Kythorn 1474
Chapter One: Karlsfjord
Entering civilization, even in as primitive a form as the village of Karlsfjord, was quite the treat for a party sick of life after several weeks on the road. With the druid and his animals staying outside of town (along with Chester, as the party reasoned the folks in the village might not take well to the sight of a talking, flying, flaming skull), the rest of the party traveled the stone covered streets to find the inn recommended by Lennox, The White Fang Inn. While traveling through the town, they saw most of the “town” was merely several dozen stone buildings and wooden huts behind the tall stone wall that surrounded the town. Most of the villagers were fishermen, whalers and seal hunters, and since the weather had once again turned warmed the town was probably quieter than normal due to every able bodied man about being out on his boat.
The town was situated about half a mile from the coast itself, in a natural inlet, and the sharp tang of sea water, fish stink, mud (the alleys off the main paved thoroughfares were wet and muddy) and blood (for there was a slaughterhouse right on the edge of town) filled their nostrils. They passed by a recently burned down area that several city guardsmen were poking through. Their curiosity getting the best of them, they began talking with a city militia man who proved quite talkative and gave them a lot of info about recent happenings in the town. It seemed a temple of Nythiir had been destroyed a fortnight earlier (Angles looked upset as the story unwinded), taking with it the trio of priests who tended the structure. There had been a frost giant attack, and apparently one of the thrown boulders had went through the ceiling, striking a lantern or torch, and setting the place aflame. No one had been able to help until the giants were repulsed, and unfortunately the temple burned to the ground in that time. The guardsman told the party that the town only had a small militia, plus a group of 15-20 mercenaries from the Flaming Fist Company based in Norvik, led by a female mage named Basia. The more the story unfolded, the more suspicious it sounded to the party, for almost all the largest buildings in town were made of stone (lumber being hard to find on the flat plain that Karlsfjord sat on), and the fact that the giants would even attack a small village like Karlsfjord to begin with seeing as it was 100 miles from the mountains, and probably had very little the giants would covet.
Deciding to follow up on the temple’s destruction later, the party entered the nearby White Fang Inn and sat themselves in the spacious common room. The inn was two stories, and during the mid day the place was somewhat empty and quiet. There was a sullen dwarf behind the bar, and another dwarf (the innkeeper) who gave the party a baleful eye as they stomped off their muddy boots and headed for a large table. A beautiful, not very intelligent human barmaid named Haren served them, and afforded them much amusement at her wide eyed innocence and unintentionally hilarious tales of life in the village. Soon the adventurers were drinking mugs of “White Fang Ale”, eating strips of salted herring, and trying to impress the barmaid with tales of their derring-do. When the halfling thief Ephros began showing the barmaid his scars, the quite incredulous Haren was in disbelief he had actually died and been raised from the dead! At that, the bard Korgaard leapt to his feet and stood in front of the large fireplace, giving a poetic recitation of the party’s defense of the dwarven abbey to Moradin from the gnoll army (perhaps fudging the amount of gnolls from 200 to 500 to more impress the lass and the dwarven bartender), and at the end holding up Ephros and stripping his shirt off to show the many scars on his body from where he had been beaten to death by the gnolls!
After the spoken word performance, the party could see the dwarven barkeep (and the other dwarf who apparently worked at the White Fang) looking at them very intently for a long while. Finally, the curiosity burning him from within, the dwarven bartender stomped across the room to stand in front of the party’s table.
“Ok, I can’t stand it!” he roared. “I want to know why you humans are wearing dwarf forged armbands (pointing to their golden armbands given them by Dulannin after the gnoll siege) traveling with a half orc and elf (pointing to Waqsted and Argois), not to mention a halfling, and you tell a tale that only a half-wit halfling child would believe!!! If I find out you have robbed some dwarves to get those armbands, I’ll…” After some sincere swearing from the adventurers that the events of the tale were true, as was the gift of the armbands, Arcus also managed to mollify the dwarf by speaking to him in his own tongue and telling him of being raised in the Citadel among the rock folk. Soon the dwarven barkeep (Harter Stonefoot by name) began to slowly warm up to the adventurers; although sneering at their rescuing of the abbey of Moradin (as he worshiped Duathal) he decided that even with a half orc present the party were probably dwarf-friends. He and his brother Darer both ran the White Fang Inn, and after he collected the party’s gold for a week stay (bunking up two to a room) he sent them over a “special” bottled ale that he swore only dwarves could drink and stay upright afterwards.
The private brew was indeed potent, Arcus recognized the brand (triple xxx across the front!) and discretely poured his through the boards of the floor rather than drink. The rest of the party downed their bottle, after which Vaerlon promptly passed out with his head on the table, and Angles became a rip roaring cursing drunk making several leering passes at the barmaid Haren.
The party soon had one visitor, a priest of Vistna who introduced himself as Phyloe. He said he had been sent by the senior priest of his temple, Hamlen, because “Hamlen has been dreaming of you all week”. Intrigued that a priest of the God of Knowledge would be seeking them out, the party told Phyloe that ironically they had been seeking out knowledge themselves. Phyloe told the party that Hamlen had an offer for them if they would visit their small temple on the morrow (both of them were the only two priests there) and talk to the senior priest. They agreed, and Phyloe left soon after.
Later, a fight was narrowly avoided with Haren’s six older brothers, brawny sealers who came in later to eat and drink, as they were about to pound the drunken priest but noticed he was clergy of Nythiir. “We heard about his temple burning down, we’ll give him a break” the oldest brother said, and soon the party headed off to their rooms. The drunken pair of Vaerlon and Angles were stripped of clothing and tossed into a single bed, which caused much amusement among the less-drunken members of the party as they headed off to their first night in a proper bed in many weeks.
Chapter Two: Business about town
The next day, the party went down to a hearty breakfast of porridge and pie, and much laughter at the expense of the heavily hung over pair of Vaerlon and Angles. The party had much to do, and decided they would split up. The Vistnan priest Hamlen had to be visited, as he had requested them and perhaps he had more knowledge about the axe Gore and the location of Jarl Turkhan’s tomb. Waqsted wished to visit a smithy or weaponsmith to have a new double-bladed axe forged, Angles wanted to investigate the burning down of the Nythiirian temple, and Arcus was intrigued that the leader of the village’s mercenaries was a female mage, possibly of great power (from the stories around town, her presence and casting spells such as fireball had been what had driven off the frost giants). Thus, the party split up and went about their business.
