Session One: The month of Nightall (1473)
Chapter One: The Meeting
The small village of Westpoint, about 100 miles north of Norvik, was the meeting place for a diverse group of adventurers thrown together by fate. In the Inn of the Laughing Dragon, their fates would all come together one horrific day and lead them to greater things. For the young human mage Arcus Stoneward, it was a resting spot for him and his father, the mage Demetrius, on their way from the dwarfhold The Citadel to the city of Norvik where Arcus was to apprentice to the mage Delfin Yellowknife. For the human skald Korgaard Skolsun, it was a place to perform his songs and ballads after escaping the clutches of the dreaded Cult of the White Wyrm, who had taken over his village and converted all within to the worship of Cold. For the elven druid Galgadayle Icemmon and his owl, it was a place to find allies after an attack by a Dark Druid and his minions had destroyed his mentor and their cottage in the Dark Forest weeks before. For the elven ranger Argois, it was a place where he was to meet his half elven brother for the first time, who it turned out was the son of his ranger mentor. For the half-elven ranger Vaerlon Starfinder, it was a destination he and his father, Vortigern, had chosen to meet his elven brother and for important information about the death of their mother was to be relayed. For the halfling thief Ephros (or “Runt” as he was known in his family), it was a warm spot to spend time after escaping the authorities in another village and waiting for one of his brothers to perhaps find him so he could return to his home in the woods.
In the warm, smokey tavern, the talk was of many things: how the village elders had rejected the offer of the priesthood of Rualt, goddess of cold, to set up a temple in the town; how in days the first large blizzard of the year would hit, making it almost impossible to travel or do anything outdoors for weeks if not months; of how fast the miners returning to their homes from the mountains would be able to spend their end of the year bonuses on ale, food and women. As Korgaard performed a lusty drinking song to the crowd, the lost and bitter Ephros scoped out the area for prospects; he found one in a drunken miner whose purse was bulging with gold, and gratefully took it so as to provide for him until his brothers arrived to take him back home.
In the back of the tavern, the two half brothers were meeting for the first time. Sharing an elven mother, Argois and Vaerlon sized each other up as Vortigern (Vaerlon’s father and Argois mentor) explained the circumstances of their births, and of their long-lost mother, who they learned was dead. Their mother Elias had been a mage and had joined Vortigern and others in adventuring in the Thunderspire Mountains many years ago. Argois had been born many years before, his father an elven man named Darfen who resided in Norvik. Vaerlon was conceived and born during this time, but was left by Elias to be raised by Vortigern. Elias then afterward was killed, but the brothers had never learned their mother’s fate…
One table over, Arcus and his father discussed the son’s coming apprenticeship with Delfin Yellowknife, a mage of power who lived within Norvik. Demetrius indicated he would have several objects to give Arcus when they parted, to help him in his studies.
Suddenly, as he emerged from the toilet, Runt was greeted by one of his drunken brothers who hailed him with disconcerting loudness. Clearly drunk as a coot, Runt’s brother proceeded to loudly proclaim he’s been robbing people in the tavern all night, and even worse, he offered the disturbing statement “Until you’ve had an orc woman, you’ve never been to heaven”. Unfortunately, at that moment he was cut short by a supporting beam of the tavern striking him in the skull, killing him instantly. For at that moment, a white dragon being ridden by a frost giant had landed on the tavern, destroying it and burying everyone within underneath the rubble!
Chapter Two: Escape from Westpoint
There was stunned silence, then screams of pain and agony as the patrons still living in the Inn of the Laughing Dragon realized there were THREE white dragons, all being ridden by frost giants, sweeping through the town destroying everything in sight. The voice of an imperious female cut through the snow and blood: “You have refused the offer of the priestesses of Rualt to protect your town; you have not let us erect a temple to our goddess; therefore, the Cult of the White Worm will make an example of your foolishness and wipe Westpoint from the minds of men forever!” Two figures clad only in white cloaks stood at the edge of town, directing a group of barbarian warriors to kill, rape and destroy everything in sight.
