on picking the tavern's floor for gold pieces. Finally, we left him to his fate.
Topo and I searched a dwelling across the Inn. Within I spotted something hiding in shadow, confronting it- a club came toward the rogue and I.

Meanwhile the fate of Pheruzius continued to be cast in cold steel.
Rather than aid us; the foolish young wielder decided to antagonize every darkness weary/ magic paranoid resident in town. Entering the tavern he remarkably convinced the thief to simply bolt out the door- taking the gold for himself. A feat he performed another time as well.
Then retribution came in the form of a well placed arrow.

As Pheruzius confronted the first chapter of his well deserved fate; Darr ,son of Badden, decided to explore the Inn- finding survivors as the sun slowly descended about us. The safety and clarity of day contracted against the descent of darkness. It was no surprise that our dwarven miner wrestled with the presence of Darla. Perhaps this was what made his great axe begin to stray from many arks. For I have heard that to see a dwarf’s heart one must only observe the condition and accuracy of his steel. This race, these people, this world, relies far too much on steel- while the body is truly the strongest of elements.

Beside Darr ,son of Badden, Amalor marched, spreading a calmness to the citizens of Channath. Always curious and willing to help- the cleric proved to be a valuable asset to our group. If not for him, surely our bodies would have been carrion fodder long ago. Since the priest saved Darr’s life, the fighter pledged his axe and path to him; a responsibility that the humble holy servant did not abuse nor ignore- treating his debtor with the same pallor as any of us.

As Topo and I questioned the intruder, he clubbed me with a fierce arm.
I clenched my fist, great hand of judgment, slamming him back as Topo shot a volley. My shoulder pulsing hard, we ran after the conniving thug as he slipped into an alley beside the inn.

“I do not think I will leave!” I later heard that Pheruzius said at the wrong end of a tensed arrow and quiver. The woman in shadow had cocked it, intent on defending herself from more supernatural raiders. Now even Thurisaz, my mentor, taught me to know when to and when not to cross the line of an arrow. Apparently our accursed mage had no such teaching.
Thus as he refused to leave, the tip of an arrow showed him precisely the way out- right through his shoulder.

Meeting at the inn, my companions found it curious that the mage had an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. While Amalor questioned the victim and I attended to the needs of my superior, Tharimus, Darr, Son of Badden, looked at Pheruzius with a questionable brow, so obvious in members of the dwarven race. He looked down at the quiver that had stuck Belee and a connection began to form.

Before night came the companions finished their search of the town; finding a gnome sorcerer , a rude dwarf female with a bellows for a voice (I could never tell the difference between a dwarven male and a female), and a cowardly braggart wielding a crossbow we dubbed ironically “the mayor”. Amalor, always seeing that justice be done, questioned the mysterious archer who had severely wounded Pheruzius- his conclusion was that the woman had acted in apparent self defense; intimidated by the man who preferred to not only dwell, but to to think, in shadows.

The talk of arrows, of confronting Pheruzius with these actions, he reacted by arming his crossbow; brought a fury to Darr. The fighter accused Pheruzius of shooting his defenseless dungeoneering mule, Belee.
With the keen eye of a craftsman, Darr had matched the bolt in the magi’s bow with the one taken from the mule's sore rump.

In all my paths to the core of my existence, I have unfortunately encountered many an angered dwarf; but never angrier than Darr avenging his beloved mule. With his curved axe, he chased Pheruzius about the
Inn- with not a soul attempting to stop him.

Your humble Craver of Pain, servant of the Wo-Dan, wrestled with the need for justice and the need of an ally. The thug Hellgerd had sought shelter in our inn. My need for blood became paramount. To the point that I sought council with Tharimus. He advised patience and non-action- for we did need his mighty clubbing arm against the army soon to come in darkness. My shoulder, however, did not agree.

Darr’s axe fell like the mighty decision of an executioner. Biting a rage worthy of the Half- Orc Barbarians that raid our lands; the Son of Badden catapulted the dead mage’s body out into the night. There he was left to his utmost castigation; food for the beings enshrouded by the abyss itself.

That abyss could no longer be denied, the sun sank into the far ataobs of the west. We boarded up the two doors at the front and back of the inn turned keep. Many of us wounded, we posted the best watch we could.
Darr and Tharamis went to rest as the cleric retreated to his hallowed prayers and ceremonies. For me, a soul raised hearing evocations to the mind and spirit, it was strange to hear gods being called from heavens and earth.

Luckily for all of us a ranger knows how to create a defense against the enemy. Sparrow, our human ranger, appeared everywhere; encouraging the defenders, setting watches, securing possible breeches, and inspecting posts from where Topo and he could volley at the invading horde.

With a crash the two doors of our inn/ keep burst in, vomiting a mass of putrid creatures summoned by fear itself. Tharamis, I, the dwarven sleeper, Hygelac, a dim witted but alarmingly loyal half- orc with a sword the size of a dragon’s canine whom we brought into the inn, defended the rear doorway.

Darr, Dorla, the thug Hellgard, and Sparrow held the line at the entrance of the inn. Topo and Amalor provided essential holds at the center. The cleric cured wounds where needed- energizing Darr, Son of Badden, and Sparrow, preventing them from falling. Topo, ever the ranged strategist, stood on a table in the center of the inn, firing at both front and back when needed.

While Tharamis and I tried to push back the tanned midget hell beasts, their continuous numbers ate at us as if pushed from out of hell’s entrails like a long chain of bites and punches.The great Tharamis fell, and I took a barrage of damage. Hygelac smite them for hurting his friends, with an anger of an orcan babe who had lost his favorite toy.
The rude dwarven female, Torissa  bashed with axe and fist; falling as I did in the end.

Tragedy then struck the front of the inn. Darr’s cloud of melancholy must have followed him to Channath. After being healed by Amalor, the dwarf gripped his axe too quickly- charging down stair at a crowd of invaders. The weapon slipped- cleaving his wife’s twin sister- in the back no less as she lay helpless after taking damage. We heard Darr curse his god’s very loins for smiting him so. Alas who are we to judge the dice we ourselves have rolled?

Truly the skill of Sparrows flying steel arrows over our heads, and Hygelac’s nearly obstructive blade, must have saved all of us. Even the normally reserved Amalor did bash a beast’s head with his Quarterstaff after healing me where I fell, I was beaten to the point that I could not even make contact with a creature that stepped over me to attack my cleric benefactor.

Luckily the horde’s numbers finally diminished and were defeated before morning. We in the inn counted our honored dead, hoping the next morning to be finally rid of this menace and the accursed town of Channath.

Adventure 3 - Tracking Phreuzius

From the Chronicles of the Craver of Pain, written on the events of 17th- 18th day of Kythorn

There is no rest for those who seek the Core of their Existence; that place of perfect self that my teachers so strived that I reach. Yet how many trials await on that golden road that leads so far into the self? I would know soon enough, as we descended into the very bowels of the earth itself.

The day after our fierce battle with the flesh army at the inn; Tharamis and I had to heal. My wounds were extensive and did deteriorate me to the point of collapse. We sought the relative security of the forest to the north- where once we retreated to in order to escape from the leader of the darkness that had so beat us back. There in the forest we attempted to heal one another- with mixed results.

The majority of the group decided to return to town; for reasons that I, to this day, do not understand. Returning, the inn was secure, and all the people there requested that we spend another night defending the town of Channath. We decided to leave; but my brother Tharamis and Topo, decided to stay in order to heal. He allowed me to leave and warn other towns of the danger. Deep in my soul, I had not liked that one of my teachers abandon me to the world. It was only after much later that I would learn that the Nauthiz must learn alone in the world- without the direction of another.