First, the bard Korgaard, Arcus, Argois and Ephros went to visit the Vistnan temple. “Temple” was bit of a misnomer, the single story stone building consisted of a small three room place of worship with a small entry/worship room, a shared bedroom, and a larger room crammed full of books, scrolls, paintings, and other writings and works of art. Hamlen, a older man, greeted them happily and with Phyloe at his side he sat down to tell them why he had asked for them.
Hamlen startled the party when he told them that during divinations the earlier week, he had seen the names “Gore”, “Enoki”, and “Jarl Turkhan” appear, and then had seen the faces of the very party members before him now. “Your presence here, and the appearance of these divinations, makes me think both are related. You perhaps have a tale to tell me, but I must first check on something”. After leaving the room, he soon re-entered, saying he was “satisfied” of the trustworthiness and good motives of the party (Arcus speculated he must have used spells or a device to scan them and verify their alignments or intentions). Hamlen asked the party to tell their tale; they told him of their experiences with the Cult of the White Wyrm, Enoki, and the search for the axe Gore and if he could help them on their next step, finding out where the lost tomb of Jarl Turkhan was from the dwarven tablets they had recovered from the Halls of Frost.
After listening to them, Hamlen then told them that after the dreams, he had begun research “but as you can see, my references are very limited in this distant outpost from civilization”. However, he was able to tell them the following tale, and read them a bit of frost giant poetry (doggerel, he said, as the frost giants were notoriously awful poets):
THE AXE OF JARL TURKHAN (TRANSLATION)
When falls the axe of Jarl Turkhan;
Blood will flow and limbs will break.
When falls the axe of Jarl Turkahn;
Many small ones die and their widows weep.
The axe named Gore will cool
In pools of small one’s blood.
The axe will drink itself full
Then bleed with tears of blood.
When falls the axe of Jarl Turkhan;
The screams of small one’s sing to mine ears.
When falls the axe of Jarl Turkhan;
Nations will fall and death will reign clear.
Now Jarl Turkhan rests on his throne, Gore by his side
He sleeps forever in the white cold,
Until the day the gods decide
The axe will fall again!
Hamlen then told the party the tale of Jarl Turkhan, the greatest Jarl in the history of frost giants in the Thunderspire mountains. Over 500 years ago, he was able to unite all the tribes under one leader due to his personal charisma and power, and his possession of the giant axe Gore. Hamlen said that from what he had found in his research, the axe Gore was probably of relic level power. Legends said it “dripped blood”, and anyone it struck would continue to bleed. It protected the bearer from all heat and fire, and also healed whoever held it. In the hands of a powerful Jarl, this axe would be an awful weapon, and the wielder might once again be able to unite all the disparate frost giant tribes of the north.
Hamlen told them that 500 years ago, the giants united under the banner of Jarl Turkhan had subjugated or destroyed all human settlements in the mountains, and were nearby finished doing the same to the dwarven fortresses. Who they had not destroyed, they had subjugated, and many of the barbarian tribes decided to submit and serve rather than be killed. A human barbarian named Magnur was able to call a band of heroes together, and unite several barbarian tribes, along with dwarven allies, to assault the Jarl’s fortress. The battle raged for days at the very gates of Jarl Turkhan’s fortress, until finally Magnur called Turkhan out for solo combat. The gambit was well played, because though his barbarian and dwarven army numbered thousands, the war against the frost giants was a war of attrition, and the humans and their dwarvish allies would eventually fall. Through a long battle raging all day, Jarl Turkhan and Magnur fought each other as the barbarians and dwarves watched on the ice fields, and the frost giants watched from behind the gates of their fortress. Finally, Magnur struck a death blow on Turkhan, and to the astonishment and horror of the giant, he great one fell dead at the barbarian’s feet. At that Magnur attempted to lift the giant’s axe, but it burned his hands so that had to immediately drop it. Magnur eventually died from his many wounds, bleeding that the shamans could not stop, but he had broken the power of the frost giants. The death of their leader demoralized the giant horde, and they soon split into competing groups and ceased to be a concentrated menace on Norvik. The barbarians were able to retreat with their dead leader, never again to be slaves of the frost giants.
While Magnur’s body was taken far away and buried with honor, Jarl Turkhan’s body along with his axe was laid to rest in the frost giant fortress, which was soon abandoned as the place was reputed to be cursed after the death of the Jarl. Apparently, said Hamlen as he concluded his tale, this was the information contained in the old dwarf tablets….the location of the tomb/fortress, and the axe Gore. Hamlen said he would look over the dwarven tablets and do what he could to translate the location enough that the party might find it before Enoki and the Cult. However, he did have a request in return for the party.
Since the destruction of the temple of Nythiir, the abilities of the two priests of Vistna had been overloaded. The only other two priesthoods with temples in Karlsfjord were Valkur (Northern God of Sailors) and a small temple to Rualt, which was only staffed in the winter months. Hamlen told them that Valkur’s priests often accompanied the sealers and whalers on their hunts, and were rarely in town to minister to the villagers. Thus, he and Phyloe had become taxed in their ability to care for the townsfolk…the priests of Vistna are mostly concerned with gathering knowledge, not ministering to the sick, and the sudden increase of villagers needing their aid had put a stop to their studies. Hamlen remembered an old legend about a temple to Vistna that once sat at the foot of the western mountains, but was abandoned many years ago because of constant attacks. Supposedly a “great magic item” had been interred with the high priest when he died, and it might still be there. This magic item, from what Hamlen gathered, was some sort of healing item and might be exactly what the priests needed. Unfortunately, the book with the location of the temple had been misplaced (“Or stolen” Phyloe added), and all Hamlen could do was draw a map to where it might be. If they consented to locate this temple and bring back the high priest’s magic items, Hamlen said he would attempt to locate Jarl Turkhan’s tomb for them
In addition, Hamlen said he would have Phyloe accompany them, as he could help with healing and perhaps any divinations they might have to make along the way. The party members agreed, and a bargain was struck. The party had a few more questions; they asked about the Cult of the White Wyrm, it’s origins and connection to the goddess of cold, Rualt. Hamlen said this ancient cult was built around worship of a white dragon of the oldest age and largest size which as legend had it dwelled beneath the mountains; most worshippers were members of the priesthood of Rualt, but not all Rualt worshippers also joined the cult. Hamlen said the power of the cult waxed and waned during the centuries, and Arcus speculated it might be tied to times when the dragon was more awake/alert, a fact Hamlen said sounded perfectly logical. The party then asked if he thought the destruction of the Nythiirian temple was sabotage, and he said he suspected as much. “Don’t immediately suspect the priestesses of Rualt” he told them, “The priesthood of Valkur does not see eye to eye with the more healing oriented priests of Nythiir, and there was animosity there also. And don’t rule out the possibility it may have been a third party that we don’t know.” As a show of good faith Hamlen gave each adventurer a vial of holy water and said he would supply Phyloe with some spare potions and scrolls of healing to help them on their quest.