As the dragon atop the Laughing Dragon took flight, the survivors started stirring in the rubble. Runt used the panic to gather his dead sibling’s purse, feeling he had no longer any use for the wealth within. Vortigern gathered his son and Argois, telling them to get the other survivors to safety, that he would delay the pursuit as long as possible. Seeing Arcus’ father and recognizing him as a mage, he told him that they would have to do their best together to battle the Cult of the White Wyrm, even though their deaths were certain, if it would allow their children to escape. Agreeing, Demetrius shoved a bag of scrolls into his son’s hands and told him to follow the others out of town. “One of the scrolls is a Fireball, son, use it if you have to!” The small group, joined by the skald, druid and Runt, begin heading for the forest and hopefully escape. Vortigern, knowing he was doomed, muttered under his breath “What a lousy way to die!”
Vortigern then drew his sword, leaped impossibly upward and forward using what must have been boots of striding and springing, and landed squarely on the back of a dragon riding giant. Two quick swings decapitated the giant, and Vortigern let his body tumble from the back of the white dragon. Acting deliberately, Vortigern jammed his bastard sword into the neck of the surprised dragon and began sawing into the flesh. The pain maddened dragon dropped from the sky, crashing into a building and out of sight, Vortigern hanging on desperately.
Meanwhile, Demetrius chanted words of power and a fireball flew through the air to engulf a dragon/giant combination. They also fell from the sky with flames licking off them. The giant rolled to his feet, burned but alive, and began advancing on the mage. The mage fired off a lightning bolt, which crashed into the giant and knocked him off his feet. Before Demetrius could cast another spell, however, he was hit by twin Cones of Cold from the priestess of Rualt and her magess companion, who was one of the Frost Witches (mages worshipping Rualt) who also served the Goddess of Cold. The pair then hammered the mage with an Ice Storm and Frost Strike, and before he could counter attack the burning, pain maddened giant struck Demetrius a deadly blow from behind, then began hammering the mage into the ground with his bare fists.
As the doomed heroes did what they could, the fledgling adventurers headed for the forest. In their way was a small group of barbarian warriors, who Korgaard could see were his former villagers and friends. As he tried to talk to them and reason with them, he could see the light of madness in their eyes…there would be no intelligent discourse, merely ferocious attacking and battle, from his former comrades. The druid quickly cast an Entangle, which held most of the screaming warriors, enough that the rangers and Runt could pepper them with arrows, quickly finishing them off. That obstacle eliminated, they quickly lost themselves in the snow covered pine trees, the sounds of death and destruction still ringing in their ears from the razed village…
Chapter Three: The Last Obstacle
The motley group quickly ran through the thick woods, heading in an eastern direction, away from the doomed village. They quickly introduced themselves, but before they had headed too far, a hurtling meteor-like missile hit the ground ahead of them, gouging up trees, tundra and rocks for several hundred yards before coming to a tumbling stop. The missile turned out to be a wounded and near death dragon and frost giant, obviously injured in battle. The frost giant had fallen off the dragon, which bled from many wounds to its neck, and who had a broken wing hanging battered from it’s shoulder. The giant did not look much better, obviously having been on the receiving end of fire spells and sword thrusts. He unsteadily began loping the 100 yds or so to the shocked and frightened group of characters, screaming their doom. They hit him with missile fire as he advanced, and Arcus noticed with dismay the white dragon slowly stirring and moving around….he was near death, but not yet dead. He frantically dug into this father’s sack and dug out the Fireball scroll. Steadying himself, he read the words of power and cast his first ever spell from a scroll. The fireball streaked to the dragon, engulfed him, and exploded him into pieces that rained across the forest. The giant screamed in rage, and the adventurers began a cat and mouse game of missile weapons, staying out of his deadly reach, as Vaerlon attacked him with his sword. Arcus hit the giant with a Burning Hands, and Runt ran at a giant sized ankle, nearly severing it with a well thrust blow. The giant fell to his knees and squinted at the advancing Vaerlon. “You look familiar” he croaked in human tongue, “I think I kill one of your family back in town”. With this, Vaerlon struck his head from his shoulders, causing a fountain of giantish blood to spill on the white snow.