When we returned to town we acquired other allies as well. A half-Orc Barbarian approached us (a shame that my unique race often times chooses to embrace the ways of the wild- so much power  await us in the path of the Core) and offered his sword to defeat this enemy- his name, Vorlax- with the title of Bonecrusher no less. Beside him was easily one of the bravest (or most foolish) elf sorcerers, I have ever had the entertained pleasure of walking the path with, his name, Galbreath. We would soon know why...

Finally Sparrow suggested, and decided to follow the sickening trail that the body of Pheruzius left- as he was dragged to the lair of these fleshed enemies. Little did we know that in his death the mage would aid us more than in life.

Following the trail, a spore that even the wise and astute ranger, Sparrow, had some difficulty following across a river. Where we apparently learned that dwarves, like the weapons they forge, fear being rusted by water. I had no idea they were so delicate to rivers and oceans. This begs the question which I have never asked any of them- how often do they bathe?

We all made motions to cross the small river, most of us crossing it with relative ease. All except Darr, Son of Badden, he outright refused; much to our annoyance. Wading across, I had to throw a rope and lead him across as if leading him to the fires of his doom. Actually if we would have been leading him to that he would have felt at home.

Making Darr’s crossing without incident. the trail lead to a large entrance that descended downward. Typical of my barbarian brethren, Vorlax rushed into the main entrance- without thought to markings or anything of the sort. He must have believed, he had dark vision, that all simply follow him. This we did. Finding nothing except a band of wild dogs snarling at us. Beginning with Galbreath, who immediately attacked in the unsorcerer-like style, we defeated them relatively easily. Yet in the end one was able to howl before dying- and this may have alerted the enemy to our presence.

Upon a quick search we found a narrow staircase to another level. With great confidence, Vorlax descended into the darkness, I followed- trying to obtain an efficient marching order. However with such adventurers as Galbreath and Roondar, such planning is inadvertently defeated. On the second level we encountered more of the creatures which leveled Channath; beating them back on two fronts after Vorlax and I leaped into the fray.   I tumbled past a few to get a jump from behind them.

A wide slope lead to our next level of challenge. It began with us descending the slope, no simple task with the fighter Darr about. A seasoned dungeoneer, Darr wished to use ropes and pegs in order to descend to the next level. True the dwarf thought of escape when everyone only thought of exploration and conquest- but no one said anything about leading a mule into the challenges ahead.

Galbreath nearly killed himself when he foolishly slipped down the slope while trying to climb to retrieve some torches.

After we all descended the treacherous slope, we all refused to bring the mule Beelee. Thus our fighter had to leave his companion- no matter what level of skill the mule may have had in exploring dungeons. As Darr descended the slope, I spotted something moving in the impenetrable darkness; I informed the dwarf, and he soon brought the attention of a magic wielding skeleton warrior. We fought from a distance as many of them came at us. We all fought bravely with Sparrow slicing the air with his arrowheads and keeping a keen eye on our backs. Again the Sorcerer Galbreath attacked as if a mighty young warrior possessed his soul. Wounded almost near death, he begged Amalor for healing but the cleric refused- saying that he would hold onto his spells for when there would be a greater need. That indeed would come soon enough...

We attacked a second front of skeletal warriors, Hygelac and Vorlax rushed the onslaught- with Darr slamming into the fray with his axe. Critical problems usually come in sets. Vorlax dropped his great sword moments before Darr dropped his great axe. Both Vorlax and Darr lost their weapons to the enemy, their skeletal opponent took both weapons and made off into a tunnel. Amalor turned two of the undead and they fled into the antechamber.  

As Sparrow shot at some approaching skeleton warriors, they cut the ropes leading down to a wounded Roondar.  Then the skeletons attempted to leap the across the slope towards sparrow.  One made it amazingly enough, the other fell to where Roondar rest.

I have purposely left out the actions of Roondar, for so much I am sure has already been written about him (and by him). To the chroniclers I say that the gnome sorcerer is only a volley of showmanship- perhaps even a good acrobat. If you are of strong mind then you will not believe what he has written about our adventures. One episode, however, is true- when he leaped the chasm to escape a skeletal warrior. Few saw the gnome leap a distance impossible for any of his race; by the gods had I and others only seen that lone torch leap across that stone maw.  A shame that this glorious feat had to be cheapened by the gnome repeating his tale of the accomplishment to everyone constantly.

The dark cloud that Darr had carried ever since that day in his mine, where tragedy struck just before lunch- must have caught me in its grip. Perhaps influenced by the blind rages of Vortax ( a feat I always believed to be a part of the half-orc’s soul rather than a barbarian’s ability) I chased after the vile turned undead in the chamber. My fists served me quite well as I felt bone and magic being crushed despite their ability to blink in and out of existence.

Unfortunately for me Darr decided to help me defeat the warriors. Yet when he attacked, his axe, or better his hand, failed him. Darr’s weapon flew into the rock before us, pieces of stone flew into our face- throwing the fighter deeper into a rage. He grabbed the weapon, but this god that these dwarves worships, this moradin, seemed to again abandon him. Aye what good is a god if he does not serve you? How well our souls, our minds, our bodies, do serve us without a prayer or an evocation!  Darr pulled the axe out and dropped it.  After picking the axe up once again he swung at the enemy. This moradin must have also had a grudge against me. The axe swung too wide and cleaved me in the side- throwing me dangerously close to death’s sweet embrace. 

After the great and generous Amalor healed me- I learned that the enemy had been defeated but shadows still awaited us on still lower levels.  Sparrow was wounded, Galbreath near death, and Roondar excited but also near death.  Vorlax slayed the remaining skeletal warriors in the area.

Adventure 4:  Return to the Cave

Journal of the Nauthiz, the Craver of Pain, from his travels and experiences trying to reach the Core...

In the Monast, the brothers raised me as their own- teaching me the ways of reaching the Core and the pathways of pain. We lived in an enclosed world, attempting to reproduce the chaos and war of the outside. Yet their efforts fell short of such noble goals. I first learned this after our first battle in the caves near Channath, truly a mouth opened to Hell itself.

After being felled unconscious by my own comrade’s axe, Sparrow’s instinct, as my own, dictated that we return to the safety of the forests that served us so well in the past. This we did, encountering a few more dogs that Darr and Hygelac quickly dispatched. I remained shamefully in the rear, as my wounds were too great to offer any assistance.

In the shadows and relative comfort of the forest, I performed the Runecar ritual, forever branding my skin with the image of my enemies- as it has been done among my school for hundreds of years.

During the night Vorlax, the powerful half-orc warrior spotted strange figures in the night. Luckily Sparrow, ever vigilant, began to awake us.
Yet we barely got to the fight and Vorlax had already slain them all. I searched the bodies, that of simple savage goblin raiders. I found among them some gold, a morning star, and seven javelins.

Perhaps due to a racial disgust of them, Darr immediately began to demand that we go to their village and slaughter all of the occupants.
Other than the undead, the pure evil, or those that have struck upon me, I will not slaughter a people simply for being born goblin, dragon, or drow. We all agreed to return to camp and finish our healing, whereupon all of us attempted to mend one another’s wounds. I also continued my meditations, coming to a revelation in my learning.