As the party finished their morning with Hamlen, Waqsted wandered over to the local smithy, and talked with a strapping man named Sigmund about getting a new axe, and somehow fashioning his flaming ruby dagger to make it part of the new axe. Sigmund said he would see what he could do, and he took a 500gp down payment on trying to construct the unique item. Included in the deal was a new double bladed battle axe, which Waqsted was able to leave with while Sigmund worked on his new battle axe (which Sigmund said would take a couple of weeks to finish).
The party then met up (Angles said that he got no good information from the site of the destroyed temple to Nythiir) at the local outfitter, a cheerful man named Thorin, who seemed prepared to steal them blind with his outrageous prices on goods. Everything was four to eight times the price of similar goods in Norvik, and Thorin had no compunction charging that because he claimed it was expensive to import items here. A mention that he had outfitted many adventurers that had never returned spiked Ephros’ interest; he managed to cut a side deal with the outfitter that he would buy any armor, weapon or equipment for half value if brought back from the mountains intact. Despite the high prices, the party managed to purchase a wagon and small team of horses to haul their supplies (and Thorin threw in his “least loved” nephew Chitlin as the driver, as he could both drive the wagon and take care of the horses on the journey. Chitlin proved to be cowardly, whining, and completely stupid, but appeared hearty enough for life on the road with a group of adventurers.
Meanwhile the rest of the party headed to the mercenary warrior’s headquarters, to question/meet their leader, the magess Basia, and perhaps hire a couple of bodyguards for their wagon. They were allowed to enter by two guards, and were surprised to find a rather opulent, beautifully and expensively decorated chamber with incense, imported rugs, furniture and artwork. Basia then entered, and she appeared to be a quite beautiful and exotic looking woman with dark olive skin, black hair and black eyes, wearing much jewelry and gold. She introduced herself and was soon talking to the party about the events of the village. When the party mentioned they had traveled here from Norvik, she smiled and said “Do you know the Lord Llewyelln of Norvik? I believe you and I both serve the same master!” She also asked them if they knew the mage Delfen, and when Arcus told he had been apprenticed to the mage but decided not to take the position, Basia again smiled and said “We have something in common again, for I to was an apprentice to the Yellowknife in my younger days, and still communicate with my mentor.” Basia continued to talk cryptically about connections to the party, and they began to assume she had close ties to the upper levels of power in Norvik, so that the town’s eyes could look upon what was happening in the far east side of the continent.
Basia talked to the party of the giant’s attack, and how odd it was that the group of a dozen giants and their allies (yetis and winter wolves) was quickly routed after she had thrown a few spells. “Nothing could have kept them from doing greater damage, although eventually they would have been killed or fought off.” She agreed the destruction of the Nythiirian temple of suspicious, but that it did not concern her, she and her men were only here to defend the village from threats without, not any “inner conflicts” among the townspeople themselves. When asked she told the party that she had several mercenaries for hire, the party deciding that two fighter types would be perfect for staying with and guarding the wagon. She summoned three men…Herot, Danbury, and Mithrim, and the party questioned (and surreptitiously, cast ESP on them to read their thoughts) the men to find out if they would be appropriate. The blond, good looking Danbury seemed to be hiding too much (his thoughts spoke of needing money for gambling debts) so they went with the sadistic Herot (his thoughts filled with glee at the prospect of butchering and torturing humanoids and other evil creatures) and the affable, nature loving Mithrim. Each would require 120 gp a week, with part of that fee kicked back to the Flaming Fist mercenary company (although the party did wonder how much would end up in the pocket of the beautiful Basia, and then be used to buy expensive items for her apartment!).
With the mercenaries sorted out, the party except for Arcus left to get the wagon, and get prepared for the morrow. Arcus stayed behind and fenced words a bit with Basia, roundabout asking her if she had any spells she wished to trade. Basia hinted at a possible liaison but seemed to be just toying with the young Arcus, and finally told him that if he returned from his expedition alive she would take under consideration his offer!
Chapter Three: Journey to the Temple
After another night at the inn (minus the deadly dwarven ale), the party loaded up the wagon with supplies (crates of arrows from the outfitter, extra gear, barrels of water, salted herring, salted pork, and cheese), met Phyloe, Chitlin, Herot and Mithrim at the gate, and headed back west towards the edge of the mountain range. Picking up the druid and Chester outside the city and briefing them on what had transpired (and also introducing the hired help to the idea that an undead skull was actually a friend and that the giant snow cat wouldn’t eat them), the expedition was on. The journey was roughly 100 miles and would take a week over the flat tundra, but the weather was to be stormy all week (per the druid’s divinations) so 20 miles a day might be optimistic. The time was whiled away making sport of the annoyingly wimpy drover Chitlin, and everyone got in on the fun until Chester got mad and decided to take Chitlin under his wing (an idea Chitlin was completely not in favor of!). The first night on the road, they had an encounter with a group of five supposed pilgrims that walked into the camp asking for shelter. Immediately suspicious, the five tried to play musical instruments but were attacked, after which they shifted form to human looking wolves (the druid correctly named them as wolfweres, wolf abominations that would take human form!). They were quickly dealt with causing little damage, although Waqsted was bitten and left worrying if he had contracted some sort of disease from they lycanthropes. Several bits of treasure were found on the wolfweres including a few scrolls (including a very useful Scroll Vs Dragon Breath).
Another day passed uneventfully, but on the dawn of the next day, the party noticed far in the sky a dozen flying figures that seemed to be pacing and following the party. Using a telescope, the bard identified the shapes as gargoyles! The party remained alert as the day wore on, and the flying evil creatures began to get closer and closer, swooping to within 200 yds or so. Finally, one of the creatures dropped a rock that struck Chitlin directly on the head, which caused Chester to fly and attack the flock with fury. Bad move, as soon after pieces of Chester’s crushed skull rained down on the party, and then the flying creatures began an attack! Several swooped to attack the wagon and they ripped away it’s covering, trying to get to it’s contents. Angles and the mercenaries defended the wagon with the help of the druid and his animals, and the rest of the party battled the others as they flew down and tried to snatch them up (to perhaps drop them from a large height). Arcus managed to strike one with a lightning bolt, as did Korgaard with a barrage of magic missiles, and both injured creatures left combat….letting the party know that these gargoyles would not fight to the death, so merely injuring them greatly would hopefully drive them off.