Very quickly, as wounds were bound, the druid, mage and Runt began rummaging through the snow for the valuable dragon parts such as fangs, claws, and blood. The others searched the giant’s body and came away with a sack full of broken potion bottles (of which they managed to salvage a few), and some gold. They also found a symbol being worn around the giant’s neck… a circle of stone with the head of a white dragon within, which the bard identified as being of the Cult of the White Wyrm. At that point, a blood covered trio joined the party with white dragon teeth, claws and blood. Runt was carrying a fang as big as a dagger. At this point, it was decided to head east, as quickly as possible, in case more trouble came behind.
Ten miles later, the group found a small rock overhang to spend the night…a miserable night, with temperatures hovering at five degrees, and only a small fire to keep them warm, and a handful of berries and some cooked porcupine meat to warm their bellies. Whatever lay ahead couldn’t be worse….could it?
Chapter Four: The Monastary
The group started out early the next morning, hopeful of finding some sort of protection from the coming bad weather. The druid had read the signs and predicted heavy snowfall by the evening, and it would be death to remain out on the trail with no shelter at that point. They quickly found a small trail, with footprints the rangers identified as both human and orc. With no other hope to find a place to stay, they began carefully paralleling the trail in case orcs were sighted. A band of hungry wolves caused a brief commotion, but the pack leader was killed by the party, and his blood caused the other starving wolves to tear him limb from limb and ignore the travelers. After a few miles, orcish voices began to be heard ahead about half a mile.
The party set up an ambush, not knowing how many of the humanoids might be ahead. Luck was with them. They saw a party of about 30 orcs heading west, but most appeared injured, and some were even being carried in carts. The orcs were careless and not scouting ahead, making the odds look good, so the silent hand signals were given from party member to party member. Suddenly, the first group was hit with Entangle from Galgadayle, and he proceeded to then pick off the helpless orcs with his sling. The second group fell from Arcus’ sleep spell, and Runt and the mage disposed of the unconscious orcs with blows and cuts. The rangers and the bard attacked the rest, who fell quickly to the savage assault. Soon, all the orcs but one lay dead around the trail. Luckily the one wounded survivor could croak a bit of human tongue, and relayed the reason the orcs were traveling so hurriedly through the woods. They had attacked a religious monastery in the woods, losing many of their number before gaining entrance and slaughtering the priests. However, as they began looting, several white furred forms rose from the snow and began killing the humanoids, starting with the war chief! At that point a hasty retreat occurred. With no further useful information, the orc went to join his dead tribe by a swift slice of the druid’s knife “I hate orcs…they are an unnatural abomination in this world and in the forest” was all he said.
A bit futher up the trail, the monastery was found in a clearing, in the middle of a scene of devastation. Dead orcs, perhaps 30 in number, lay strewn across the courtyard, and even inside the open front door near a crude ramming device. Debating their next move, the nearby presence of shelter overtook their fears, and they entered the religious sanctuary (which, by the religious symbols inside, looked to be a temple to Nythiir, God of Healing). They were greeted by the grisly sight of five butchered and beheaded humans laying in a pile, and the signs of struggle and looting inside. At this point, however, the delayed blizzard began falling, and the party counted their blessings to finally be out of the cold…
Chapter Five: Angles
As the rest of the party secured the door and carefully began to search the small building, the halfling thief got busy. He helped himself to several gold holy objects on the altar, and finding bread, porridge and cider in the main room, climbed atop the table and began stuffing his face. As he filled his halfling belly with food, the rest of the party slowly made their way through the structure. They found it uninhabited, with slight damage, but much food and supplies….apparently, fully stocked for the cold winter months that were now here! Searching the priest quarters brought a few clues to what might have happened, but the mystery was solved as the adventurers looked inside the root cellar. There hid an acolyte of Nythiir, the last surviving member of the monestary. His name was Angles and he told of the attack by the orcs, of the defense by the underpriest, two other priests and two soldiers, and how he was told to hide in the cellar until the battle was over. Then, the sounds of the looting orcs was overcome by their screams of fear and pain as something else took advantage of them, chasing them away, and leaving Angles alone in the dark. He also told how the day earlier the high priest had left with a small party to try and assist the village of Westpoint, as a traveling ranger had said he witnessed flying dragons heading down from the Thunderspire mountains towards that location. His final fate was unknown, the party thought that perhaps they had just missed him in their flight from the same village, but perhaps something more sinister had befallen the priest upon reaching the destroyed Westpoint. After curing the wounded party members, so thankful was he for rescue, Angles began cooking a giant meal from the supplies for all the grateful party members.