If I was to become the Craver of Pain, the Hand of Justice among my school- how could I do that without feeling my own pain? To feel the crisp cold embrace of death, before I hand its mercy to others? Before being the Craver of Other’s Pain surely I would have to accept and feel my own suffering in this world. This a fact that we do not pass onto our initiates, rather we allow them to learn that at their own time, on their own path.

At the moment of that meditation, I knew that my journey would lead me to powerful enemies, and impossible situations, that it would be my duty to pull my psyche, my body, my soul through those tunnels of torture.
The path would be difficult, and near death, yet I knew even in those meek days of weakness- I would prevail.

After we had healed we spotted another goblin party, of which we attacked and slaughtered- Vorlax and Darr leading the charge. From the forest Sparrow spotted victims of the Channath attack. Being lead to caves we had just come from, they appeared drugged, some unconscious, and forced against their will to enter those bowels in the earth.
Guarding the procession marched the creature that had almost annihilated us the first day in Channath. It made a few rounds about the entrance then marched off into another direction.

Hence began another one of our great debates, on whether we should return to the cave or warn other villages. Many times the party threatened to break up, but we all know that the gods, if they do sit fat on their lofty and presumably omnipotent thrones, would not take kindly to this. Thus again we returned to the great maw which had nearly killed us.

Upon entering the second level, with its limiting staircase ripe for an attack, we encountered more of the accursed flesh beasts. At the time, I noted that we were quite prone to ambush, and rarely took past threats into consideration. Luckily they did not try to flank us, but many more waited just around the other corner. Once again I prevailed though wounded, using the benefits of wisdom and cunning over leather and steel.

After defeating the beasts, their numbers dwindling faster since they had not attacked in mass as they did in the Channath inn. Perhaps they were sent to intercept us, to wound us down into an easier enemy. For while many of us attacked, Galbreath and Hygelac especially, more were to come on the next level.

At the behest of Darr, we once again used his remaining pegs and ropes to get down the now familiar slope to the cavern’s main level. Darkness reigned. Getting to the bottom, we found ourselves once again flanked.
Upon our right we encountered skeleton warriors with their fingers of deadly magic missile. Upon our left, amassed a great garrison of armored warriors, deadly undead zombie-like creatures in full armor. They attacked with the fury of demons. We fought valiantly, I on a ledge, Darr at my back being hit with a barrage of missiles. Sparrow once cornered, shot his arrows where he could. In a valiant offense, worthy of our savage primordial race, Vorlax and Hygelac charged the fiends.
Vaulting over stalagmites, the two cut a path through the evil garrison.
At a time we had to protect the valiant Amalor, who healed and attacked where he could.

However their numbers and force appeared too strong, oh if only I had had the powers I have now back then, to crush my enemies with the purity of my present form. In a flurry of blows Roondar fell, as did the nearly insane sorcerer (for he fought like a warrior rather than a cautious
sorcerer) Galbreath. In a last piercing thrust of his savage sword, with an arc of evil blood spraying over all of us. My fellow half-orc Vorlax, fell where he stood, the bodies of many of our comrades about us. Amalor quickly became the most valuable member of our group.

Our forces depleted pitifully (once again), we decided to retreat from the cavern to again heal. On our way out, Darr spotted a pit of souls in the center of the caverns- the very same dragged into the entrance hours before. Thinking that dwarven cries are not heard by the enemy, Darr shouted to our company- immediately a cloak of darkness, the same cold sickly ink we encountered in Channath came over us. Shamefully or perhaps wisely, with the haste of rabbits chased by wolves we left the cave to the forest- once again.

Adventure 5:  No Pain, Some Gain

The acceptance of a person’s path in life always makes things easier. This I realized after I accepted my pains, my wounds, struck down in the darkness of that cave our band encountered.

As so many of our days began, they began with healing, resting, and meditation. We returned to the forest which had proven so beneficial to us in the past. Another one of our famous debates began once again, as a monk I realize the need to ponder and reflect on action. But action takes precedence over all others. I grew tired of waiting, and followed or not- headed for the cave once again with Sparrow and the great Hygelac leading into that abyss.

On the third trial we found no chosen, as I later learned from Tharamis, they were called, nor were there bodies in the cave where we had feld them. Many of us suspected they were doing something with the bodies. Perhaps feeding on them or something of the sort.

We climbed down the now familiar slope into the chaos beyond. There to our shock we found the mass of people, collected there for reasons beyond our comprehension. The dwarf sneered, as was his usual customs in those days where youth still ran through his blood; calling it foul devilry. The pile stood oozing from underneath, where dozens if not hundreds of bodies had been dropped by some sort of shoot or slide into the chamber. There to feed a supply of evil that at the time we had no idea of. The conspiracy of darkness intensified but we deemed it necessary to get those people out of there. Floor filling with putrid bile and unknown death, oozing about our feet, made many of us gag and rebuke.

From one cave came what seemed to be a cleric, a man in flowing robes and great healing power. Yet the repulsive man, instead of using his abilities for good, to aid us in rescuing this mass of flesh, he simply healed them just enough to be of use to the evil hosts of this cave. He called himself the caretaker, and following the mighty Dar’s slap I followed suit, sending that awful cur into the darkness within sleep.

Forming a line, advanced by Amalor’s healing, we rescued many of the people in the cave, sending them to the forest where we had gone many times for shelter.

We made camp, and all rested from the relatively few wounds we had received on that mission. The cleric, while not cooperative had not offered us any other information. In our fury, I knocked him unconscious, such are the trappings of having orcan blood.

Settling into sleep, the darkness came over us, enveloping our sight with its blinding ink. Stumbling out of the dark, Darr and I fought against the undead soldiers which came at us. They were all lead by two people. One man wielding the darkness and a woman mage that through magic missiles at us by pointing her finger. Before we could achieve the upper hand, they retreated back to their cave; robbing us of the possibility of victory.

Adventure 6: Battling the Cave’s Couple

Our band of warriors set out into the cave a 5th time, returning to that vomit filled place where we had encountered the pit of bodies. Gagging our way inside, we guarded the three entrances. From above the powerful couple we encountered the day before attacked us. Always vital to have the higher ground, they showered us with both darkness and missiles, while a group of undead came at us.

Discontent among our company caused us many wounds on that day. Darr and Amalor, while the former is pledged to the other, still quarreled as if the cave were a playground. This squabble allowed our band to become bottlenecked in a small corridor, Darr refused to enter. This only caused his demise, once again at the doors of his Moradin’s realm.

Finding the way cut off, Hygelac and I ran across the arena to the iron gate, while Sparrow tried to break the line at the exit held by three magi. They attacked the ranger with both with missiles of energy and acid, he tried to hide underneath an overhang. Later I learned that he would begin negotiations with them to save our lives. We made it to the portcullis and entered, intent on defeating the couple who waited at the upper most level of the cave. We followed them past their position, over a dangerous sunken tunnel, and into a chamber. Setting up guards we waited for them as Amalor used his skills to find us a secret door. An antechamber appeared to be a simple bedroom but another wall revealed an entry.

Darr covered the small entrance, his axe at the ready to send anyone to their doom. However we made a flurry of noise and the enemy was keen to our presence. The Dwarf, so infuriated by this, pouted on one of the beds, a help to no one. I will never understand that race, luckily most of them stay within their labyrinths or mountains.