At the wagon, the mercenaries had a good showing. Mithrim showed himself to be quite a master of his halberd (which was magical and able to injure the creatures), and Herot (using a borrowed magical longsword from Argois) also did well, despite the both of them suffering many injuries. The snow cat managed to bring one of the flying creatures down with a leap off the top of the wagon, and a bloody battle followed as both rolled along the ground, ending with the snow cat ripping the gargoyle’s neck wide open. Argois and Angles fought side by side, with the druid assisting, and soon 8 of the beasts lay dead (crumbling to dust afterwards). The other two gargoyles matched up with Vaerlon and Waqsted. As Waqsted heavily injured the gargoyle with his magical mace, the gargoyle attempted to fly away but an alert Ephros jumped and grabbed his foot, then stabbed the flying menace to death and calmly floated to the ground with his ring of feather falling! The final gargoyle was dispatched by the ranger Vaerlon, and the two injured beasts flew away. A sack filled with bloody gold and silver (and a few body parts) was discovered, but the purpose of the gargoyles (rather it be random or a planned attack) had not be ascertained. After curing and allowing Chester to regenerate (and telling the mercenaries they had acquitted themselves well), the party headed on.
A couple of days later, the party’s scouts (Ephros, Argois, Galgadayle and his animals) found some odd tracks that led off into the wilderness. Not alerting the wagon, they headed off on their own as soon as the druid mentioned “Owlbears!”. The druid wanted to destroy this unnatural abominations, while Argois and Ephros just wanted to have a good fight!
The owlbears were tracked to a cave by a stream; the party saw several very large owlbears with white fur (arctic varieties) come in and out of the cave. A quick plan was hatched; Ephros climbed the rocks above the cave entrance; the druid summoned insects (bees and ants) and turned them into giant bees and giant ants, and sent them into the cave to flush out the owlbears. Then, Spike Stone was cast on the area outside the cave entrance. The druid and ranger sat back to watch what developed, while Ephros readied himself…
The giant-sized insects attacked and the party could hear battle within the cave, as the owlbears hooted and squawked. As a couple of owlbears made their way out of the cave, Ephros leapt upon one and made a deadly and direct hit, nearly severing it’s head! As it slumped forward dead, Ephros managed to stay atop of it and avoid falling on the sharp spikes that had now sprung up around the cave entrance. One owlbear rushed the druid and ranger, who fired sling bullets and arrows respectively, and it was brought down before it reached them. Meanwhile, Ephros was dealing with a seeming stream of owlbears that kept emerging from the cavern, jumping from owlbear corpse to owlbear corpse to attack and keep off the ground! Unfortunately, finally an owlbear got a hold of the thief and hugged him, but the wily halfling managed to slide out and landed on the ground. Feeling spikes stabbing his hairy feet, Ephros managed to backstab a surprised owlbear, and along with expertly placed missile weapons from Galgadayle and Argois, eventually a half dozen of the beasts lay dead around the cave entrance! Several corpses were stripped of their fur, and the triumphant trio returned to the surprised party (who never even knew they were off on their own) with the skins and a small amount of treasure found in the cave.
Chapter Four: Ogre Cave
Finally, the party reached the foothills of the mountains, but the weather had turned bad. Heavy rains and winds pelted the party, and it was hard to see ahead through the mess. The patched up wagon had little protection vs. the storm, and soon everyone in the party was soaked and looking for shelter. Ahead, the scouts located a cave about 100 feet up a mountain at the top of a switchback trail, and saw light and smoke coming from the entrance. The party decided to send several of them to check out who or what was in the cave and if they could avail of the shelter. Argois, Ephros, Korgaard, Galgadayle, Vaerlon and Waqsted went up the mountain, while Arcus, Angles, and the hired help stayed below with the wagon.
As they climbed the muddy and dangerous slope (several times someone slipped and hurt themselves), they finally reached the entrance. Invisibly, Korgaard and Ephros snuck inside the entrance, and soon saw two guards…ogres! Instantly they decided there would be no parley, only combat. Seeing his chosen enemy, Argois rushed to attack as Ephros also backstabbed the creatures. Quickly killing them, the party rushed up the cave entrance only to see a small group of the creatures rushing to battle. Korgaard threw a fireball as far back down the passage as possible, a huge boom and gout of fire went off, and fully half the ogres dropped dead. The rest attacked, some wounded by the flames, and the battle was joined!
Down at the wagon, the party saw the explosion, and wondered what was going on. Suddenly they saw three large figures about 100 yds away approaching…more ogres! And one was fully almost twice as tall as the other three, apparently some sort of chieftain! Missile weapons were fired, and Arcus threw a fireball at the group, then hit the leader with a lightning bolt…after which Galgadayle, watching atop the cliff, also hit him with a called bolt from the sky! Still alive, the giant ogre threw a huge spear as big as a tree that slammed into Angles and knocked him back out of the wagon. The mercenaries acquitted themselves well in the battle that followed, and even Phyloe helped out. After a hard fought scrum in the mud and rain the adventurers were triumphant.
Back in the cavern, the ogres turned out to be quite a large group, and very tough foes. Two leader types attacked Ephros and Korgaard, who cast mirror image and other spells to help the two. Ephros nearly decapitated one with a leaping backstab, but the creature turned and hammered the halfling into the cave wall, knocking him unconscious in a puddle of blood. Korgaard had a desperate battle against the two, but luck was with him as first one, then the other ogre lost arms as his sword of sharpness struck home! Down another tunnel, Argois, Vaerlon and Waqsted rushed into a large cavern holding another half dozen ogres, and a desperate battle followed….made more desperate by the retreat of Vaerlon, who ran out of the cave in fear! Left alone, Argois and Waqsted managed to hold off the creatures until fortified by the druid and his animals. After a tough battle, the characters were triumphant, surrounded by almost 20 dead ogres! Vaerlon sheepishly entered after the battle was finished, and admitted to his friends that he had known for a long time he (for some reason) was deathly frightened of ogres!!! It was hard to reconcile that with the ranger that attacked giants without fear, but perhaps some old memory was behind his irrational fear. The party of ogres appeared to be a wandering band as there were no females or young, nor any permanent markers that showed they had been in the cave very long. After clearing the cavern of the dead monsters, the wagon was carefully led up the switchback, and the entire party was able to dry out and rest in relative comfort as the storm raged outside.