By this time, research by the mage in the high priest’s room, as well as simple deduction, led the party to believe yetis had been the opponent that destroyed the orcish war chief and chased the others off. They prepared for a possible return of the furred creatures by locking the doors, readying heavy crossbows in murder holes in the entrance, and getting fire-type items ready. A Fire Breath potion, discovered in the high priest’s room, was taken by the bard in case it was needed. Meanwhile, the rangers began pulling the orcish bodies into a pile for immolation, hopefully before the yetis came back for more food.
But it was too late. Despite a ring of fiery torches, several yetis responded to the “food” all around by skulking near the entrance of the monastery. As they began feeding, one of their number attempted to gain entrance. The trigger-happy adventurers manning the crossbows began firing, and soon the yeti was down. This, however, attracted the others….the Fire breath potion accounted for two, but the last gained entrance and was confronted by the two armed and ready rangers. Argois was crushed by the yeti, almost losing his life, but his brother struck true with sword and flaming brand, bringing down the snowman. After stripping the yetis of pelts, teeth and claws, the bodies were burned, and finally, after the past two long, awful days, the party began to relax. Later that day the rangers backtracked to the yeti’s lair, and found a small amount of treasure and what appeared to be a magic knife. Once they returned, the doors were shut tight, a large hearty dinner was served, and the small group began to plan ahead for what might be many weeks snowed into the isolated place. Angles resolved that he would leave with the party when they did, for he would be unable to tend to the monastery himself, and could search for other priests of Nythiir to advise him. The skald and the halfling thief decided this would be a good time to begin lessons into learning how to read and write, as Korgaard decided he wanted to learn the art of spellcasting. Runt also returned the golden altar items to Angles, but whether from guilt, a fear of retribution, or as thanks for being cured by Angles, no one can say. The mage Arcus started working his way through the small library of books on herbalism, religion, philosophy, and monsters of the north in the high priest’s library. He found a long ago written account of a place called “Illefarn”, a forgotten dwarfhold in the Thunderspires, which he filed away for future reference. Of more immediate use was the high priest’s journal and assorted old writings referring to a place called “Rivior’s Keep”, a bandit hideout in the mountains a few miles north. That night after dinner, he presented his findings to the group, and had a suggestion:
“Apparently, the high priest of Nythiir found an old history book that mentioned Rivior’s Keep, the headquarters of a bandit who wandered the north almost 100 years ago” Arcus said. “Rivior, and another bandit named Falcon, were the scourge of the mountains on the edge of the Dark Forest about 80 years ago, striking caravans, merchant groups, and nearby villages for loot, slaves, and gold. The attacks began to occur with more and more frequency as their success grew. They killed, robbed, raped and looted with no opposition being able to stop them. Finally, Duke Conan of Norvik had enough, and led them into an ambush by planting information of a caravan from The Citadel to Norvik loaded with gems….it was actually loaded with dwarven and human fighters, mages and clerics looking to put an end to the bandit’s depredations. At this point, Falcon split off from his partner, fearing a trap, and went to ground in a fortress somewhere to the south. However, Rivior’s greed got the better of him, and he fell for the bait. His band of villains was nearly destroyed in the ambush, but Rivior and his consort escaped. Nothing was ever heard of him again, leading many to believe he must have died of his wounds. No one was left alive to tell of where the bandit’s stronghold was located, and it has been undiscovered these long decades. ” Arcus motioned to the book he held open. “I believe in this book is an accurate map to the stronghold, and the high priest was planning an expedition to find out the secrets of Rivior’s Keep. If we wish, we ourselves can follow the map and perhaps solve the mystery of Rivior’s disappearance!”
Runt, reflecting that his alignment was “Chaotic Gold”, thought a short trip through the snow to the long-abandoned Rivior’s Keep seemed a great idea to keep the party busy in the winter, and the rest of the group enthusiastically agreed…but it would be weeks yet before the opportunity arose.