After Hygelac dispatched one of our foes, a female magi known to us as Tabitha, blinked into the room. Avoiding all attacks against her, she appeared in the room telling a certain Ida to get away. With great anger we told Amalor to release the lock and we entered a lit chamber opening to a flat room with many pillars. Toward the east wall, a magic rope dangled. We waited at the bottom of the rope as others scouted the area- finding nothing.   Later the rope disappeared, it must have been a diversion.
Adventure 7: The Lucky Mushroom Inn

The group prepared for the night to attempt to meet the group of people from the towns that they saved.  They were going to head in the same direction to try to catch up to them.

On the way, Sparrow noticed an Orc patrol, but the group choose not to engage them.  The group slept peacefully, but Amalor heard a noise and Hygelac spotted an Orc wandering around the campsite.  The group waited but nothing ever happened. 

The next few days were spent traveling a great distance across the plains of Shaar.  The group could barely see a group of orcs trailing them miles away.  Eventually, the group got to a road and headed east until they made it to a bridge.  Just after the bridge, the group spotted a fortified inn with a wall around it.  They were greeted nicely enough and were welcomed in after paying for a nights stay.  The group saw a large patch of mushrooms in the gardens surrounding the Inn.  The group ate dinner with the two owners of the Lucky Mushroom Inn.  The female owner took an interest in Roondar the gnome and they went off for the night.  He certainly held her attention with his own tales of greatness.

Sparrow went to talk to a tower guard and was informed that shadows lurked outside the Inn walls at night, but never breached the perimeter.

During the night, Amalor heard what he thought to be speaking in the hall.  He investigated and noticed a panther shaped figure in the shadows.  He ran down the hall to wake Sparrow.  Shaken, Sparrow and Amalor then woke Hygelac in the next room.  After Hygelac proceeded to attack the shadowy panther, the gnome heard this and left his room.  Roondar almost bumped into the spectral panther as he turned the hall corner.  He immediately retreated and cast his protective armor spell.

Sparrows arrows went right through the beast and Hygelac could do no better with his sword.  Nauthiz and Darr were in another hall and headed towards Amalor's cry for help.  Nauthiz charged the beast with no success.   Amalor summoned a creature to help, it couldn't hit the spectral panther.

Roondar pulled out his new found scroll he luckily kept in his robe and fired a powerful magic missile at the beast.  This turned the spectral panther's attention on him.  The beast barely hit Roondar.

In the meantime as Darr exited his room, he heard a roar from down the hall and turned to attack a second Spectral Panther.  Darr's blade also passed through it.  Darr was then in trouble as the beast munched down on him.

Roondar cast some sort of fire at the beast attacking him and he succeeded in killing it.  A large panther appeared where the shadow had been.  Roondar and the rest heard screams from Darr as he called out for assistance.  The group ran around the corner and Sparrow shot off another arrow even though Amalor warned him.  Sparrows arrow struck true, right into Darr's back.  Darr fell by friendly fire.  Two Inn guards approached the panther, but their weapons also passed through the incorporeal beast.

Finally Amalor got the idea to try to use fire against the beast and with a bit of torches and Roondar's last scroll of magic missile the beast became corporeal and died.

The Inn thanked the group and made them an offer to stay another night, but they refused.


Adventure 8: The Deliverer

From the Chronicles of the Craver of Pain, written for the 29th of Kaethorn

“Begone or face nothing but pain and doom!” I screamed at the cretin orcs who dared attack my band of brain men, warriors that I had learned to call comrades in these continuous days of war. I will extend my words and say to any novice reading these words- that the world outside of the monast is a world of pain for which many do not return. Let it be known that these beasts, these fowl bugbears and tragic orcs, unblessed by wisdom and the path quickly felt the sharp and tragic fury of our blows.

Upon their end we returned to the town of Elisberg, where the people touched us as if we held the keys to a righteous and wondrous enchantment. They called our Sparrow the great Deliverer, as if he carried treasure and influence and treasure to all about us. This town appeared simple, appeared mild mannered, yet held the same level of fear as the others we had encountered. Surely we would encounter another of the foul beasts (since meeting Darr son of Baddon, I had not been able to shake that expression- damned Dwarf at times I do miss him so.) that held our lives in their hands along with the mysterious couple of the now long forgotten desert.

The people of Elisberg pampered Sparrow, and offered us every convenience, including the warmth of the flesh and the sin of the soul- all of it at a price. It was as if the great calamity that would befall the town had actually been a ploy to separate our group from its booty.
Then again, what does a man on the path need of the shining distraction that is coin? Only the true path is worth the wonder of this life.

The first night in town, the group went about buying things, while I checked out these rumors of the great deliverer. They had told Sparrow that he had to use a magical bow, that it came from a garden, that it came only a special day that would be prophesized. Such are the misgivings of the peasant towns that a warrior must journey through to find the path. We armed ourselves, as my companions did find me gauntlets of Ogre Power to better deliver those guilty souls of the wretched.

While we struggled with the populace, I trying to teach a group of whores the wonders of an unarmed Strike ( I welcomed the temptation and hold no malice towards them, now they can better defend themselves against this savage world- one in particular would not stop using the naked crane technique in curious ways), as Sparrow was bathed in perfumed airs and flowers waters, never had a ranger smelled so good as when Sparrow left to combat the thing.

Before the battle I meditated with my gauntlets, focusing my energies upon the straps of leather and hard skin about my fists. I let the anger and strength of the ogres wash over me like a corrupting bath, it vitalized me- I emerged into the scene only able to see red.

The beast emerged with a false costume of sorts, a half-orc came to battle us, which we quickly defeated. Yet when Sparrow let fly his magic bow, a Minotaur appeared from the mist. For even the savage rely on deceit and cunning. The Minotaur lunged at Sparrow with a giant axe with a wide reach, it cleaved through us, damaging the ranger. Yet this humble monk, with the gauntlets that now sit in the Hall of Power, did dispatch the crushing blow as I showered him with fists and drove him back to the stench pit from which it came.

True the town celebrated the great Sparrow, and he did honorably deflect the praise; but know that our order, a Craver of Pain, did bare the weight of sending another soul into the fury of the abyss.

Adventure 9: Getting the Secret Scroll

A magician's apprentice falls into Darr's arms and hands him a scroll.  The man's last words are something like...  "Don't let them get it." 

The group is accused of killing the man, but later found not guilty.

The town of Shaarmid appeared large and luminous. We spent most of the time in this town either searching for the owner of a scroll handed to us by his dying assistant of a dead mage or dodging the accusations of the local authorities.
There appeared to be no refuge for us as we entered a bar and began to be denounced left and right. My fists thirsted for the blood of my enemies, and I felt Darr tremble with the need to cleave and hack through his enemies. Sparrow appeared interested in cooperating with the guardians of the town. I held no such favor at all, and only longed for the wondrous caverns where we spent hours swimming in the gore of my enemies. A monk of my order only lives to overcome challenges, and yet it seemed that in this entire city only a lone cat dared to oppose me.
Uncontrolled in my emotions, I struck out, killing the kind and defenseless creature. Such is my shame with the episode that I find myself unable to write of it in this most sacred of books. My actions should not taint the sanctity of these pages. For that reason I move on to the second episode of the strange scroll caper.

The group finds a drow rogue trying to steal the scroll one night.

The group looks around town for the drow thief.

Adventure 10: Losing the Secret Scroll

The group wandered around town looking for anyone who might know about this scroll they recently acquired.  They visit a stinky mage Rar to enquire about the scroll.

The group is harrased by another drow rogue.

Then the group follows up to visit the dead mage Sebet's home, the apprentice worked for him.