Chapter One: Karlsfjord
Entering civilization, even in as primitive a form as the village of Karlsfjord, was quite the treat for a party sick of life after several weeks on the road. With the druid and his animals staying outside of town (along with Chester, as the party reasoned the folks in the village might not take well to the sight of a talking, flying, flaming skull), the rest of the party traveled the stone covered streets to find the inn recommended by Lennox, The White Fang Inn. While traveling through the town, they saw most of the “town” was merely several dozen stone buildings and wooden huts behind the tall stone wall that surrounded the town. Most of the villagers were fishermen, whalers and seal hunters, and since the weather had once again turned warmed the town was probably quieter than normal due to every able bodied man about being out on his boat.
The town was situated about half a mile from the coast itself, in a natural inlet, and the sharp tang of sea water, fish stink, mud (the alleys off the main paved thoroughfares were wet and muddy) and blood (for there was a slaughterhouse right on the edge of town) filled their nostrils. They passed by a recently burned down area that several city guardsmen were poking through. Their curiosity getting the best of them, they began talking with a city militia man who proved quite talkative and gave them a lot of info about recent happenings in the town. It seemed a temple of Nythiir had been destroyed a fortnight earlier (Angles looked upset as the story unwinded), taking with it the trio of priests who tended the structure. There had been a frost giant attack, and apparently one of the thrown boulders had went through the ceiling, striking a lantern or torch, and setting the place aflame. No one had been able to help until the giants were repulsed, and unfortunately the temple burned to the ground in that time. The guardsman told the party that the town only had a small militia, plus a group of 15-20 mercenaries from the Flaming Fist Company based in Norvik, led by a female mage named Basia. The more the story unfolded, the more suspicious it sounded to the party, for almost all the largest buildings in town were made of stone (lumber being hard to find on the flat plain that Karlsfjord sat on), and the fact that the giants would even attack a small village like Karlsfjord to begin with seeing as it was 100 miles from the mountains, and probably had very little the giants would covet.
Deciding to follow up on the temple’s destruction later, the party entered the nearby White Fang Inn and sat themselves in the spacious common room. The inn was two stories, and during the mid day the place was somewhat empty and quiet. There was a sullen dwarf behind the bar, and another dwarf (the innkeeper) who gave the party a baleful eye as they stomped off their muddy boots and headed for a large table. A beautiful, not very intelligent human barmaid named Haren served them, and afforded them much amusement at her wide eyed innocence and unintentionally hilarious tales of life in the village. Soon the adventurers were drinking mugs of “White Fang Ale”, eating strips of salted herring, and trying to impress the barmaid with tales of their derring-do. When the halfling thief Ephros began showing the barmaid his scars, the quite incredulous Haren was in disbelief he had actually died and been raised from the dead! At that, the bard Korgaard leapt to his feet and stood in front of the large fireplace, giving a poetic recitation of the party’s defense of the dwarven abbey to Moradin from the gnoll army (perhaps fudging the amount of gnolls from 200 to 500 to more impress the lass and the dwarven bartender), and at the end holding up Ephros and stripping his shirt off to show the many scars on his body from where he had been beaten to death by the gnolls!
After the spoken word performance, the party could see the dwarven barkeep (and the other dwarf who apparently worked at the White Fang) looking at them very intently for a long while. Finally, the curiosity burning him from within, the dwarven bartender stomped across the room to stand in front of the party’s table.
“Ok, I can’t stand it!” he roared. “I want to know why you humans are wearing dwarf forged armbands (pointing to their golden armbands given them by Dulannin after the gnoll siege) traveling with a half orc and elf (pointing to Waqsted and Argois), not to mention a halfling, and you tell a tale that only a half-wit halfling child would believe!!! If I find out you have robbed some dwarves to get those armbands, I’ll…” After some sincere swearing from the adventurers that the events of the tale were true, as was the gift of the armbands, Arcus also managed to mollify the dwarf by speaking to him in his own tongue and telling him of being raised in the Citadel among the rock folk. Soon the dwarven barkeep (Harter Stonefoot by name) began to slowly warm up to the adventurers; although sneering at their rescuing of the abbey of Moradin (as he worshiped Duathal) he decided that even with a half orc present the party were probably dwarf-friends. He and his brother Darer both ran the White Fang Inn, and after he collected the party’s gold for a week stay (bunking up two to a room) he sent them over a “special” bottled ale that he swore only dwarves could drink and stay upright afterwards.
The private brew was indeed potent, Arcus recognized the brand (triple xxx across the front!) and discretely poured his through the boards of the floor rather than drink. The rest of the party downed their bottle, after which Vaerlon promptly passed out with his head on the table, and Angles became a rip roaring cursing drunk making several leering passes at the barmaid Haren.
The party soon had one visitor, a priest of Vistna who introduced himself as Phyloe. He said he had been sent by the senior priest of his temple, Hamlen, because “Hamlen has been dreaming of you all week”. Intrigued that a priest of the God of Knowledge would be seeking them out, the party told Phyloe that ironically they had been seeking out knowledge themselves. Phyloe told the party that Hamlen had an offer for them if they would visit their small temple on the morrow (both of them were the only two priests there) and talk to the senior priest. They agreed, and Phyloe left soon after.
Later, a fight was narrowly avoided with Haren’s six older brothers, brawny sealers who came in later to eat and drink, as they were about to pound the drunken priest but noticed he was clergy of Nythiir. “We heard about his temple burning down, we’ll give him a break” the oldest brother said, and soon the party headed off to their rooms. The drunken pair of Vaerlon and Angles were stripped of clothing and tossed into a single bed, which caused much amusement among the less-drunken members of the party as they headed off to their first night in a proper bed in many weeks.
Chapter Two: Business about town
The next day, the party went down to a hearty breakfast of porridge and pie, and much laughter at the expense of the heavily hung over pair of Vaerlon and Angles. The party had much to do, and decided they would split up. The Vistnan priest Hamlen had to be visited, as he had requested them and perhaps he had more knowledge about the axe Gore and the location of Jarl Turkhan’s tomb. Waqsted wished to visit a smithy or weaponsmith to have a new double-bladed axe forged, Angles wanted to investigate the burning down of the Nythiirian temple, and Arcus was intrigued that the leader of the village’s mercenaries was a female mage, possibly of great power (from the stories around town, her presence and casting spells such as fireball had been what had driven off the frost giants). Thus, the party split up and went about their business.