Chapter One: The Meeting
The small village of Westpoint, about 100 miles north of Norvik, was the meeting place for a diverse group of adventurers thrown together by fate. In the Inn of the Laughing Dragon, their fates would all come together one horrific day and lead them to greater things. For the young human mage Arcus Stoneward, it was a resting spot for him and his father, the mage Demetrius, on their way from the dwarfhold The Citadel to the city of Norvik where Arcus was to apprentice to the mage Delfin Yellowknife. For the human skald Korgaard Skolsun, it was a place to perform his songs and ballads after escaping the clutches of the dreaded Cult of the White Wyrm, who had taken over his village and converted all within to the worship of Cold. For the elven druid Galgadayle Icemmon and his owl, it was a place to find allies after an attack by a Dark Druid and his minions had destroyed his mentor and their cottage in the Dark Forest weeks before. For the elven ranger Argois, it was a place where he was to meet his half elven brother for the first time, who it turned out was the son of his ranger mentor. For the half-elven ranger Vaerlon Starfinder, it was a destination he and his father, Vortigern, had chosen to meet his elven brother and for important information about the death of their mother was to be relayed. For the halfling thief Ephros (or “Runt” as he was known in his family), it was a warm spot to spend time after escaping the authorities in another village and waiting for one of his brothers to perhaps find him so he could return to his home in the woods.
In the warm, smokey tavern, the talk was of many things: how the village elders had rejected the offer of the priesthood of Rualt, goddess of cold, to set up a temple in the town; how in days the first large blizzard of the year would hit, making it almost impossible to travel or do anything outdoors for weeks if not months; of how fast the miners returning to their homes from the mountains would be able to spend their end of the year bonuses on ale, food and women. As Korgaard performed a lusty drinking song to the crowd, the lost and bitter Ephros scoped out the area for prospects; he found one in a drunken miner whose purse was bulging with gold, and gratefully took it so as to provide for him until his brothers arrived to take him back home.
In the back of the tavern, the two half brothers were meeting for the first time. Sharing an elven mother, Argois and Vaerlon sized each other up as Vortigern (Vaerlon’s father and Argois mentor) explained the circumstances of their births, and of their long-lost mother, who they learned was dead. Their mother Elias had been a mage and had joined Vortigern and others in adventuring in the Thunderspire Mountains many years ago. Argois had been born many years before, his father an elven man named Darfen who resided in Norvik. Vaerlon was conceived and born during this time, but was left by Elias to be raised by Vortigern. Elias then afterward was killed, but the brothers had never learned their mother’s fate…
One table over, Arcus and his father discussed the son’s coming apprenticeship with Delfin Yellowknife, a mage of power who lived within Norvik. Demetrius indicated he would have several objects to give Arcus when they parted, to help him in his studies.
Suddenly, as he emerged from the toilet, Runt was greeted by one of his drunken brothers who hailed him with disconcerting loudness. Clearly drunk as a coot, Runt’s brother proceeded to loudly proclaim he’s been robbing people in the tavern all night, and even worse, he offered the disturbing statement “Until you’ve had an orc woman, you’ve never been to heaven”. Unfortunately, at that moment he was cut short by a supporting beam of the tavern striking him in the skull, killing him instantly. For at that moment, a white dragon being ridden by a frost giant had landed on the tavern, destroying it and burying everyone within underneath the rubble!
Chapter Two: Escape from Westpoint
There was stunned silence, then screams of pain and agony as the patrons still living in the Inn of the Laughing Dragon realized there were THREE white dragons, all being ridden by frost giants, sweeping through the town destroying everything in sight. The voice of an imperious female cut through the snow and blood: “You have refused the offer of the priestesses of Rualt to protect your town; you have not let us erect a temple to our goddess; therefore, the Cult of the White Worm will make an example of your foolishness and wipe Westpoint from the minds of men forever!” Two figures clad only in white cloaks stood at the edge of town, directing a group of barbarian warriors to kill, rape and destroy everything in sight.
As the dragon atop the Laughing Dragon took flight, the survivors started stirring in the rubble. Runt used the panic to gather his dead sibling’s purse, feeling he had no longer any use for the wealth within. Vortigern gathered his son and Argois, telling them to get the other survivors to safety, that he would delay the pursuit as long as possible. Seeing Arcus’ father and recognizing him as a mage, he told him that they would have to do their best together to battle the Cult of the White Wyrm, even though their deaths were certain, if it would allow their children to escape. Agreeing, Demetrius shoved a bag of scrolls into his son’s hands and told him to follow the others out of town. “One of the scrolls is a Fireball, son, use it if you have to!” The small group, joined by the skald, druid and Runt, begin heading for the forest and hopefully escape. Vortigern, knowing he was doomed, muttered under his breath “What a lousy way to die!”