The group loses the scroll to a scruffy old dog.  Roondar didn't secure it well enough and the dog snatched it.

Finally, the group visits the Dark Moon tavern to find a group of drow.  The drow are quite peaceful to the adventurers who drink in complete darkness.

To figure out the mystery of the scroll, we, the adventurers went to a magic shop. To a suspicious old man that could read such things for us.
We spotted a man following us, nonetheless we proceeded to the old man's shop. A strange odor came from the man, a scent both repulsive and ripe- evaporating in the air before us. He told us the scroll be powerful and had to be destroyed yet he offered us no way of destroying it by his hand.

Leaving the old man's shop, confronted by an assassin with deadly poisons at his whim. I shrugged off his mighty elixir of death yet Roondar did not appear so lucky. His health took a turn for the worst but he made no move to admit to such pain at all. For this I did admire the small sorcerer, for strength and courage does also flow among his exaggerated tales of glory.

Overcoming the person following us, we went to interrogate him, yet we were foiled yet again by the meddlesome guards. If only people allowed us to take justice in our own hands perhaps this adventure would move onward. Wherever we went in the city it appeared that our fate did not rest on our shoulders, but upon the shoulders of others. We of the order only looking challenges, and that infernal town only provided for a source of mental patience not combat.

Moving to Sebic, the dead magician's house, the last owner of the scroll we found out that the magi had been associated with half orcs and drow alike.

The group returned to the original tavern and a dog came yipping up. While we were distracted the dog grabbed the scroll from Roondar's cloak and ran off with it much to our shame.

Sparrow helped us track the beast to a shady side of town.  We neared the bar called the Dark Moon. It was a place that humans, would not be welcome.
Thus Sparrow had to enter in near darkness. Darr befriended a drow bartender and while he moved to meet others we were attacked by a dire rat.  A drow woman named Tabitha approached our table and briefly spoke with Sparrow, of course Sparrow could not see her, but she sounded similar to the Tabitha in the caverns.  Unfortunately, Tabitha claimed to not know Sparrow and moved along.  The drow thanked us for killing the rat. 

After leaving the Dark Moon, we heard footfalls behind us.  We would not be getting a good nights sleep tonight.

Adventure 11: Searching for the Secret Scroll

For days my training had been pilfered, had not been challenged in that massive city of Sharrmid. Our journey on this day took a better turn, the fates called for my fists to once again punish those guilty of diverting me from the path. Our informant, the drow, gave us information that we had known already. This caused a great rage in most of us, especially me.

We heard about a secret passageway under the Dark Moon tavern where this brotherhood of drow supposedly dwelled. We returned in the cover of night, into the meeting room where we had seen them sitting at a meeting.
While moving the table where we knew there would be a passageway, a giant spider attacked us. I appeared not ready for the onslaught, and the creature quickly webbed Darr and Hygelac- the main muscle and steel of our team.

Sparrow and I let our meager crossbows fly, barely grazing the creatures hide of fur and dripping venom. Roondar, the self assured and titled warrior gnone tried to throw missiles of magic at the creature only to burn the webbing and those trapped by it.

Yet Hygelac's trusted arm hacked through the goo, raining steel upon the creature. Much to my shame, when I got my chance to attack all I was able to do is slip in the green vomit that made the creature's vitals. I felt as if fate decided to punish me for my arrogance when I had left the Monast. Thoughts of the Monast, destroyed and abandoned flooded my mind, but at last the creature did fall.

Believing he could do more than his abilities, Roondar did try to harness the power of the spider's venom, only to be poisoned further by the brutal elixir. His strength dwindled and his weight began to encumber heavily upon him. However, the gnome, as always, proved to be invaluable in the strangest of circumstances.

We descended into the worst muck and grime since the cave of piled bodies long days past. Green and disgusting fluid flooded about us. Without hesitation the weakened gnome, believing in his own delusions, took it upon himself to go crawling about the sewers. Moving through the corridors, we all hesitated, a strange silence overtook the scene, we stood aback, as if the unknown gods of the cosmos prepared our doom in advance. As if some unknown entity of the universe, looked about for the pawns of our demise.

The pawns came in the form of stary snake-like creatures called Grick from the sewers. They proved to be a difficult opponent as our weapons simply bounced off them as if rubber. Only through Roondar's magic were we able to overcome the fiends. Two more did face us, yet their defeat appeared to be easier. My gauntlets of magic did prove to be effective.

We continued to explore the sewers, being attacked by a creature I would later learn was called an Otyugh. I felt the shame of being distracted and lost when the thing attacked, seeking only to look the other way at any other apparitions which may be lurking around the other corner...

Adventure 12: A Eulogy for Hygelac
    Perhaps we were his only friends, and that is why he followed us into that stinking  retched hole in the earth's maw. A fellow half-orc, with a smile that could bring withered dreams to even the dead, but alas could he fight and defend his friends from the horrors we put before him.

    The moment Hygelac died, an innocent warrior who probably picked up a sword only to make friends- is the only moment I doubted my path of arms and blood. Every apprentice must face it, the doubt, the wonder if the journey is worth it. Those emotions did descend on me in those bowels, in that macabre maze of green slime and white stone. the task is that despite the odds we need to overcome that temptation of lost thoughts.

    When we turned the corner, after defeating the Otyugh, Hygelac's final steps on the path began. The damned dwarf, Darr, turned the corner, trying to satisfy his insane curiosity that comes when he descends the depths. Crossing a bridge, a raging storm of tentacles, some with swords, rose out of the murk. They attacked Darr and I, slashing at us and pushing us nearly off the bridge. It seemed for a moment that every single one of us entered into its range of attack.
Thus we barely made it out alive, its sting cut like tiny daggers in the darkness. After our half-orc friend struck the final blow, I thought a shame we did not need weapons for they lay strewn about.

    Nor could we heal in piece, as two Gricks attacked our party, half of us while asleep. I lay prone and thus took heavy damage from its tentacles. Everything was tentacles in this damned place. When the green monsters, descended back into the depths, we then turned a corner- only to find a hydra.

    At first we thought its size small, but then it pushed its full bulk from the waters and we found it to be an enormous adversary. With seven heads that attacked at once, it tore through us, destroying our chances.
Darr struck at it with his axe. But when Roondar let loose one of his fire missiles, perhaps a finger was turned upward, slamming the dwarf rather than the monster. The son of Badin lay there, presumably dead. I lunged to save what life bleed from him, and took an attack for him.

    Hygelac, that foolish but brave friend, did not count the hydra heads in fear as we did. The barbarian simply struck, simply chopped away at the attacker before him. For that blind faith in us and his arm, he paid the ultimate price- struck down by the bite of that underground cretin.

    His body lay in the waters after Sparrow picked off heads with his arrows. Yet again, it fell to Roondar, tales of heroes be damned, to strike the final blow. And I have heard the Bards sing of those days, and laugh, wondering did we even have a part in those battles?

    We buried Hygelac in that sewer tomb, after the gnome found a cache of weapons and supplies that even served myself. Amalor healed where he could, the cleric looking tired and haggard, for we had used him so many times. In the custom of his people, we burned him and sent his ashes upward to whatever calm heavens he deserved. With a melancholy that only a place like a sewer and a dead comrade could bring.

    Moving further we found a tower leading upward. Sparrow, with his skills, ascended into the cylinder, hearing drow voices from above.
Seeing as we were all haggard after the battle, we decided to camp out for the night. Our watch, especially our third, alert to any guests in the darkness.