First, the bard Korgaard, Arcus, Argois and Ephros went to visit the Vistnan temple. “Temple” was bit of a misnomer, the single story stone building consisted of a small three room place of worship with a small entry/worship room, a shared bedroom, and a larger room crammed full of books, scrolls, paintings, and other writings and works of art. Hamlen, a older man, greeted them happily and with Phyloe at his side he sat down to tell them why he had asked for them.
Hamlen startled the party when he told them that during divinations the earlier week, he had seen the names “Gore”, “Enoki”, and “Jarl Turkhan” appear, and then had seen the faces of the very party members before him now. “Your presence here, and the appearance of these divinations, makes me think both are related. You perhaps have a tale to tell me, but I must first check on something”. After leaving the room, he soon re-entered, saying he was “satisfied” of the trustworthiness and good motives of the party (Arcus speculated he must have used spells or a device to scan them and verify their alignments or intentions). Hamlen asked the party to tell their tale; they told him of their experiences with the Cult of the White Wyrm, Enoki, and the search for the axe Gore and if he could help them on their next step, finding out where the lost tomb of Jarl Turkhan was from the dwarven tablets they had recovered from the Halls of Frost.
After listening to them, Hamlen then told them that after the dreams, he had begun research “but as you can see, my references are very limited in this distant outpost from civilization”. However, he was able to tell them the following tale, and read them a bit of frost giant poetry (doggerel, he said, as the frost giants were notoriously awful poets):
THE AXE OF JARL TURKHAN (TRANSLATION)
When falls the axe of Jarl Turkhan;
Blood will flow and limbs will break.
When falls the axe of Jarl Turkahn;
Many small ones die and their widows weep.
The axe named Gore will cool
In pools of small one’s blood.
The axe will drink itself full
Then bleed with tears of blood.
When falls the axe of Jarl Turkhan;
The screams of small one’s sing to mine ears.
When falls the axe of Jarl Turkhan;
Nations will fall and death will reign clear.
Now Jarl Turkhan rests on his throne, Gore by his side
He sleeps forever in the white cold,
Until the day the gods decide
The axe will fall again!
Hamlen then told the party the tale of Jarl Turkhan, the greatest Jarl in the history of frost giants in the Thunderspire mountains. Over 500 years ago, he was able to unite all the tribes under one leader due to his personal charisma and power, and his possession of the giant axe Gore. Hamlen said that from what he had found in his research, the axe Gore was probably of relic level power. Legends said it “dripped blood”, and anyone it struck would continue to bleed. It protected the bearer from all heat and fire, and also healed whoever held it. In the hands of a powerful Jarl, this axe would be an awful weapon, and the wielder might once again be able to unite all the disparate frost giant tribes of the north.
Hamlen told them that 500 years ago, the giants united under the banner of Jarl Turkhan had subjugated or destroyed all human settlements in the mountains, and were nearby finished doing the same to the dwarven fortresses. Who they had not destroyed, they had subjugated, and many of the barbarian tribes decided to submit and serve rather than be killed. A human barbarian named Magnur was able to call a band of heroes together, and unite several barbarian tribes, along with dwarven allies, to assault the Jarl’s fortress. The battle raged for days at the very gates of Jarl Turkhan’s fortress, until finally Magnur called Turkhan out for solo combat. The gambit was well played, because though his barbarian and dwarven army numbered thousands, the war against the frost giants was a war of attrition, and the humans and their dwarvish allies would eventually fall. Through a long battle raging all day, Jarl Turkhan and Magnur fought each other as the barbarians and dwarves watched on the ice fields, and the frost giants watched from behind the gates of their fortress. Finally, Magnur struck a death blow on Turkhan, and to the astonishment and horror of the giant, he great one fell dead at the barbarian’s feet. At that Magnur attempted to lift the giant’s axe, but it burned his hands so that had to immediately drop it. Magnur eventually died from his many wounds, bleeding that the shamans could not stop, but he had broken the power of the frost giants. The death of their leader demoralized the giant horde, and they soon split into competing groups and ceased to be a concentrated menace on Norvik. The barbarians were able to retreat with their dead leader, never again to be slaves of the frost giants.
While Magnur’s body was taken far away and buried with honor, Jarl Turkhan’s body along with his axe was laid to rest in the frost giant fortress, which was soon abandoned as the place was reputed to be cursed after the death of the Jarl. Apparently, said Hamlen as he concluded his tale, this was the information contained in the old dwarf tablets….the location of the tomb/fortress, and the axe Gore. Hamlen said he would look over the dwarven tablets and do what he could to translate the location enough that the party might find it before Enoki and the Cult. However, he did have a request in return for the party.
Since the destruction of the temple of Nythiir, the abilities of the two priests of Vistna had been overloaded. The only other two priesthoods with temples in Karlsfjord were Valkur (Northern God of Sailors) and a small temple to Rualt, which was only staffed in the winter months. Hamlen told them that Valkur’s priests often accompanied the sealers and whalers on their hunts, and were rarely in town to minister to the villagers. Thus, he and Phyloe had become taxed in their ability to care for the townsfolk…the priests of Vistna are mostly concerned with gathering knowledge, not ministering to the sick, and the sudden increase of villagers needing their aid had put a stop to their studies. Hamlen remembered an old legend about a temple to Vistna that once sat at the foot of the western mountains, but was abandoned many years ago because of constant attacks. Supposedly a “great magic item” had been interred with the high priest when he died, and it might still be there. This magic item, from what Hamlen gathered, was some sort of healing item and might be exactly what the priests needed. Unfortunately, the book with the location of the temple had been misplaced (“Or stolen” Phyloe added), and all Hamlen could do was draw a map to where it might be. If they consented to locate this temple and bring back the high priest’s magic items, Hamlen said he would attempt to locate Jarl Turkhan’s tomb for them
In addition, Hamlen said he would have Phyloe accompany them, as he could help with healing and perhaps any divinations they might have to make along the way. The party members agreed, and a bargain was struck. The party had a few more questions; they asked about the Cult of the White Wyrm, it’s origins and connection to the goddess of cold, Rualt. Hamlen said this ancient cult was built around worship of a white dragon of the oldest age and largest size which as legend had it dwelled beneath the mountains; most worshippers were members of the priesthood of Rualt, but not all Rualt worshippers also joined the cult. Hamlen said the power of the cult waxed and waned during the centuries, and Arcus speculated it might be tied to times when the dragon was more awake/alert, a fact Hamlen said sounded perfectly logical. The party then asked if he thought the destruction of the Nythiirian temple was sabotage, and he said he suspected as much. “Don’t immediately suspect the priestesses of Rualt” he told them, “The priesthood of Valkur does not see eye to eye with the more healing oriented priests of Nythiir, and there was animosity there also. And don’t rule out the possibility it may have been a third party that we don’t know.” As a show of good faith Hamlen gave each adventurer a vial of holy water and said he would supply Phyloe with some spare potions and scrolls of healing to help them on their quest.