Vortigern then drew his sword, leaped impossibly upward and forward using what must have been boots of striding and springing, and landed squarely on the back of a dragon riding giant. Two quick swings decapitated the giant, and Vortigern let his body tumble from the back of the white dragon. Acting deliberately, Vortigern jammed his bastard sword into the neck of the surprised dragon and began sawing into the flesh. The pain maddened dragon dropped from the sky, crashing into a building and out of sight, Vortigern hanging on desperately.
Meanwhile, Demetrius chanted words of power and a fireball flew through the air to engulf a dragon/giant combination. They also fell from the sky with flames licking off them. The giant rolled to his feet, burned but alive, and began advancing on the mage. The mage fired off a lightning bolt, which crashed into the giant and knocked him off his feet. Before Demetrius could cast another spell, however, he was hit by twin Cones of Cold from the priestess of Rualt and her magess companion, who was one of the Frost Witches (mages worshipping Rualt) who also served the Goddess of Cold. The pair then hammered the mage with an Ice Storm and Frost Strike, and before he could counter attack the burning, pain maddened giant struck Demetrius a deadly blow from behind, then began hammering the mage into the ground with his bare fists.
As the doomed heroes did what they could, the fledgling adventurers headed for the forest. In their way was a small group of barbarian warriors, who Korgaard could see were his former villagers and friends. As he tried to talk to them and reason with them, he could see the light of madness in their eyes…there would be no intelligent discourse, merely ferocious attacking and battle, from his former comrades. The druid quickly cast an Entangle, which held most of the screaming warriors, enough that the rangers and Runt could pepper them with arrows, quickly finishing them off. That obstacle eliminated, they quickly lost themselves in the snow covered pine trees, the sounds of death and destruction still ringing in their ears from the razed village…
Chapter Three: The Last Obstacle
The motley group quickly ran through the thick woods, heading in an eastern direction, away from the doomed village. They quickly introduced themselves, but before they had headed too far, a hurtling meteor-like missile hit the ground ahead of them, gouging up trees, tundra and rocks for several hundred yards before coming to a tumbling stop. The missile turned out to be a wounded and near death dragon and frost giant, obviously injured in battle. The frost giant had fallen off the dragon, which bled from many wounds to its neck, and who had a broken wing hanging battered from it’s shoulder. The giant did not look much better, obviously having been on the receiving end of fire spells and sword thrusts. He unsteadily began loping the 100 yds or so to the shocked and frightened group of characters, screaming their doom. They hit him with missile fire as he advanced, and Arcus noticed with dismay the white dragon slowly stirring and moving around….he was near death, but not yet dead. He frantically dug into this father’s sack and dug out the Fireball scroll. Steadying himself, he read the words of power and cast his first ever spell from a scroll. The fireball streaked to the dragon, engulfed him, and exploded him into pieces that rained across the forest. The giant screamed in rage, and the adventurers began a cat and mouse game of missile weapons, staying out of his deadly reach, as Vaerlon attacked him with his sword. Arcus hit the giant with a Burning Hands, and Runt ran at a giant sized ankle, nearly severing it with a well thrust blow. The giant fell to his knees and squinted at the advancing Vaerlon. “You look familiar” he croaked in human tongue, “I think I kill one of your family back in town”. With this, Vaerlon struck his head from his shoulders, causing a fountain of giantish blood to spill on the white snow.
Very quickly, as wounds were bound, the druid, mage and Runt began rummaging through the snow for the valuable dragon parts such as fangs, claws, and blood. The others searched the giant’s body and came away with a sack full of broken potion bottles (of which they managed to salvage a few), and some gold. They also found a symbol being worn around the giant’s neck… a circle of stone with the head of a white dragon within, which the bard identified as being of the Cult of the White Wyrm. At that point, a blood covered trio joined the party with white dragon teeth, claws and blood. Runt was carrying a fang as big as a dagger. At this point, it was decided to head east, as quickly as possible, in case more trouble came behind.