    Waking to the scattering of a drow, the party faced the invader, quickly. Roondar vaulted a tackle bag at him, and thus we learned several drow curses. Killing him without gathering information, perhaps even slaying a man simply going home, we proceeded to the tower- to ascend and rid ourselves of this place.

    To greet us on the bridge leading to the tower, Darr with his races dark luck, sprung a stone creature from the very ground. The battle would have been much easier if only Darr had kept his eyes on the enemy rather than the design of his brand new dwarven axe. The price one pays for entering into a labyrinth with a miner-jeweler rather than a warrior. Once again my body felt the bite of his weapon, as I were his favored enemy.

    I, Bleeding, wounded, two other monsters sprang from the very walls of the sewer, as if spat out like phlegm. When their fists collided with us I missed Hygelac the most and heard the healing vial collide with my belt...

Adventure 13: The Sound a Gnome Makes...

We fought the earth elementals on the bridge of the sewer's tower, mighty Darr cleaving with his holy weapon, slamming through the living rock as if butter. The tiny warrior grunted and I struck my fists into the cold stone, reaching deep to pit and falter the enemy. Sparrow, ever the stealthy opponent, fought indirectly with the things. Jumping and dodging volleying his supply of arrows, avoiding the great fists of living rock.

In true fashion, Roondar left the close combat of the bridge and dove into the water, seeking refuge (as always) on a nearby rock.  Confident we all fought bravely and with the incentives of pure warriors. Yet it was then that our true doom lifted from the rock itself. The elementals turned to see their great leader, an elemental Lord rise from the living walls. The stone bubbled, warped, and finally rushed outward to create a being that covered our entire vision.

Striking with fists of pure power, its bulk nearly crushing our entire party. Many of us retreated, I made the neophyte's mistake of drinking a healing potion during combat which nearly killed me. I moved into the attacker's space, and like the fool that I was he did smite me.  Sparrow dove into the depths of the muck, his opponent following it underneath the very waves. The ranger swam to the other outcrop, running wisely over the bridge. Even our sacred protection of the cleric wavered, our retreat became paramount.

Struck hard and near death I moved away only to be followed by the elemental Lord. The thing moved into the wall and we mistakenly thought it gone. When I crossed the bridge to investigate it appeared before me, crushing me perfectly with almost child- like glee. In a last effort, I vaulted as my master Hagalaz showed me, landing comfortably on another stone island. It was then that the Lord went for the Gnome.

They tell me that not much is said about the death of the gnome.   Perhaps in death, somewhere from the great gnomish beyond he is still directing the masterful craft of his rumors. But I can tell you that none of us, not even the brave Darr son of Badden, would go head on with that thing- nor even think to do so. Yet somehow, when the floor before him warped and melded into that thing, Roondar did not retreat. He only threw up his puny magi shield as the thing swung at him with great arcs of power.

We tried to get to Roondar, and at the same time save ourselves. I do not admit to any act of bravery at that time, not at all. We all must be wise cowards at times, for I felt parts of my ribcage alter between bone and dust.  Finally in one colossal hammer downward, the elemental Lord squashed our sorcerer, along with his spells, potions, poisons, boasts, tales, and the countless other items that weighed him down.

Many have said that the gnome race, great people of annoying but handy bits of technology, is infinitely curious about the sound their bodies make if squashed. I have been exposed to even some rumors that some have even tried to recreate the process- rarely escaping death (no one seemed to have explained to them that to chronicle the sound of death, one must be alive). With the authority of my experience, I can say that tis a strange sound, appearing like a bug in the scent of that sewer, the sound of goo crushed into bone and muscle- culminating in a mouse's high pitched glee- perhaps the gnome thought himself close to that great answer. As a monk of the Wodan, I must wonder if the gnome would have made a sound if we were not there?

A five armed starfish of gore and guts remained where the gnome once stood. As if satisfied the Lord melded into the sewer floor, hunting us slowly. The party, following my lead (and Sparrow even vaulting) made a break for the trap door at the top of the tower in the sewer. I could feel my torso beginning to constrict, yet my legs pumped, moving me rapidly to the trap door.

From experience comes wisdom, and my wisdom now tells me that making noise in a drow strong hold is not a wise idea. The party rushed behind, and I smashed through the ceiling's door, perhaps alerting all to our presence therein. I vaulted the ring, searching the chamber within- encountering two armed drow. As I tried to feign ignorance a crossbow bolt struck me in the chest. Blackness ensued...

The most terrifying thing about being knocked unconscious during battle is the clarity of action around you, and the sheer helplessness of it. For amazingly I could see and hear everything around me. We believe it is due to our Li training, or clarity of mind. So joined are we with our companions that we can even see through their eyes. There I saw how the party, the amazing dwarf especially, easily dispatched the drow- Sparrow healing me quickly afterwards as Amalor stabilized as well. Darr wisely searched the bodies, finding three potions, and experimenting with them on the cleric- who was healed. What I would have done if I could, for they hid me in a garbage dump about the chamber until I finally regained consciousness.

Yet regaining consciousness to once again face the deadly charge of the Lord Earth Elemental, as it smashed through our meager defenses. We fought hard, Darr cleaving it mightily as my gauntlets oddly merged into the stone- rendering us both immobile. Sparrow sent a rain of arrows and drew a longsword he found on the drow bodies. Amalor healed where he could, until the thing finally crumbled back to hellishly damned dust.
For his defeat had cost us much...  Then again we did feel elevated and triumphant in the end...
Adventure 14: Flurry of Wounds

The moment Darr, with his dungeon lore, opened the secret door into the drow hive- they descended upon us like insects. Darkness prevailed, and those of the subterranean races (for it is said that dwarves and orcs rose from the deepest of earth's bowels) felt comforted in the cloaked surroundings. We entered a chamber roughly 100 feet deep and 60 across, littered with long tables and benches where perhaps the drow gathered to make plans for smiting the world of light. Two corridors ran at the sides of the room toward the North. Darr and I marched in, attacking a pair of dark warriors who parried with both of us. A shadowed assassin opposed Sparrow who looked to the collection of tables with great desire, as if a sea- going elf had been an ancestor.

We fought on, at the corner of my eye, my senses spotted two crossbow bolts cross the room towards me. I tried to dodge them but failed, my arm unable to rise in time. They slammed into my shoulder and I shot to the right, Darr cleaving through the drow with surprising ease. Despite the wound, I noticed the arrows moved slower, as if time slowed, My senses rose, quickening, and while my surroundings descended- my reactions increased. I felt my fists make better contact, my senses come alive. Darr shined beside me, an anvil mining his way through the lair. Behind us I could sense Amalor healing us, a gentle touch and whisper to continue the battle

The two archers clamored across the room. Using one of the dozen tables for cover, shooting at us from a new vantage point, I raced and jumped over the table- my body curling into the form of a ball. I smiled as I heard Darr's axe meet flesh then bone; a pleasant crush for the guilty. With a kick and a block I disarmed one drow, hearing Sparrow's scream from the other side of the room, I turned. A bolt flew into me from the dark tunnel to my right. Within I could just barely make out around ten bowmen in the hall, and the attacks of the others would not let me retreat. Then a cascade of lights danced before my eyes, and I felt my thoughts quiver. With a grip on the path, I shrugged the illusion away, making for the west wall.