As the party finished their morning with Hamlen, Waqsted wandered over to the local smithy, and talked with a strapping man named Sigmund about getting a new axe, and somehow fashioning his flaming ruby dagger to make it part of the new axe. Sigmund said he would see what he could do, and he took a 500gp down payment on trying to construct the unique item. Included in the deal was a new double bladed battle axe, which Waqsted was able to leave with while Sigmund worked on his new battle axe (which Sigmund said would take a couple of weeks to finish).
The party then met up (Angles said that he got no good information from the site of the destroyed temple to Nythiir) at the local outfitter, a cheerful man named Thorin, who seemed prepared to steal them blind with his outrageous prices on goods. Everything was four to eight times the price of similar goods in Norvik, and Thorin had no compunction charging that because he claimed it was expensive to import items here. A mention that he had outfitted many adventurers that had never returned spiked Ephros’ interest; he managed to cut a side deal with the outfitter that he would buy any armor, weapon or equipment for half value if brought back from the mountains intact. Despite the high prices, the party managed to purchase a wagon and small team of horses to haul their supplies (and Thorin threw in his “least loved” nephew Chitlin as the driver, as he could both drive the wagon and take care of the horses on the journey. Chitlin proved to be cowardly, whining, and completely stupid, but appeared hearty enough for life on the road with a group of adventurers.
Meanwhile the rest of the party headed to the mercenary warrior’s headquarters, to question/meet their leader, the magess Basia, and perhaps hire a couple of bodyguards for their wagon. They were allowed to enter by two guards, and were surprised to find a rather opulent, beautifully and expensively decorated chamber with incense, imported rugs, furniture and artwork. Basia then entered, and she appeared to be a quite beautiful and exotic looking woman with dark olive skin, black hair and black eyes, wearing much jewelry and gold. She introduced herself and was soon talking to the party about the events of the village. When the party mentioned they had traveled here from Norvik, she smiled and said “Do you know the Lord Llewyelln of Norvik? I believe you and I both serve the same master!” She also asked them if they knew the mage Delfen, and when Arcus told he had been apprenticed to the mage but decided not to take the position, Basia again smiled and said “We have something in common again, for I to was an apprentice to the Yellowknife in my younger days, and still communicate with my mentor.” Basia continued to talk cryptically about connections to the party, and they began to assume she had close ties to the upper levels of power in Norvik, so that the town’s eyes could look upon what was happening in the far east side of the continent.
Basia talked to the party of the giant’s attack, and how odd it was that the group of a dozen giants and their allies (yetis and winter wolves) was quickly routed after she had thrown a few spells. “Nothing could have kept them from doing greater damage, although eventually they would have been killed or fought off.” She agreed the destruction of the Nythiirian temple of suspicious, but that it did not concern her, she and her men were only here to defend the village from threats without, not any “inner conflicts” among the townspeople themselves. When asked she told the party that she had several mercenaries for hire, the party deciding that two fighter types would be perfect for staying with and guarding the wagon. She summoned three men…Herot, Danbury, and Mithrim, and the party questioned (and surreptitiously, cast ESP on them to read their thoughts) the men to find out if they would be appropriate. The blond, good looking Danbury seemed to be hiding too much (his thoughts spoke of needing money for gambling debts) so they went with the sadistic Herot (his thoughts filled with glee at the prospect of butchering and torturing humanoids and other evil creatures) and the affable, nature loving Mithrim. Each would require 120 gp a week, with part of that fee kicked back to the Flaming Fist mercenary company (although the party did wonder how much would end up in the pocket of the beautiful Basia, and then be used to buy expensive items for her apartment!).
With the mercenaries sorted out, the party except for Arcus left to get the wagon, and get prepared for the morrow. Arcus stayed behind and fenced words a bit with Basia, roundabout asking her if she had any spells she wished to trade. Basia hinted at a possible liaison but seemed to be just toying with the young Arcus, and finally told him that if he returned from his expedition alive she would take under consideration his offer!
Chapter Three: Journey to the Temple
After another night at the inn (minus the deadly dwarven ale), the party loaded up the wagon with supplies (crates of arrows from the outfitter, extra gear, barrels of water, salted herring, salted pork, and cheese), met Phyloe, Chitlin, Herot and Mithrim at the gate, and headed back west towards the edge of the mountain range. Picking up the druid and Chester outside the city and briefing them on what had transpired (and also introducing the hired help to the idea that an undead skull was actually a friend and that the giant snow cat wouldn’t eat them), the expedition was on. The journey was roughly 100 miles and would take a week over the flat tundra, but the weather was to be stormy all week (per the druid’s divinations) so 20 miles a day might be optimistic. The time was whiled away making sport of the annoyingly wimpy drover Chitlin, and everyone got in on the fun until Chester got mad and decided to take Chitlin under his wing (an idea Chitlin was completely not in favor of!). The first night on the road, they had an encounter with a group of five supposed pilgrims that walked into the camp asking for shelter. Immediately suspicious, the five tried to play musical instruments but were attacked, after which they shifted form to human looking wolves (the druid correctly named them as wolfweres, wolf abominations that would take human form!). They were quickly dealt with causing little damage, although Waqsted was bitten and left worrying if he had contracted some sort of disease from they lycanthropes. Several bits of treasure were found on the wolfweres including a few scrolls (including a very useful Scroll Vs Dragon Breath).
Another day passed uneventfully, but on the dawn of the next day, the party noticed far in the sky a dozen flying figures that seemed to be pacing and following the party. Using a telescope, the bard identified the shapes as gargoyles! The party remained alert as the day wore on, and the flying evil creatures began to get closer and closer, swooping to within 200 yds or so. Finally, one of the creatures dropped a rock that struck Chitlin directly on the head, which caused Chester to fly and attack the flock with fury. Bad move, as soon after pieces of Chester’s crushed skull rained down on the party, and then the flying creatures began an attack! Several swooped to attack the wagon and they ripped away it’s covering, trying to get to it’s contents. Angles and the mercenaries defended the wagon with the help of the druid and his animals, and the rest of the party battled the others as they flew down and tried to snatch them up (to perhaps drop them from a large height). Arcus managed to strike one with a lightning bolt, as did Korgaard with a barrage of magic missiles, and both injured creatures left combat….letting the party know that these gargoyles would not fight to the death, so merely injuring them greatly would hopefully drive them off.