Ten miles later, the group found a small rock overhang to spend the night…a miserable night, with temperatures hovering at five degrees, and only a small fire to keep them warm, and a handful of berries and some cooked porcupine meat to warm their bellies. Whatever lay ahead couldn’t be worse….could it?
Chapter Four: The Monastary
The group started out early the next morning, hopeful of finding some sort of protection from the coming bad weather. The druid had read the signs and predicted heavy snowfall by the evening, and it would be death to remain out on the trail with no shelter at that point. They quickly found a small trail, with footprints the rangers identified as both human and orc. With no other hope to find a place to stay, they began carefully paralleling the trail in case orcs were sighted. A band of hungry wolves caused a brief commotion, but the pack leader was killed by the party, and his blood caused the other starving wolves to tear him limb from limb and ignore the travelers. After a few miles, orcish voices began to be heard ahead about half a mile.
The party set up an ambush, not knowing how many of the humanoids might be ahead. Luck was with them. They saw a party of about 30 orcs heading west, but most appeared injured, and some were even being carried in carts. The orcs were careless and not scouting ahead, making the odds look good, so the silent hand signals were given from party member to party member. Suddenly, the first group was hit with Entangle from Galgadayle, and he proceeded to then pick off the helpless orcs with his sling. The second group fell from Arcus’ sleep spell, and Runt and the mage disposed of the unconscious orcs with blows and cuts. The rangers and the bard attacked the rest, who fell quickly to the savage assault. Soon, all the orcs but one lay dead around the trail. Luckily the one wounded survivor could croak a bit of human tongue, and relayed the reason the orcs were traveling so hurriedly through the woods. They had attacked a religious monastery in the woods, losing many of their number before gaining entrance and slaughtering the priests. However, as they began looting, several white furred forms rose from the snow and began killing the humanoids, starting with the war chief! At that point a hasty retreat occurred. With no further useful information, the orc went to join his dead tribe by a swift slice of the druid’s knife “I hate orcs…they are an unnatural abomination in this world and in the forest” was all he said.
A bit futher up the trail, the monastery was found in a clearing, in the middle of a scene of devastation. Dead orcs, perhaps 30 in number, lay strewn across the courtyard, and even inside the open front door near a crude ramming device. Debating their next move, the nearby presence of shelter overtook their fears, and they entered the religious sanctuary (which, by the religious symbols inside, looked to be a temple to Nythiir, God of Healing). They were greeted by the grisly sight of five butchered and beheaded humans laying in a pile, and the signs of struggle and looting inside. At this point, however, the delayed blizzard began falling, and the party counted their blessings to finally be out of the cold…
Chapter Five: Angles
As the rest of the party secured the door and carefully began to search the small building, the halfling thief got busy. He helped himself to several gold holy objects on the altar, and finding bread, porridge and cider in the main room, climbed atop the table and began stuffing his face. As he filled his halfling belly with food, the rest of the party slowly made their way through the structure. They found it uninhabited, with slight damage, but much food and supplies….apparently, fully stocked for the cold winter months that were now here! Searching the priest quarters brought a few clues to what might have happened, but the mystery was solved as the adventurers looked inside the root cellar. There hid an acolyte of Nythiir, the last surviving member of the monestary. His name was Angles and he told of the attack by the orcs, of the defense by the underpriest, two other priests and two soldiers, and how he was told to hide in the cellar until the battle was over. Then, the sounds of the looting orcs was overcome by their screams of fear and pain as something else took advantage of them, chasing them away, and leaving Angles alone in the dark. He also told how the day earlier the high priest had left with a small party to try and assist the village of Westpoint, as a traveling ranger had said he witnessed flying dragons heading down from the Thunderspire mountains towards that location. His final fate was unknown, the party thought that perhaps they had just missed him in their flight from the same village, but perhaps something more sinister had befallen the priest upon reaching the destroyed Westpoint. After curing the wounded party members, so thankful was he for rescue, Angles began cooking a giant meal from the supplies for all the grateful party members.