Turning I saw Darr's blurring axe in the center of the room, cracking skulls, each accented with a dwarven roar chant. I finished off the other archer, and found myself again in the path of the hallway.  Three bolts sprang toward me, but unlike other times, my instincts did not simply tighten my muscles for the impact. This time, the arrowheads appeared to slow, my senses beyond the arrow's speed. My forearms shot out, like minions defending their master, and only one bolt struck me.

Sparrow had been attacked by an invisible foe, and Darr rushed towards him to again give nourishment to his weapon. The two crushed the opponent, and both made for the hallway at the other end of the chamber.  Wishing to outflank the drow, I moved toward the same hall, running faster than I had ever before. Yet once again my confidence proved erroneous, for a trap door sprung under me. Before it could swallow me in darkness I felt my body turn and twirl- tumbling to the other side. Toward another archer at the other end of the chamber.

The dwarf, ranger, and cleric stumbled at the other edge of the trap. I faced the drow and punched my fists into him. Yet before I could attack again, my skull exploded with pain. Stars orbited in the air. At first I thought it a moment of elevation, where the mind ascends to levels undreamed of. Yet the pain pierced my senses, and there I saw the morning star and a tall warrior attached to it. Beside him another, wielding a two handed sword.

Seeing my friends retreat to the other side of the chamber, I fought on, tripping and nearly disarming the drow, and fighting off the other warriors. In a fury, I screamed "You kill drow?" and they responded with stale enchanted voices "Mmmm... Drow our friends!". The morning star swung at me again.

At the corner of my eye I saw my companions retreat around the corner. Darr cleaved his way to the center of the room, clearing a path and an area to hold off the shadow dancers. He faced two formidable foes, with swords in hand, the dwarf strategically huddled them preparing to slice through them both.

Seeing my weakened situation as quite grim, I bolted toward them, evading the swings of my enemies. Vaulting once again over the treacherous precipice, I turned and ran toward the group. Sparrow catching attacks from a dark assassin and Darr beating back the two well armed warriors. Behind me I could hear the screams of someone who had been following me- the pit had claimed its first victim.

Darr appeared in danger, and thus I bolted up to one of the tables, kicking the dark armored drow, dropping him to the ground. A bellicose growl escaped the miner's lips, and for a moment I thought his axe would once again taste my flesh. Yet then it would be no accident. Behind us, Amalor retreated to help Sparrow, who had taken to the tables and kicked mugs into the face of the assassin. The Dwarf thrust his axe into the torso of the last warrior, and both of us prepared to charge the east corridor where once arrowed flew into me. I told Darr that the hall appeared well guarded, this only made the dwarf grimace and wish to storm it even more- and he bolted down the corridor

With one final focus on the path, I followed, hearing five crossbows fire at once....
Adventure 15:  The Final Moment, Again and Again

"The flurry of arrows came from right before us, Darr fought beside me as I continued to dodge the volleys. Suddenly, from behind us, came Sparrow's own attacks. The Ranger, using his abilities wisely, let his own missiles of death into the darkened hallway. The drow faced us, quickly dispatched by our swords and fists. With my gauntlets of ogre power I felled two drow archers, while Darr fought hard against a magic wielding dark elf who ducked behind a corner of the chamber.

I rushed in to melee with the woman, Sparrow covering our rear by snatching arrows from the fallen enemies. The woman spoke words of a hideous language, a shiver of fear overcame me but with my training I was able to shrug it off. Amalor, the once brave cleric, ran off in an utter panic, his voice echoing throughout the sewers. I threw a shower of blows at the woman but none penetrated her mighty ferocity with the sword.

A strange, well armored dwarf, came out of the portcullis behind us.
Cleaving through the drow's swordsmanship- he finally cut her down. A cry of glee trumpeted from the warrior's bowels that reminded me of our fallen companion Roondar. Something in the sadistic pleasure of the kill brought the sorcerer's memory forward. Thus I write these words with a saddened heart.

Yet this dwarf, insolent and suspicious, continued to astound all of us. Around us lay the fallen bodies of dozens of warriors, friend and foe, drow and human, It proved to be the ripe time to search the corpses and chambers alike. I could see it in Darr's eyes, truly the only thing he ever lived for besides battle- pillaging the fallen enemy. Among adventurers there has always been the unwritten code of searching only the enemy. For what honor is there of stripping your own comrades of vital objects they may need in the afterlife?

That is precisely what this dwarven sorcerer did, used the death of his own battalion (one he commanded we would later learn) to profit.
Before we could even talk to him, or ask him his reasons for being in these disgusting depths (odd that we had never encountered him before.
This proved that there was another entrance- a fact that only infuriated Sparrow). The dwarf, called oddly enough "Bill" began to pillage and reap from the slaughter.

With a gruff and a whistle through his teeth, Darr began to search every square inch of the drow headquarters. Sparrow followed the lead and combed the area. I searched various bookcases, a desk, and several chests; finding nine scrolls, a small sack (which produced a wolf familiar after I dropped a gold coin into it and went to retrieve it), three rings and two wands. Darr simply shoveled shining objects into a sack, to be inspected later. Sparrow, ever shrewd, carefully moved about the room looking for anything out of the ordinary.

We all backed away in shock when we saw Bill return with a large barrel. Filled with a liquid, we all watched it brim over the top with deadly acid. Somehow the dwarven soldier thought the item of some sort of use- when I saw him drag that barrel I truly missed the light mischief and tall egotistical tales of Roondar the gnome.

When Sparrow and I held up the sets of wands, Amalor returned from his hiatus. Instantly recognizing the wand's powers, we spent the time healing from the tremendous battle. In the interim I searched a suspicious bookcase that revealed a secret door into what was to be the main chamber of the structure.

As much as all of us had gained knowledge of subterranean architecture in our adventures, not one of us could figure how to open the secret door to our enemy (perhaps things would have gone quieter if we had found a normal way to open the door- after all is not the whole purpose of a secret door- stealth?). For reasons that not even my long years of service to the Wo-Tan can possibly answer, Bill thought his barrel of acid would serve as an excellent key. Perhaps the fear or enchant that the drow threw at us had a prolonged if not unnoticeable effect. For none of us objected!

We all backed up and Bill let the barrel lose, we had to dodge mounds of flying acid but the concoction took out the entire wall. I am unsure if we had the element of surprise or if the barrel ruined it. Yet nonetheless, the chamber stood open before us. The dwarves headed in and I followed, fully healed I looked forward to a good battle- but nothing prepared me for what we encountered.

Thinking the foolish swordsman before us to be weak and defenseless, we moved in to attack- seeing an unholy chamber with an altar in the center and a coffin, three drow maidens on pillars, and two evil drow wizards toward the back. At first we beat back the brute and dodged the maiden's magic missiles, but with the flick of a wrist and a word to the abyss, a deadly storm of Abyssal Maws surrounded us; appearing from thin air like decaying grapes of vivid doom. Before I could blink, they surrounded me, my companions hacking about us.

Wisely, Sparrow and Amalor held back, yet the magic missiles kept firing and the Maws kept appearing like bubbles from the hells. Seeing danger in being surrounded, I tumbled away toward one of the maidens, landing perfectly, my fist even stunned her. Yet she felt incorporeal and I moved to attack another. Just then one of the maws bit into me as if I were a side of mutton. Pain gripped me and I knew that I had to get to the leaders of the ceremony and stop the summoning. I went to tumble to render them, but the top of the table suddenly shot upward, slamming into my leg, and I landed on my back. The maws descended in for the kill..."