At the wagon, the mercenaries had a good showing. Mithrim showed himself to be quite a master of his halberd (which was magical and able to injure the creatures), and Herot (using a borrowed magical longsword from Argois) also did well, despite the both of them suffering many injuries. The snow cat managed to bring one of the flying creatures down with a leap off the top of the wagon, and a bloody battle followed as both rolled along the ground, ending with the snow cat ripping the gargoyle’s neck wide open. Argois and Angles fought side by side, with the druid assisting, and soon 8 of the beasts lay dead (crumbling to dust afterwards). The other two gargoyles matched up with Vaerlon and Waqsted. As Waqsted heavily injured the gargoyle with his magical mace, the gargoyle attempted to fly away but an alert Ephros jumped and grabbed his foot, then stabbed the flying menace to death and calmly floated to the ground with his ring of feather falling! The final gargoyle was dispatched by the ranger Vaerlon, and the two injured beasts flew away. A sack filled with bloody gold and silver (and a few body parts) was discovered, but the purpose of the gargoyles (rather it be random or a planned attack) had not be ascertained. After curing and allowing Chester to regenerate (and telling the mercenaries they had acquitted themselves well), the party headed on.
A couple of days later, the party’s scouts (Ephros, Argois, Galgadayle and his animals) found some odd tracks that led off into the wilderness. Not alerting the wagon, they headed off on their own as soon as the druid mentioned “Owlbears!”. The druid wanted to destroy this unnatural abominations, while Argois and Ephros just wanted to have a good fight!
The owlbears were tracked to a cave by a stream; the party saw several very large owlbears with white fur (arctic varieties) come in and out of the cave. A quick plan was hatched; Ephros climbed the rocks above the cave entrance; the druid summoned insects (bees and ants) and turned them into giant bees and giant ants, and sent them into the cave to flush out the owlbears. Then, Spike Stone was cast on the area outside the cave entrance. The druid and ranger sat back to watch what developed, while Ephros readied himself…
The giant-sized insects attacked and the party could hear battle within the cave, as the owlbears hooted and squawked. As a couple of owlbears made their way out of the cave, Ephros leapt upon one and made a deadly and direct hit, nearly severing it’s head! As it slumped forward dead, Ephros managed to stay atop of it and avoid falling on the sharp spikes that had now sprung up around the cave entrance. One owlbear rushed the druid and ranger, who fired sling bullets and arrows respectively, and it was brought down before it reached them. Meanwhile, Ephros was dealing with a seeming stream of owlbears that kept emerging from the cavern, jumping from owlbear corpse to owlbear corpse to attack and keep off the ground! Unfortunately, finally an owlbear got a hold of the thief and hugged him, but the wily halfling managed to slide out and landed on the ground. Feeling spikes stabbing his hairy feet, Ephros managed to backstab a surprised owlbear, and along with expertly placed missile weapons from Galgadayle and Argois, eventually a half dozen of the beasts lay dead around the cave entrance! Several corpses were stripped of their fur, and the triumphant trio returned to the surprised party (who never even knew they were off on their own) with the skins and a small amount of treasure found in the cave.
Chapter Four: Ogre Cave
Finally, the party reached the foothills of the mountains, but the weather had turned bad. Heavy rains and winds pelted the party, and it was hard to see ahead through the mess. The patched up wagon had little protection vs. the storm, and soon everyone in the party was soaked and looking for shelter. Ahead, the scouts located a cave about 100 feet up a mountain at the top of a switchback trail, and saw light and smoke coming from the entrance. The party decided to send several of them to check out who or what was in the cave and if they could avail of the shelter. Argois, Ephros, Korgaard, Galgadayle, Vaerlon and Waqsted went up the mountain, while Arcus, Angles, and the hired help stayed below with the wagon.
As they climbed the muddy and dangerous slope (several times someone slipped and hurt themselves), they finally reached the entrance. Invisibly, Korgaard and Ephros snuck inside the entrance, and soon saw two guards…ogres! Instantly they decided there would be no parley, only combat. Seeing his chosen enemy, Argois rushed to attack as Ephros also backstabbed the creatures. Quickly killing them, the party rushed up the cave entrance only to see a small group of the creatures rushing to battle. Korgaard threw a fireball as far back down the passage as possible, a huge boom and gout of fire went off, and fully half the ogres dropped dead. The rest attacked, some wounded by the flames, and the battle was joined!
Down at the wagon, the party saw the explosion, and wondered what was going on. Suddenly they saw three large figures about 100 yds away approaching…more ogres! And one was fully almost twice as tall as the other three, apparently some sort of chieftain! Missile weapons were fired, and Arcus threw a fireball at the group, then hit the leader with a lightning bolt…after which Galgadayle, watching atop the cliff, also hit him with a called bolt from the sky! Still alive, the giant ogre threw a huge spear as big as a tree that slammed into Angles and knocked him back out of the wagon. The mercenaries acquitted themselves well in the battle that followed, and even Phyloe helped out. After a hard fought scrum in the mud and rain the adventurers were triumphant.
Back in the cavern, the ogres turned out to be quite a large group, and very tough foes. Two leader types attacked Ephros and Korgaard, who cast mirror image and other spells to help the two. Ephros nearly decapitated one with a leaping backstab, but the creature turned and hammered the halfling into the cave wall, knocking him unconscious in a puddle of blood. Korgaard had a desperate battle against the two, but luck was with him as first one, then the other ogre lost arms as his sword of sharpness struck home! Down another tunnel, Argois, Vaerlon and Waqsted rushed into a large cavern holding another half dozen ogres, and a desperate battle followed….made more desperate by the retreat of Vaerlon, who ran out of the cave in fear! Left alone, Argois and Waqsted managed to hold off the creatures until fortified by the druid and his animals. After a tough battle, the characters were triumphant, surrounded by almost 20 dead ogres! Vaerlon sheepishly entered after the battle was finished, and admitted to his friends that he had known for a long time he (for some reason) was deathly frightened of ogres!!! It was hard to reconcile that with the ranger that attacked giants without fear, but perhaps some old memory was behind his irrational fear. The party of ogres appeared to be a wandering band as there were no females or young, nor any permanent markers that showed they had been in the cave very long. After clearing the cavern of the dead monsters, the wagon was carefully led up the switchback, and the entire party was able to dry out and rest in relative comfort as the storm raged outside.