By this time, research by the mage in the high priest’s room, as well as simple deduction, led the party to believe yetis had been the opponent that destroyed the orcish war chief and chased the others off. They prepared for a possible return of the furred creatures by locking the doors, readying heavy crossbows in murder holes in the entrance, and getting fire-type items ready. A Fire Breath potion, discovered in the high priest’s room, was taken by the bard in case it was needed. Meanwhile, the rangers began pulling the orcish bodies into a pile for immolation, hopefully before the yetis came back for more food.
But it was too late. Despite a ring of fiery torches, several yetis responded to the “food” all around by skulking near the entrance of the monastery. As they began feeding, one of their number attempted to gain entrance. The trigger-happy adventurers manning the crossbows began firing, and soon the yeti was down. This, however, attracted the others….the Fire breath potion accounted for two, but the last gained entrance and was confronted by the two armed and ready rangers. Argois was crushed by the yeti, almost losing his life, but his brother struck true with sword and flaming brand, bringing down the snowman. After stripping the yetis of pelts, teeth and claws, the bodies were burned, and finally, after the past two long, awful days, the party began to relax. Later that day the rangers backtracked to the yeti’s lair, and found a small amount of treasure and what appeared to be a magic knife. Once they returned, the doors were shut tight, a large hearty dinner was served, and the small group began to plan ahead for what might be many weeks snowed into the isolated place. Angles resolved that he would leave with the party when they did, for he would be unable to tend to the monastery himself, and could search for other priests of Nythiir to advise him. The skald and the halfling thief decided this would be a good time to begin lessons into learning how to read and write, as Korgaard decided he wanted to learn the art of spellcasting. Runt also returned the golden altar items to Angles, but whether from guilt, a fear of retribution, or as thanks for being cured by Angles, no one can say. The mage Arcus started working his way through the small library of books on herbalism, religion, philosophy, and monsters of the north in the high priest’s library. He found a long ago written account of a place called “Illefarn”, a forgotten dwarfhold in the Thunderspires, which he filed away for future reference. Of more immediate use was the high priest’s journal and assorted old writings referring to a place called “Rivior’s Keep”, a bandit hideout in the mountains a few miles north. That night after dinner, he presented his findings to the group, and had a suggestion:
“Apparently, the high priest of Nythiir found an old history book that mentioned Rivior’s Keep, the headquarters of a bandit who wandered the north almost 100 years ago” Arcus said. “Rivior, and another bandit named Falcon, were the scourge of the mountains on the edge of the Dark Forest about 80 years ago, striking caravans, merchant groups, and nearby villages for loot, slaves, and gold. The attacks began to occur with more and more frequency as their success grew. They killed, robbed, raped and looted with no opposition being able to stop them. Finally, Duke Conan of Norvik had enough, and led them into an ambush by planting information of a caravan from The Citadel to Norvik loaded with gems….it was actually loaded with dwarven and human fighters, mages and clerics looking to put an end to the bandit’s depredations. At this point, Falcon split off from his partner, fearing a trap, and went to ground in a fortress somewhere to the south. However, Rivior’s greed got the better of him, and he fell for the bait. His band of villains was nearly destroyed in the ambush, but Rivior and his consort escaped. Nothing was ever heard of him again, leading many to believe he must have died of his wounds. No one was left alive to tell of where the bandit’s stronghold was located, and it has been undiscovered these long decades. ” Arcus motioned to the book he held open. “I believe in this book is an accurate map to the stronghold, and the high priest was planning an expedition to find out the secrets of Rivior’s Keep. If we wish, we ourselves can follow the map and perhaps solve the mystery of Rivior’s disappearance!”
Runt, reflecting that his alignment was “Chaotic Gold”, thought a short trip through the snow to the long-abandoned Rivior’s Keep seemed a great idea to keep the party busy in the winter, and the rest of the group enthusiastically agreed…but it would be weeks yet before the opportunity arose.
I always like very cinematic set-ups for the beginnings of campaigns, and something usually involving foes to tough for a lower level party to defeat, along with a chase. This had them all, and I think it worked out really well. The battle in the village, fleeing into the blizzard, and then the discovery of the monestary and the fight against the orcs and yetis got eveyr character involved, and also introduced the NPC cleric they would need if they wanted to continue on (the druid couldn't keep healing everyone himself).
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