Thus ends the final entry of my master, our, Craver's journals.
Shortly after these last words, the great Nauthiz, our guiding justice seeker, of this, the New Monast order, retreated as he always had done on these cold evenings to the peace and tranquility of his meditations and time summonings. The Master, particularly elated, looked forward to these twilight encounters, hoping to expand his retinue of spiritual power. Of particular note, he wished to continue utilizing the Lotus of the Expanding Moment, where an entire monks life re- occurs before his eyes in a series of vision quests. Nauthiz, successful in the initial re-living of his life, encountered a force that has now thrown him into death's embrace.

When we finally broke the doors of his sacred chamber, smashing our fists of iron threw wood ten centuries old, we found him delirious and barely breathing. His eyes looked upward, his speech echoing throughout the Monast as he observed, in madness, the same moment over and over again.

"The maws descended in for the kill...The maws descended in for the kill...The maws descended in for the kill...The maws descended in for the kill..." our brightest One repeated and repeated.

Dagaz, our healer, revealed that his consciousness, his very life, could not go beyond the moment he had unassumingly touched the altar of evil in that drow chamber.

Something holds our master, and we stand here powerless against that immensity.

We can only hope our leader can overcome this peril.
Adventure 16:  In the Name of the Jeweled Miner
once again written by the acolyte Wunjo:

According to what I have heard, and our Craver has not been exact in those occasions because of the great loss of the dwarf, the warrior's continued to venture into the den of sorrows. Retreating, the heroes suffered under the might of the magic users at the back of the chamber.  They continued to summon great evils from the nether realms. Surrounded, Amalor did well by healing those about him. Our leader fought hard against the demons and mauls, slicing through them with his orcan fists.

The great Darr, who many have sung songs of gold and jewels, honoring his most precious skill in the mines, fought hard that last day. If not for the "allies" that came to aid us, perhaps they would have defeated the summoners much easier. Yet among that band, entering from the back part of the chamber, came a barbarian. Seeing this the sorceress enchanted the simple brained fellow and threw him against us. Not so bad if not for the fact that the barbarian had just been enlarged by a fellow sorcerer. From that moment Nauthiz's party entered a game of cat and mouse. The party tried to get at the casters yet they could not, for the barbarian swung at all that opposed him, be it former friend or former foe.

In the end the enchantress even caught our great craver, causing him to attack Guilliam with all his strength. Sparrow's arrows flew against them, and Amalor once again retreated in fear.

The entire affair became a collection of coincidences that compiled to nearly extinguish the small party. They entered a chamber of magic with no magic user, an enlarged enraged barbarian stood against them, the only wielder of magic ran away in fear, and their inability to take the scroll from the opposing leaders. Like ripples in water that soon become tidal waves, growing and growing until...
in the end Darr was gone...

Facing the enemy with nothing but courage and power, the man who had survived a great weight of abuse and combat; finally succumb to the deadly barbarian. At the last moment, thinking himself immune to the giant's power, Darr gave Nauthiz one last look- knowing that it would fail. The enraged barbarian, wielding a tree of steel, swung and utterly crushed the dwarf, leaving nothing but a broken body long missed by Nauthiz.

So much moved Nauthiz, saddened, that he buried the warrior with full honors in that accursed chamber. Carving his name in the stone, tattooing the fallen's skin with an icon of a mule and a battle axe, Nauthiz knew the great Darr, son of Badden, would live forever- spending all eternity launching himself against every foe.

Nauthiz rarely speaks of the dwarven warrior, but his presence comes close to his soul.

Rest at last Darr for you have earned it....
Well, after the heroes frisk the bodies and haul a huge stash of loot up the stairs leading to the surface building of the wizard Mekto's home. Mekto was also found dead recently. The group returns with Bill to the captain of the guard to fill him in on what actually happened. He is pleased and decides to give Bill a few days leave. Bill is pleased to find that his buddy, John Ciento Diecisiet, survived the drow onslaught and he is also give leave. The captain is sad to have lost many men and that the scroll was not recovered.

The group returns to the tavern/inn to find that all room and board debts are taken care of and there is a feast in their honor for helping rid the sector of Sharrmid of the Dark Hand. The group spends a few days in town waiting for the hoard of loot to get identified by the few remaining wizards in sector. During this time, the group finds Sharrmid very pleasant and friendly. The group can recover 75% of any item it tries to sell back to the merchants in town. Typically resale is at 50%. Also, during this rest period, the group takes care of wounds and any damage they may have received with some nice bed rest.
Adventure 17:  The Moving Maze

The group is asked to help figure out why young women have been disappearing from the road that leads north to Sharrmid.


Adventure 18:  Making Sense in the Moving Maze

The group finds multiple traps and tricks in a maze filled with platinum statues.  Three young women are found alive... how have they survived?

Adventure 19: Valuable Friends

Greediness and distraction from the path always brings its own just reward. As we moved through the maze, discovering treasure and Guilliam discovering platinum arms, we learned that all that is valuable should not always be taken. The walls shut us in and trapped us, we could not get out of the terrible maze. My strength and Amalor's healing served us well, but if not for the young maiden we encountered within the shifting corridors all would have been for not. The comely wench lead us through the hallways with relative ease. Oddly enough she did not seem nervous or even frightened. This aroused the suspicion of none of us, tragically enough.

Leading us to a large chamber, where the ground opened up to sparse walls and more statues of platinum. The more of the same solid metal figures we had encountered in the other areas of this maze. Approaching the entrance, something from afar watched us, I spotted it and reported it to my comrades. John and Guilliam, following their nature, rushed into combat. The sorcerer Guilliam letting missiles of mayhem fly from his fingertips.
It seemed that John the human warrior's best attack on the creature was a barrage of spiteful curses in the horrible language of abyssal.

The devil attacked us, wisely, from afar, pulling from the earth itself repulsive zombies of flesh. He radiated fear, yet we stood our ground, until John made an assault upon his perch as Sparrow fired a volley of arrows at the creature. We gained little ground in the encounter, and Amalor had to heal Guilliam and myself, pulling us from the very brink of the abyss after a fireball burned us crispy.

Battling the monster head to head proved quite a challenge, climbing to it, we soon realized that he could smite us with his tail- causing a vicious bleeding wound. When it seemed defeated, it simply flew away to heal in another alcove.

Below my other companions faced still another threat, one perhaps even more dangerous than any of the others overcome before. Our faithful companion, the comely wench, turned out not to be comely at all ( a debate that the brothers and I have had for some time, if an accursed medusa had the power to turn herself into any other creature- would she ever bother to change back?) rather she was a metallic medusa. Nor was it the simple creature of legend, who could turn poor unsuspecting adventurers into stone.
Oh no, she was an alchemist's greatest wish, she would turn everyone into platinum.

The moment we saw the two other women turn to platinum, I knew that the damned Guilliam had robbed innocent people of their arms. Revenge would be played in a cold way, for platinum is very cold.

As the demon flew away another serpentine medusa came at us. While the treacherous medusa assaulted the others with her sight, thus I averted my gaze as John fought it with his eyes closed (he did rather well considering he had not trained in that ability. Defeating her we turned our attention to the demon, yet already Guilliam had transformed into the very metal he had so greedily sought out.

Sparrow, John, and I remained after Amalor had been turned shortly after. The cleric perhaps had acted to much like a warrior, and paid too much for that honor. We defeated the devil but not before John also fell to the solid metal gaze of eternity.

Looking at Sparrow I knew that only strength of will and adherence to my path in this life had saved me.